ACT II
(SCENE.—A room in the BISHOP's house, some weeks later. A door at the back of the room leads to another large room. Another door in the right-hand wall; windows in the left. Well forward, by one of the windows, a large easy-chair. Farther back, a writing-desk and chair. On the right, near the door, a couch, and chairs ranged along the wall. Chairs also alongside the door at the back. The Bishop is sitting on the couch, talking to HAGBART.)
Bishop. My dear Hagbart, you keep on telling me that you have acted up to your convictions. Very well, do you want to forbid my acting up to mine?
Hagbart. You know that all I ask, uncle, is that you will see her and talk to her first.
Bishop. But if that is exactly what I don't wish to do? You have made things difficult for us, you know, by choosing a wife out of your own class—although at the same time we have grown fonder of her every day, and are ready to do anything for her. But farther than that we cannot go. Do you want to read my letter?
Hagbart. No.
Bishop. I think you should. It is quite a polite letter.
Hagbart. I know you can put things politely enough. But it is the fact, uncle—the fact of your doing it!
Bishop. Yes—I cannot alter that.
Hagbart. Could you not at all events postpone sending the letter?
Bishop. It is sent.
Hagbart. Sent?
Bishop. This morning. Yes. So there is nothing more to be done.
Hagbart. Uncle, you are cruel!
Bishop. How can you say that, Hagbart? I have acquiesced in your giving up your clerical career—and Heaven alone knows what a grief that is to me. (Gets up.) But I will not acquiesce in your bringing into my house a woman who does not even bear her husband's name. Do we as much as know who her husband was? She was both married and divorced abroad. And we don't know anything more about her life since then; it is scarcely likely it has been blameless. Since she came here she has never once been to church. She has led a most eccentric life, and lately has been allowing a man of very evil reputation to visit her.
Hagbart. General Rosen?
Bishop. Yes, General Rosen. He is next door to a drunkard. And he is a dissolute fellow in other ways, too.
Hagbart. He goes everywhere, all the same. He even comes here.
Bishop. Well, you see, he distinguished himself on military service; he has many sociable qualities, and he is well connected. It is the way of the world.
Hagbart. But Mrs. Falk is not to be received?
Bishop. She is a woman.
Hagbart. How long will this sort of thing be endured?
Bishop. Come, come—are you getting those ideas into your head too? You seem to have imbibed a lot of new doctrines lately!
Hagbart. You should have seen her and talked to her once at least, before making up your mind.
Bishop. I will tell you something in confidence, Hagbart. Justice Röst, who lives out there in the country, has often seen General Rosen coming away from her house at most unseemly hours. I will have nothing to do with women of that sort.
Hagbart. What about men of that sort?
Bishop. Well, as I said, that is quite another matter.
Hagbart. Quite so.—Mrs. Falk takes compassion on the General; she interests herself in him. That is all.
Bishop. Did she know him previously, then?
Hagbart. Very likely.
Bishop. Then she has her own private reasons for acting as she does.
Hagbart. Shall I tell you what it is? She has a kinder heart than any of us, and can make a sacrifice more willingly.
Bishop. So you know that?
Hagbart. Yes. Hers is a finer nature than any of ours; it is more completely developed, intellectually and morally.
Bishop. I am listening to you with the profoundest amazement!
Hagbart. Oh, don't misunderstand me! She has her faults.
Bishop. Really, you admit that!—I want to beg something of you earnestly, Hagbart. Go away for a little while.
Hagbart. Go away!
Bishop. Yes, to your uncle's, for instance. Only for a week or a fortnight. You need to clear your thoughts, badly—about all sorts of things. Your brain is in a whirl.
Hagbart. That is true; but—
Bishop. Speak out!
Hagbart. My brain has been in a whirl much longer than you have had any idea of. It has been so ever since that day in winter when I did Mrs. Falk such a horrible injustice.
