whom I have gone to so much trouble to bring up properly.

ROBERT.

You may think,--but I don't understand you at all.

FORESTER.

There's just the rub! You don't do it purposely. But, confound it! Don't
make such a fuss over the girl, do you hear? If you go on this way, she
will have you in her pocket within a month. The women always want to
rule; all their thoughts and aspirations tend to that end, without being
themselves aware of it. And when they finally do rule, they are unhappy
in spite of it; I know more than one instance of this. I only look
inside the door, and I know for certain what sort of figure the man
cuts. I only look at the cattle. If the dog or the cat is not well
trained, neither are the children; and the wife still less. Hey? My wife
does not yet know me as far as that here [_points to his heart_] is
concerned. And if she should ever get hold of that secret--then good-by,
authority! The wife may be an angel, but the man must act like a bear.
And especially a huntsman. That's part of the business, just as much as
the moustache and the green coat.

ROBERT.

But could it not be possible that--

FORESTER (_eagerly_). No, Robert. Once and for all, no! There is no way
out of it. Either he trains her, or she trains him.--For example; let me
give you only one instance how to go about it. My wife cannot see any
human being suffer; now the poor wretches come in troops, and I should
like to know what is to come of it all, if I were to praise her to her
face. Therefore I grumble and swear like a trooper, but at the same time
I gradually withdraw, so that she has full liberty. And when I notice
that she is through, then I come along again, as if by accident, and
keep on grumbling and swearing. Then people say: "The Hereditary
Forester is harder on the poor than the devil himself, but his wife and
his girl, they are angels from heaven." And they say this so that I
should hear it; and hear it I do. But I pretend not to notice it, and
laugh in my sleeve; and to keep up appearances I bluster all the
more.--It seems the guests are arriving. Robert, my wife, and my girl,
my Mary--if I at some time--you understand me, Robert. Give me your
hand. God is looking down on us.

[_Wipes his eyes_.]

The deuce! Confound it! Don't let the cat out of the bag to the
women--and you rule her as it ought to be.

[_He turns around to hide his emotion, with gestures expressive of his
vexation that he cannot control himse