T I

(SCENE.--A sitting-room in the TJAELDES' house, opening on a verandah
that is decorated with flowers. It is a hot summer's day. There is a
view of the sea beyond the verandah, and boats are visible among the
islands that fringe the coast. A good-sized yacht, with sails spread, is
lying close up under the verandah on the right. The room is luxuriously
furnished and full of flowers. There are two French windows in the
left-hand wall; two doors in the right-hand. A table in the middle of
the room; arm-chairs and rocking-chairs scattered about. A sofa in the
foreground on the right. LIEUTENANT HAMAR is lying on the sofa, and
SIGNE sitting in a rocking-chair.)

Hamar. What shall we do with ourselves to-day?

Signe (rocking herself). Hm! (A pause.)

Hamar. That was a delicious sail we had last night. (Yawns.) But I am
sleepy to-day. Shall we go for a ride?

Signe. Hm! (A pause.)

Hamar. I am too hot on this sofa. I think I will move. (Gets up. SIGNE
begins to hum an air as she rocks herself.) Play me something, Signe!

Signe (singing her words to the air she has been humming). The piano is
out of tune.

Hamar. Read to me, then!

Signe (as before, looking out of the window). They are swimming the
horses. They are swimming the horses. They are swimming the horses.

Hamar. I think I will go and have a swim too. Or perhaps I will wait
till nearer lunch-time.

Signe (as before). So as to have a better appetite--appetite--appetite.

(MRS. TJAELDE comes in from the right, walking slowly.)

Hamar. You look very thoughtful!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I don't know what to order.

Signe (as before). For dinner, I suppose you mean?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes.

Hamar. Do you expect any one?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, your father writes to me that Mr. Finne is coming.

Signe (speaking). The most tiresome person possible, of course.

Mrs. Tjaelde. How would boiled salmon and roast chicken do?

Signe. We had that the other day.

Mrs. Tjaelde. (With a sigh). There is nothing that we didn't. There is
so little choice in the market just now.

Signe. Then we ought to send to town.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, these meals, these meals!

Hamar (yawning). They are the best thing in life, anyway.

Signe. To eat, yes--but not to cook; I never will cook a dinner.

Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down at the table). One could put up with the
cooking. It's the having always to think of something fresh!

Hamar. Why don't you get a chef from one of the hote