Bishop. Not exactly an injustice, but—
Hagbart. Yes, an injustice! It was a turning point in my life. To think that I should have given way to such a fanatical outburst! It ended in my being terrified at myself—well, I won't bore you with the whole story of my long fight with myself. You saw nothing of it, because I was not here. But at last, when I got ill and had to go away and take the waters, and then happened to see Aagot—the effect on me was more than anything I could have imagined. I seemed to see the truth; mankind seemed different, and I seemed to hear the voice of life itself at last. You cannot imagine the upheaval it caused in me. It must be that she had something within her that I lacked, and had always lacked! It was her wonderful naturalness; everything she did was done with more charm and gaiety than I found in any one else, and she was quite unconscious of it herself. I used to ask myself what was the reason of it—how it could be that it had been her lot to grow up so free and wholesome. I realised that it was because I had been oblivious to what I lacked myself, that I had been so fanatically severe upon others. I knew it is humiliating to confess it, but it is true. I have always been blundering and impetuous.—But what was I going to say?
Bishop. You were going to speak about Mrs. Falk, I presume.
Hagbart. Yes!—My dear uncle, don't take it amiss. But all this time I have never been able to keep away from her.
Bishop. Then it is she you have been talking to?
Hagbart. Of course!—and of course, that is to say, to Aagot too. You propose my going away. I cannot! If I could multiply myself by two, or if I could double the length of the days, I should never have enough of being with her! No, I have seen daylight now. On no account can I go away.
Bishop. And you call that seeing daylight! Poor boy!
Hagbart. I cannot discuss it with you. You would no more understand than you did that day when you took away those books of grandmother's from me and put them in the lumber-room.
Bishop. Oh, you are bringing that up again? Well, you are at liberty to do as you please. You shall not have the right to say I have exercised any compulsion.
Hagbart. No, uncle, you are very good—to me.
Bishop. But there is a new fact to be taken into consideration. I have noticed it for some days.
Hagbart. What do you mean?
Bishop. In all this conversation we have just had, you have only mentioned Aagot's name twice, at most.
Hagbart. But we were not talking about Aagot.
Bishop. Are you not in love with her any longer?
Hagbart. Not in love with Aagot? (Laughs.) Can you ask that? Do you mean to say—?
Bishop. Yes, I mean to say—
Hagbart (laughing again). No, that is quite a misunderstanding on your part, uncle.
Bishop. Well, I say it again: go away for a week or a fortnight, Hagbart! Consider the situation from a distance—both your own position and that of others!
Hagbart. It is impossible, absolutely impossible, uncle. It would be just as useful to say to me: "Lie down and go to sleep for a week or a fortnight, Hagbart; it will do you good"! No. All my faculties are awake at last—yes, at last—so much so, that sometimes I can scarcely control myself.
Bishop. That is the very reason.
Hagbart. The very reason why I must go straight ahead, for once in my life! No, I must stay here now.—Well, good morning, uncle! I must go out for a turn.
Bishop. Go to call on Mrs. Falk, you mean.
Hagbart (laughing). Unfortunately I haven't the face to do that till this afternoon; I was there the whole day yesterday. But our conversation has set all my thoughts agog again, and when I have no means of appeasing them I have to go out and walk. Thank you, uncle, for being so indulgent to me!
Bishop. Then you don't wish to read my letter?
Hagbart. Ah, that is true—the letter! That upsets the whole thing again. I don't know how I came to forget that.
Bishop. You see for yourself how confused and distracted you are. You need to pull yourself together. Go away for a little!
Hagbart. It is impossible!—Good-bye, uncle!
Bishop. Here is grandmother!
[Enter the GRANDMOTHER and CORNELIA.]
Hagbart. Good morning, grandmother! Have you slept well?
Grandmother (coming forward on CORNELIA's arm). Excellently!
Cornelia. She slept well into the morning.
Bishop. I am delighted, grandmother. (Takes her other arm.)
Grandmother. You needn't shout so loud. It is a fine day to-day and I can hear very well. (To HAGBART.) You didn't come in to see me last night.
Hagbart. I came in too late, grandmother.
Grandmother. I tell you, you needn't talk so loud.
Cornelia. She always wants to make out that she can hear.
