The Editor. I have friends in the party? Oh yes; and if we lose a fight these fine counsellors are the first to run away! They are always egging me on and egging me on; but only let public opinion once get tired of me, and they will throw me overboard without more ado! By that sort of treachery they manage to fill the sails of the party craft with a new breeze--and leave me to shift the best way I can!--they, for whom I have fought with all my might and main! I despise my opponents--they are either scoundrels and thieves, or they are blockheads and braggarts.

But my supporters are lick-spittles, fools, cravens. I despise the whole pack of them, from first to last! If any one would give me the a.s.surance that if, as a pledge that I would never use a pen again, I were to chop off my right hand I should thereby gain the prospect of a peaceful life a thousand miles away from here, I believe I would do it!--I despise the whole pack of them--oh, how I despise them!

Evje. But this is horrible! Do you find no comfort in religion? Or, at all events, you have your paper!

The Editor. My paper, yes--but what good do you suppose that is to me?

And do you think I give the impression of being a religious man?

Evje. Then what do you work for?

The Editor. Perhaps you think I work for your sake?--or for the sake of prosperity, or order, or whatever it is you cowards or self-seekers like to imagine it is that you personify? No, the whole human race is not worth the powder and shot that they are holding at each other's heads.

Evje. Then why do you come and almost threaten my life, if the whole thing seems so worthless to you?

The Editor. Do you seriously suppose that I would give in, so as to spare you or some other shopkeeper?--so that you should be able to say triumphantly, "You see he didn't dare! He didn't dare quarrel with Capital!"--or, "You see he has given in--he has turned tail!" No; what I should like to do would be to lay a mine underground, and blow myself and the whole lot of you sky high!

Evje. And I and all the happiness of my family life are to be sacrificed in order that you shall not have to give in on a side issue of no importance!--Oh, I am chilled to the bone!

The Editor. Ha, ha! It is good to hear you speaking like yourself again, because it reminds me that it is time to put an end to this solemn nonsense! (Looks at his watch.) A quarter past! You must be quick!

Evje. Are you really in earnest?

The Editor. I often play off jokes on you, it is true. But I don't know how you will like this one to-morrow morning.

Evje. Then let me tell you that I solemnly refuse! I will not break off the engagement! Put me in your paper, if you like; I am a free man.

The Editor. Bah! n.o.body is that. Then you refuse? Good-bye! (Walks away from EVJE.)

Evje (going after him). No, no--where are you going?

The Editor (stopping). Nowhere--or rather, I am going home.

Evje. But you won't really do what you said?

The Editor. Ha! ha! ha! (Moves away.)

Evje (following him). No, listen! Listen to me for a minute.

The Editor (turning back). Do you think I have time to stop at all the stations your vanity or your fright will invent on the way? (Moves away.)

Evje. You mad creature--listen to me! (The EDITOR stops.) Tell me exactly what you mean to do?

The Editor. Fiddlesticks! (Moves on.)

Evje (following him). Do you mean to put in the paper that I have broken off this match?

The Editor (stopping). Better than that--I shall spread the news in the town; then it will get about, and all the journalists will get a hold of it.

Evje. Give me a day or two to think it over!

The Editor. Oh, no--you are not going to catch me like that! It is election time, and the other side must be made to feel that all decent people have deserted them.

Evje. But it is a lie, you know!

The Editor. What is lying, and what is truth? But your resignation from the Stock Exchange Committee and your subsequent failure to be elected to any public position will be no lies, I can a.s.sure you! Public opinion is not to be trifled with, you know!

Evje. And this from you!

The Editor. Bah! Public opinion is a very faithless friend.

Evje. But who, after all, const.i.tute public opinion?

The Editor. Oh, no--you are not going to lead me into a trap again!

Besides--it would be very difficult to say exactly who does const.i.tute it.

Evje. This is really--! Then you won't put that in the paper?

The Editor. The news of a broken engagement travels quickest by foot-post--ha, ha, ha! (Coughs; then adds seriously:) But won't you, of your own accord, break off what are really absolutely inadmissible relations with a man who scandalises all your acquaintances?

Evje. Lay the blame on me, of course! I know his credentials are no longer first cla.s.s; but my daughter--ah, you would not be able to understand that. The circ.u.mstances are quite exceptional, and--. Look here, shall we go up and talk it over with my wife?

The Editor. Ha, ha!--you turned me out of the house this morning!

Evje. Oh, forget all about that!

The Editor (looking at his watch). Half past! Now, without any more evasions--will you, or will you not?

Evje (with a struggle). No! I repeat, no! (The EDITOR moves away.) Yes, yes!--It nearly kills me to do it!

The Editor. "The Capitalist, secure in his position, who needs pay no regard to," etc., etc.--that is the "common form," isn't it, you man of first-cla.s.s credentials? Ha, ha! Good-bye. I am going home to send the boy to the printers; he has waited long enough. (Moves away.)

Evje (following him). You are the cruellest, hardest, most reckless--

The Editor (who has been laughing, suddenly becomes serious). Hush! Do you see?

Evje (turning round). What? Where?

The Editor. Over there!

Evje. Those two?

The Editor. Yes--your daughter and Mr. Harald Rejn.

Evje. But he swore this morning that he would never set foot in my house again!

The Editor. But he will stay _outside_ your house, as you see! These gentlemen of the Opposition, when they give any a.s.surance, always do it with a mental reservation! You can't trust the beggars! Come round the corner. (They do so.)

Evje. An a.s.signation in the street in the fog! To think my daughter would let herself be induced to do such a thing!