of the paper that was meant for you came into my
hands.

The Editor. So that was it!--Forgive me, old friend! Won't you give me
your hand?

Mrs. Evje (coming forward). That he shall never do!

The Editor (glancing over his shoulder at her). Let no one come between
us at a moment like this! You don't know--. A hundred times in my life
I would have done what I am doing now, had I not been afraid that people
would call it affectation on my part and repulse me. Don't _you_ do
that!--least of all now! Give me your hand, Evje! I beg you, in the
sight and hearing of you all--. (EVJE seems to vacillate.)

Mrs. Evje. No, you shan't!--not while he has anything to do with a
newspaper. Otherwise it will all begin over again to-morrow. He is not
his own master, you know.

The Editor. I have done with it all.

Mrs. Evje. Oh, you have said that so often! Nobody believes it. No; when
a man can push political hatred so far as to write about an old friend,
in whose house he has been a daily guest, as if he were a criminal--and
all because he doesn't like his son-in-law, or his servant--one doesn't
shake hands with him the very day his attacks appear in the paper.

The Editor (who, all the tinge, has kept his back turned to MRS. EVJE,
and has not looked at her). Evje, you are a good-hearted fellow, I know.
Don't listen to what others say, now. This is a very bitter hour for me.
You would be doing a good deed! Give me your hand--or a word! I am
in such a state now that I must have visible signs of _some one's_
forgiveness, or I shall--!

Mrs. Evje (emphatically). Yes, a little repentance will do you good!
But it will do you no good if you obtain forgiveness easily! You want
to learn, just for once, what it is to be wounded at heart. You are only
accustomed to deal with people whom you can flog one day and have at
your feet--either from fear or from vanity--the next. And have we--God
forgive us!--ever thought seriously the worse of you for it? No; because
we never understood what it was till we were hit by it ourselves. But
that is all the more reason why we should do our duty now! Hatred shall
be met with hatred!

The Doctor (at the back of the room, to GERTRUD and HARALD). She is her
father's daughter, after all, when it comes to the point!

The Editor (turns upon MRS. EVJE, with his fist clenched, but restrains
himself from answering her). Then you won't shake hands, Evje? Not a
word of forgiveness?

Evje. I think my wife