Grandmother (as they settle her in the big chair by the window). This is a nice seat—
Bishop. And I am always delighted to see you sitting there.
Grandmother. The window—and the mirror over there.
Cornelia. Yes, it enables you to see everything.
Grandmother. How you do shout, all you good people!
Bishop. I must go and change my things, if you will excuse me. (Goes out to the right.)
Cornelia. Do you want anything more?
Grandmother. No, thank you. (CORNELIA goes out at the back.)
Hagbart. Dear, good grandmother! You are the only one here who understands me!
Grandmother (trying to look round the room). Are we alone?
Hagbart. Yes.
Grandmother. Has your uncle called on Mrs. Falk?
Hagbart. No, worse luck; he has written her a letter.
Grandmother. I thought as much.
Hagbart. Isn't it shameful, grandmother! He won't see her once, or talk to her, before judging her.
Grandmother. They are all alike, these—. Are we alone?
Hagbart. Yes, grandmother.
Grandmother. You must have patience, Hagbart! You used to be patient.
Hagbart. Yes, grandmother.
Grandmother. I have seen so many generations—so many different ways of behaving. In my day we were tolerant.
Hagbart. I enjoyed reading your books so much, grand mother!
Grandmother. Of course you did.—Are we alone?
Hagbart. Yes, grandmother.
Grandmother. I am quite in love with your fiancée, Hagbart. She is like what girls were in my day.
Hagbart. Courageous, weren't they?
Grandmother. Yes, and independent. They seem quite different nowadays.—Are we alone?
Hagbart. Yes.
Grandmother. You get married—and I will come and live with you and her. Hush!
Hagbart. Do you mean it?
Grandmother. Hush! (Looks out of the window.) There is Justice Röst coming, with his wife. Go and tell your uncle!
Hagbart. Yes.
Grandmother. I might have expected it. They came up from the country yesterday.
Hagbart. Good-bye, then, grandmother!
Grandmother. Good-bye, my boy! (HAGBART goes out to the right. The door at the back is opened. CORNELIA ushers in RÖST and MRS. RÖST.)
Cornelia. Please walk in!
Mrs. Röst. Thank you! You must excuse us for calling so early. We came up from the country yesterday, and my husband has to go to the courts for a little while!
Röst. I have to go to the courts to-day. (The BISHOP conies in from the right.)
Bishop. Welcome!
Röst and Mrs. Röst. Thank you!
Mrs. Röst. You must excuse our calling so early; but we came up from the country yesterday, and my husband has to go to the courts to-day.
Röst. I have to go to the courts for a little while.
Bishop. I know.
Mrs. Röst. And there is the old lady in her chair already!
Röst. Good morning, my dear madam!
Mrs. Röst. Good morning!—No, please don't get up!
Grandmother. Oh, I can get up still.
Röst. Ah, I wish I were as active as you!
Mrs. Röst. My husband was saying to Miss Cornelia only last night—
Grandmother. You need not strain yourself so. I can hear perfectly well. (The others exchange glances.)
Röst. I was saying to Miss Cornelia only last night—we met for a few moments after the service—
Grandmother. I know, I know.
Röst. I said I had never known any one of over ninety have all their faculties so remarkably clear—
Mrs. Röst.—so remarkably clear as yours! And such good health, too! My husband has suffered a great deal from asthma lately.
Röst. I have suffered a great deal from asthma lately.
Mrs. Röst. And I from a heart trouble, which—
Grandmother. We did not know anything about such ailments in my day.
Mrs. Röst. Isn't she sweet! She doesn't remember that people were sometimes ill in her day.
Bishop. Lovely weather we are having!
Röst. Delightful weather! I cannot in the least understand how it is that I—. (The BISHOP brings a chair forward for him.) Oh, please don't trouble, my lord! Allow me.
Mrs. Röst. My husband must have caught cold. (RÖST sits down.)
Cornelia. It certainly was draughty in church last night.
Röst. But we sat in the corner farthest from the door.
Mrs. Röst. We sat in the corner farthest from the door. That was why we were not able to bid your lordship good evening afterwards.
