The Red Room - August Strindberg (best summer reads TXT) 📗

attack on me in the Weekly?”

“Don’t take any notice of such piffle.”

“Take no notice of it? What the devil do you mean? Doesn’t everybody read it? Of course the whole town does! I should like to give him a horsewhipping! The impertinent rascal calls me affected and exaggerated.”

“Bribe him! Don’t make a fuss!”

“Bribe him? Haven’t I tried it? But these Liberal journalists are damned queer. If you are on friendly terms with them, they’ll give you a nice enough notice; but they won’t be bribed however poor they may be.”

“Oh! You don’t go about it in the right way! You shouldn’t do it openly, you could send them presents which they can turn into cash, or cash, if you like, but anonymously, and never refer to it.”

“As I do in your case! No, old chap, the trick doesn’t work in their case. I’ve tried it! It’s hell to reckon with people with opinions.”

“Who do you think was the victim in the devil’s clutches, to change the subject?”

“That’s nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, but I think it has! Gustav! Who was the gentleman with Mr. Falander?”

“His name’s Rehnhjelm! He wants to go on the stage.”

“What do you say? He wants to go on the stage? He!” shouted the actor-manager.

“Yes, that’s it!” replied Gustav.

“And, of course, act tragedy parts? And be Falander’s protégé? And not come to me? And take away my parts? And honour us by playing here? And I know nothing about the whole matter? I? I? I’m sorry for him! It’s a pity! Bad prospects for him. Of course, I shall patronize him! I’ll take him under my wing! The strength of my wings may be felt even when I don’t fly! They have a way of pinching now and then! He was a nice looking lad! A smart lad! Beautiful as Antinous! What a pity he didn’t come to me first, I should have given him Falander’s parts, every one of them! Oh! Oh! Oh! But it isn’t too late yet! Hah! Let the devil corrupt him first! He’s still a little too fresh! He really looked quite an innocent boy! Poor little chap! I’ll only say ‘God help him!’ ”

The sound of the last sentence was drowned in the noise made by the grog drinkers of the whole town who were now beginning to arrive.

XV The Theatrical Company “Phœnix”

On the following day Rehnhjelm awoke late in the morning in his hotel bed. Memories of the previous night arose like phantoms and crowded round him.

He saw again the pretty, closely shuttered room, richly decorated with flowers, in which the orgy had been held. He saw the actress, a lady of thirty-five who, thanks to a younger rival, had to play the parts of old women; he saw her entering the room, in a frenzy of rage and despair at the fresh humiliations heaped upon her, throwing herself full length on the sofa, drinking glass after glass of wine and, when the temperature of the room rose, opening her bodice, as a man opens his waistcoat after a too-plentiful dinner.

He saw again the old comedian who, after a very short career, had been degraded from playing lead to taking servant’s parts; he now entertained the tradespeople of the town with his songs, and, above all, with the stories of his short glory.

But, in the very heart of the clouds of smoke and his drunken visions Rehnhjelm saw the picture of a young girl of sixteen, who had arrived with tears in her eyes, and told the melancholy Falander that the great actor-manager had again been persecuting her with insulting proposals, vowing that in future, unless she would accede to them, she should play only the very smallest parts.

And he saw Falander, listening to everybody’s troubles and complaints, breathing on them until they vanished; he watched him, reducing insults, humiliations, kicks, accidents, want, misery, and grief to nothing; watched him teaching his friends and warning them never to exaggerate anything, least of all their troubles.

But again and again his thoughts reverted to the little girl of sixteen with the innocent face, with whom he had made friends, and who had kissed him when they parted, hungrily, passionately. To be quite candid, her kiss had taken him by surprise. But what was her name?

He rose, and stretching out his hand for the water-bottle, he seized a tiny handkerchief, spotted with wine. Ah! Here was her name, ineffaceable, written in marking ink⁠—Agnes! He kissed the handkerchief twice on the cleanest spot and put it into his box.

When he had carefully dressed himself, he went out to see the actor-manager, whom he confidently expected to find at the theatre between twelve and three.

To be on the safe side, he arrived at the office at twelve o’clock; he found no one there but a porter, who asked him what he wanted and put himself at his service.

Rehnhjelm did not think that he would need his help, and asked to see the actor-manager; he was told that the actor-manager was at the present moment at the factory, but would no doubt come to the office in the course of the afternoon.

Rehnhjelm supposed “factory” to be a slang expression for theatre, but the porter explained to him that the actor-manager was also a match manufacturer. His brother-in-law, the cashier, was a post office employee and never came to the theatre before two o’clock; his son, the secretary, had a post in the telegraph office, and his presence could never be safely relied upon. But the porter, who seemed to guess the object of Rehnhjelm’s visit, handed him, on his own responsibility and in the name of the theatre, a copy of the statutes; the young gentleman was at liberty to amuse himself with it until one of the managerial staff arrived.

Rehnhjelm possessed his soul in patience and sat down on the sofa to study the documents. It was half-past twelve when he had finished reading them. He talked to the porter