must admit that it is not what we have
deserved; indeed it is more than a respected and well-bred family can
put up with.

Harald. I quite agree that it is more than a respected and well-bred
family _ought_ to put up with.

Mrs. Evje. Oh, so _you_ feel that too?

Harald. Certainly. And the only excuse I can see is that there are many
more in the same case. It is only in that way that such things become
possible.

Evje. I do not understand. Many more like--?--like whom?

Harald. Like you!

Mrs. Evje. In what respect?

Harald. I will explain. Most of the successful politicians nowadays have
not gained their position by means of any greatness of their own, but
by the pitiable weakness of others. Another age will form a different
estimate of them--see them in their proper perspective, and find them to
be much smaller men!

Evje. But what has that to do with us?

Harald. Well, just try to size up that man whom a little while ago you
turned out of your house and afterwards sent a message to--

Evje. We sent _no_ message to him!

Mrs. Evje. A friend of ours has gone to talk to him. That is quite a
different thing!

Harald. Well, take his measure by yours and yours by his! He went away,
and he will come back like a conquering hero. Will that be thanks to
his greatness, or his talent--to the loftiness of his opinions or his
feelings? No,--it will be thanks to your pitiable weakness.

Mrs. Evje. Upon my word!

Evje. Well, I--!

Harald. Do you think any one who has any pluck in his disposition would
consent to be a party to such a contemptible state of things? Think of
your own daughter, educated by that good old man who lies in there, but
an obedient child to you; think how she must be perpetually torn between
what she loves and respects and what she sees going on here! No wonder
she is ill! But remember this--she is not ill because she sticks to me;
she is ill because of your pitiable weakness!

Mrs. Evje. How can you dare to say such things! So you too--!

Evje. Such an absolute want of respect!

Harald. Listen to me, once for all. I intend, God helping me, to take
up the fight that has killed my brother, the noblest man I know! And
Gertrud is going to take up _her_ share in the fight, as I do mine. But
to come to this house as long as _he_ comes here--to go through what I
have gone through to-day--sullies my self-respect to such an extent,
and offends my better feelings so deeply, that either he never s