Bishop. There was such a crowd.
Röst, Mrs. Röst, and Cornelia. Such a crowd!
Mrs. Röst. These services must be a great help in your lordship's labours.
Röst. Yes, every one says that.
Bishop. Yes, if only the result were something a little more practical. We live in sad times.
All three (as before). Sad times!
Mrs. Röst. We only just heard yesterday and we met so many friends that I was prevented from asking your sister about it—we have only just heard—
Röst. And that is why we have come here to-day. We believe in being straightforward!
Mrs. Röst. Straightforward! That is my husband's motto.
Bishop. Probably you mean about Hagbart's engagement?
Röst and Mrs. Röst. To Miss Falk?
Cornelia. Yes, it is quite true.
Mrs. Röst. Really?
Cornelia. My brother came to the conclusion that he had no right to oppose it.
Röst. Quite so. It must have been a difficult matter for your lordship to decide.
Bishop. I cannot deny that it was.
Mrs. Röst. How Mr. Tallhaug has changed!
Röst. Yes, it seems only the other day he—
Bishop. We must not be too severe on young people in that respect nowadays, Mrs. Röst.
Röst. It is the spirit of the time!
Bishop. Besides, I must say that the young lady is by no means displeasing to me.
Cornelia. My brother has a very good opinion of her—although he finds her manner perhaps a little free, a little too impetuous.
Mrs. Röst. But her adoptive mother?
Röst. Yes, her adoptive mother!
Cornelia. My brother has decided not to call on her.
Röst and Mrs. Röst. Really!
Mrs. Röst. We are extremely glad to hear that!
Röst. It was what we wanted to know! Everybody we met yesterday was anxious to know.
Mrs. Röst. Everybody! We were so concerned about it.
Cornelia. My brother has written to her, to make it quite clear to her.
Röst. Naturally!
Mrs. Röst. We are very glad to hear it!
Grandmother (looking out of the window). There is a carriage stopping at the door.
Cornelia. I thought I heard a carriage, too. (Gets up.)
Grandmother. There is a lady getting out of it.
Mrs. Röst. A lady?—Good heavens, surely it is not—? (Gets up.)
Röst. What do you say? (Gets up.)
Cornelia. She has a veil on.
Mrs. Röst. I really believe—! (To her husband.) You look, my dear—you know her.
Röst. It is she; I recognise her coachman Hans.
Bishop (who has got up). But perhaps it is Miss Aagot?
Cornelia. No, it is not Miss Aagot.—She is in the house by this time. What are we to do?
Mrs. Röst. Has she not had your lordship's letter?
Bishop. Yes, this morning.
Röst. And in spite of that—?
Bishop. Perhaps for that very reason. Ahem!—Cornelia, you must go down and—
Cornelia. Not on any account! I refuse!
Mrs. Röst (to her husband). Come, dear! Be quick, let us get away. (Looks for her parasol.) Where is my parasol?
Bishop (in a low voice). Won't you wait a little while Mr. Röst?
Röst. Oho!
Mrs. Röst. My parasol! I can't find my parasol.
Röst. Because you have got it in your hand, my love!
Mrs. Röst. So I have! You see how upset I am. Make haste—come along! Can we get out this way?
Röst. Through the Bishop's bedroom!
Mrs. Röst. Oh!—But if you come with me, my dear!—Are we to meet this woman? Why do you stand still? Surely you don't want to—?
Röst. Let us wait a little.
Mrs. Röst. Wait? So that you may talk to her? Oh, you men—you are all alike!
Bishop. But, you know, some one must—. Cornelia!
Cornelia. Not for worlds! I am not going to stir an inch.
Grandmother. Gracchus!
Bishop. Yes, grandmother?
Mrs. Röst. Now the old lady is going to interfere. I thought as much!
Grandmother. Courtesy is a duty that every one must recognise.
Bishop. You are quite right. (Goes towards the back of the room; at the same time a knock is heard on the door). Come in! (The door opens, and LEONARDA enters.)
Mrs. Röst. It is she!
Röst. Be quiet!
Mrs. Röst. But wouldn't you rather—?
Leonarda. Excuse me, am I speaking to the Bishop?
Bishop. Yes, madam. Whom have I the honour to—?
Leonarda. Mrs. Falk.
Bishop. Allow me to introduce my sister—and Mr. Justice Röst and Mrs. Röst—and this is—
Leonarda. "Grandmamma" of whom I have heard, I think!
Bishop. Yes. Let me present Mrs. Falk to you, grandmother.
Grandmother (getting up). I am very glad to see you, ma'am.
Mrs. Röst and Cornelia. What does she say?
Grandmother. As the oldest of the family—which is the only merit I possess—let me bid you welcome. (LEONARDA gives a start, then kneels down and kisses her hand.)
Mrs. Röst. Good gracious!
Cornelia. Well!
Mrs. Röst. Let us go away!
Röst (in a low voice). Does your lordship wish—?
Bishop (in the same tone). No, thank you—I must go through with it now.
Röst. Good morning, then!
Bishop. Many thanks for your visit and for being so frank with me.
Mrs. Röst. That is always our way, your lordship. Good morning!
Cornelia (as they advance to take leave of her). I will see you out.
Röst (to the GRANDMOTHER). I hope I shall always see you looking as well, madam!
Mrs. Röst. Good-bye, madam! No, please don't disturb yourself. You have over-exerted yourself just now you know.
Grandmother. The same to you.
Röst and Mrs. Röst. I beg your pardon?
Bishop. She thought you were wishing her good day—or something of that sort.
Röst and Mrs. Röst. Oh, I see! (They laugh. They both ceremoniously in silence to LEONARDA as they pass her; CORNELIA and the BISHOP go with them to see them out, the BISHOP turning at the door and coming back into the room.)
Bishop (to LEONARDA). Won't you sit down?
Leonarda. Your lordship sent me a letter to-day. (She pauses for an answer, but without effect.) In it you give me to understand, as politely as possible, that your family does not wish to have any intercourse with me.
Bishop. I imagined, Mrs. Falk, that you had no such desire, either previously or now.
Leonarda. What it rally means is that you want me to make over my property to the two young people, and disappear.
Bishop. If you choose to interpret it in that way, Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. I presume your nephew has told you that my means are not such as to allow of my providing for one establishment here and another for myself elsewhere.
Bishop. Quite so. But could you not sell your property?
Leonarda. And all three of us leave here, your lordship means? Of course that would be possible; but the property is just now becoming of some value, because of the projected railway—and, besides, it has been so long in our family.
Bishop. It is a very fine property.
Leonarda. And very dear to us.
Bishop. It pains me deeply that things should have taken this turn.
Leonarda. Then may I not hope that the fact may influence your lordship's decision in some degree?
Bishop. My decision, madam, has nothing to do with your property.
Leonarda. During all these eight years have I offended you in any way—or any one here?
Bishop. Mrs. Falk, you know quite well that you have not.
Leonarda. Or is it on account of the way I have brought up my niece—?
Bishop. Your niece does you the greatest credit, madam.
Leonarda. Then perhaps some of my people have been laying complaints about me?—or some one has been complaining of them?
Bishop. Not even the most censorious person, my dear madam, could pretend that you have been anything but exemplary in that respect.
Leonarda. Then what is it?
Bishop. You can scarcely expect me to tell a lady—
Leonarda. I will help you out. It is my past life.
Bishop. Since you say it yourself—yes.
Leonarda. Do you consider that nothing can expiate a past—about which, moreover, you know nothing?
Bishop. I have not seen in you any signs of a desire to expiate it, Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. You mean that you have not seen me at confession or in church?
Bishop. Yes.
Leonarda. Do you want me to seek expiation by being untrue to myself?
Bishop. No; but the way I refer to is the only sure one.
Leonarda. There are others. I have chosen the way hard work and duty.
Bishop. I said the only sure way, Mrs. Falk. Your way does not protect against temptation.
Leonarda. You have something definite in your mind when you say that, have you not?—Shall I help you out again? It is General Rosen.
Bishop. Precisely.
Leonarda. You think I ought to send him away?
Bishop. Yes.
Leonarda. But it would be all up with him if I did. And there is a good deal of ability in him.
Bishop. I have neither the right nor the desire to meddle in affairs I know nothing of; but I must say that only a person of unimpeachable reputation should attempt the rescue of such a man as General Rosen.
Leonarda. You are quite right.
Bishop. You are paying too high a price for it, Mrs. Falk, and without any certainty of achieving anything.
Leonarda. Maybe. But there is one aspect of the matter that you have forgotten.
Bishop. And that is?
Leonarda. Compassion.
Bishop. Quite so.—Yes.—Of course, if you approach the matter from that point of view, I have nothing to say.
Leonarda. You don't believe it?
Bishop. I only wish the matter depended upon what I myself believe. But it does not, Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. But surely you will admit that one ought to do good even at the risk of one's reputation?
Bishop. Undoubtedly.
Leonarda. Well, will your lordship not apply that maxim to yourself? It is quite possible that for a while your congregation's faith in you might be a little disturbed if you were to call upon me; but you know now, from my own lips, that the rumours you have heard are false, and that you ought rather to be all the more anxious to support me in what I am trying to do. And in that way you will do a good turn to these two young people, and to me, without driving me away. For some years now I have lived only for others. One does not do that without making some sacrifices, my lord—especially when, as in my case, one does not feel that one's life is quite over.
Bishop. You look the picture of youth, Mrs. Falk!
Leonarda. Oh, no—still I have not done it without a struggle. And now I want a little reward for it. Who would not? I want to spend my life with those for whom I have sacrificed myself; I want to see their happiness and make it mine. Do not rob me of that, my lord! It depends upon you!
Bishop. I do not quite see how it depends upon me.
Leonarda. It depends upon you for this reason; if my exile is to be the price paid for her marriage, my niece will never consent to wed your nephew.
Bishop. That would be very distressing to me, Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. I made haste to come to you, before she should know anything about it. I have brought your letter with me. Take it back, my lord! (Searches in her pocket for the letter.)
Bishop (noticing her growing anxiety). What is wrong?
Leonarda. The letter!—I laid it on my desk while I dressed to come out, meaning to bring it with me—but in my hurry and anxiety I have forgotten it! And now Aagot is making out accounts at that very desk. If she sees your handwriting she will suspect something at once, because of course we have been expecting you every day.
Bishop. Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done?
Leonarda. Indeed there is. When she comes here—for she will understand everything and come straight here—could not your lordship meet her yourself, and say to her—. (Stops short.)
Bishop. Say what?
Leonarda. "I have been mistaken. People should be judged, not by their mistakes, but by what they have achieved; not by their beliefs, but by their efforts towards goodness and truth. I mean to teach my congregation that lesson by calling upon your aunt next Sunday." (The GRANDMOTHER nods at her approvingly. LEONARDA sees this, takes her hand, and turns again towards the BISHOP.) This venerable lady pleads for me too. She belongs to a day that was more tolerant than ours—at all events than ours is in this little out-of-the-way place. All the wisdom of her long life is summed up in these two words: Have forbearance!
Bishop. There is one kind of forbearance, Mrs. Falk, that is forbidden us—the forbearance that would efface the distinction between good and evil. That is what the "toleration" of my grandmother's day meant; but it is not an example to be followed.
Leonarda (leaving the GRANDMOTHER's side). If I have erred—if I seem of no account, from the lofty standpoint from which you look upon life—remember that you serve One who was the friend of sinners.
Bishop. I will be your friend when I see you seeking your soul's salvation. I will do all I can then.
Leonarda. Help me to expiate my past! That means everything to me—and is not much for you to do. I only ask for a little show of courtesy, instead of indignities! I will contrive that we shall seldom meet. Only don't drive me away—because that means exposing me to contempt. Believe me, I will give you no cause for shame; and your good deed will be rewarded by the gratitude of the young people.
Bishop. I am deeply distressed at having to take up this attitude towards you. You are bound to think me hardhearted; but that is not the case. I have to consider that I am the guardian of thousands of anxious consciences. I dare not for my nephew's sake offend the respect they feel for me, the trust they put in me; nor dare I disregard the law we all must follow. For a bishop to do as I have done in opening my doors to your niece, is in itself no small thing, when you consider the dissensions that are going on in the Church nowadays. I cannot, I dare not, go farther and open my doors to a woman whom my whole congregation—albeit unjustly—well, I won't wound your feelings by going on.
Leonarda. Really?
Bishop. Believe me, it gives me great pain. You have made a remarkable impression upon me personally. (Meanwhile the GRANDMOTHER has got up to go out of the room.)
Leonarda. Are you going away? (The BISHOP goes to the wall and rings a bell.)
Grandmother. Yes—I am too old for these scenes. And, after what I have just heard, I am sure I have no right to sit here either. (CORNELIA comes in, takes her arm, and assists her out.)
Leonarda (coming forward). Now I can say this to your lordship: you have no courage. Standing face to face with me here, you know what you ought to do, but dare not do it.
Bishop. You are a woman—so I will not answer.
Leonarda. It is because I am a woman that you have said things to me to-day that you would not have said to—to General Rosen, for instance—a man who is allowed to come to your lordship's house in spite of his past life, and his present life too.
Bishop. He shall come here no more in future. Beside, you cannot deny that there is a difference between your two cases.
Leonarda. There is indeed a difference: but I did not expect the distinction to be made on these lines. Nor did I imagine, my lord, that your duty was to protect, not the weaker vessel, but the stronger—to countenance open vice, and refuse help to those who are unjustly accused!
Bishop. Do you think there is any use in our prolonging this conversation?
[AAGOT opens the door at the back and calls from the doorway.]
Aagot. Aunt!
Leonarda. Aagot! Good heavens!
Aagot (coming forward). Aunt!
Leonarda. Then you know? (AAGOT throws herself into her arms.) My child!
Aagot. I felt sure you would be here, heaven help me!
Leonarda. Control yourself, my child!
Aagot. No, I cannot. This is too much.
Bishop. Would you ladies rather be alone?
Aagot. Where is Hagbart?
Bishop. He has gone out for a walk.
Aagot. It makes me boil with rage! So this was to be the price of my being received into your family—that I was to sell the one who has been a mother to me! Sell her, whom I love and honour more than all the world!
Bishop. Mrs. Falk, do you wish to continue?—or—
Aagot. Continue what? Your negotiations for the sale of my dear one? No. And if it were a question of being admitted to heaven without her, I should refuse!
Bishop. Child! Child!
Aagot. You must let me speak! I must say what is in my heart. And this, at any rate, is in it—that I hold fast to those I love, with all the strength that is in my being!
Bishop. You are young, and speak with the exaggeration of youth. But I think we should do better to put an end to this interview; it can lead to nothing.
Leonarda. Let us go.
[HAGBART appears at the door.]
Aagot (seeing him before the others). Hagbart!
Hagbart. I heard your voice from outside. Mrs. Falk—
Aagot. Hagbart! (She goes towards him, but as he hastens to her side she draws back.) No—don't touch me!
Hagbart. But, Aagot—?
Aagot. Why did you not manage to prevent this? You never said a word to me about it!
Hagbart. Because really I knew nothing about it.
Aagot. One becomes conscious of such things as that without needing to be told. It hasn't weighed much on your mind!—Did you not know of it just now?
Hagbart. Yes, but—
Aagot. And you didn't fly to tell us?
Hagbart. It is true I—
Aagot. Your mind was taken up with something else altogether. And my only aim in life has been that everything should be made right for her! I thought you were going to do that.
Hagbart. You are unjust, Aagot. What can I do—?
Aagot. No, you are too much of a dreamer. But this you must realise—that I am not going to buy an honoured position at the price of insults to my aunt; that is the very last thing possible.
Hagbart. Of course! But need there be any question of that? I will come and live with you two, and—
Aagot. You talk like a fool!