PART I (continued 2)

CURT. I have noticed that you have wrought both your life and your environment out of your poetical imagination.

CAPTAIN. How could I have lived otherwise? How could I have endured? [Puts his hand over his heart.

CURT. How are you doing?

CAPTAIN. Poorly. [Pause] Then comes a moment when the faculty for what you call poetical imagination gives out. And then reality leaps forth in all its nakedness—It is frightful! [He is now speaking in a voice of lachrymose senility, and with his lower jaw drooping] Look here, my dear friend—[controls himself and speaks in his usual voice] forgive me!—When I was in the city and consulted the doctor [now the tearful voice returns] he said that I was played out—[in his usual voice] and that I couldn't live much longer.

CURT. Was that what he said?

CAPTAIN. [With tearful voice] That's what he said!

CURT. So it was not true?

CAPTAIN. What? Oh—no, that was not true. [Pause.

CURT. Was the rest of it not true either?

CAPTAIN. What do you mean?

CURT. That my son was ordered to report here as cadet?

CAPTAIN. I never heard of it.

CURT. Do you know—your ability to wipe out your own misdeeds is miraculous!

CAPTAIN. I don't understand what you are talking of.

CURT. Then you have come to the end!

CAPTAIN. Well, there is not much left!

CURT. Tell me, perhaps you never applied for that divorce which would bring your wife into disgrace?

CAPTAIN. Divorce? No, I have not heard of it.

CURT, [Rising] Will you admit, then, that you have been lying?

CAPTAIN. You employ such strong words, my friend. All of us need forbearance.

CURT. Oh, you have come to see that?

CAPTAIN. [Firmly, with clear voice] Yes, I have come to see that—And for this reason, Curt, please forgive me! Forgive everything!

CURT. That was a manly word! But I have nothing to forgive you. And I am not the man you believe me to be. No longer now! Least of all one worthy of receiving your confessions!

CAPTAIN. [With clear voice] Life seemed so peculiar—so contrary, so malignant—ever since my childhood—and people seemed so bad that I grew bad also——

CURT. [On his feet, perturbed, and glancing at the telegraph instrument] Is it possible to close off an instrument like that?

CAPTAIN. Hardly.

CURT. [With increasing alarm] Who is Sergeant-Major Östberg?

CAPTAIN. An honest fellow, but something of a busybody, I should say.

CURT. And who is the Quartermaster?

CAPTAIN. He is my enemy, of course, but I have nothing bad to say of him.

CURT. [Looking out through the window, where a lantern is seen moving to and fro] What are they doing with the lantern out on the battery?

CAPTAIN. Do you see a lantern?

CURT. Yes, and people moving about.

CAPTAIN. I suppose it is what we call a service squad.

CURT. What is that?

CAPTAIN. A few men and a corporal. Probably some poor wretch that has to be locked up.

CURT. Oh! [Pause.

CAPTAIN. Now, when you know Alice, how do you like her?

CURT. I cannot tell—I have no understanding of people at all. She is as inexplicable to me as you are, or as I am myself. For I am reaching the age when wisdom makes this acknowledgment: I know nothing, I understand nothing; But when I observe an action, I like to get at the motive behind it. Why did you push her into the water?

CAPTAIN. I don't know. It merely seemed quite natural to me, as she was standing on the pier, that she ought to be in the water.

CURT. Have you ever regretted it?

CAPTAIN. Never!

CURT. That's strange!

CAPTAIN. Of course, it is! So strange that I cannot realise that I am the man who has been guilty of such a mean act.

CURT. Have you not expected her to take some revenge?

CAPTAIN. Well, she seems to have taken it in full measure; and that, too, seems no less natural to me.

CURT. What has so suddenly brought you to this cynical resignation?

CAPTAIN. Since I looked death in the face, life has presented itself from a different viewpoint. Tell me, if you were to judge between Alice and myself, whom would you place in the right?

CURT. Neither of you. But to both of you I should give endless compassion—perhaps a little more of it to you!

CAPTAIN. Give me your hand, Curt!

CURT. [Gives him one hand and puts the other one on the CAPTAIN'S shoulder] Old boy!

ALICE. [In from the left, carrying a sunshade] Well, how harmonious! Oh, friendship! Has there been no telegram yet?

CURT. [Coldly] No.

ALICE. This delay makes me impatient, and when I grow impatient I push matters along—Look, Curt, how I give him the final bullet. And now he'll bite the grass! First, I load—I know all about rifle practice, the famous rifle practice of which less than 5,000 copies were sold—and then I aim—fire! [She takes aim with her sunshade] How is your new wife? The young, beautiful, unknown one? You don't know! But I know how my lover is doing. [Puts her arms around the neck of CURT and kisses him; he thrusts her away from himself] He is well, although still a little bashful! You wretch, whom I have never loved—you, who were too conceited to be jealous—you never saw how I was leading you by the nose!

The CAPTAIN draws the sabre and makes a leap at her, aiming at her several futile blows that only hit the furniture.

ALICE. Help! Help!

[CURT does not move.

CAPTAIN. [Falls with the sabre in his hand] Judith, avenge me!

ALICE. Hooray! He's dead!

[CURT withdraws toward the door in the background.

CAPTAIN. [Gets on his feet] Not yet! [Sheathes the sabre and sits down in the easy-chair by the sewing-table] Judith! Judith!

ALICE. [Drawing nearer to CURT] Now I go—with you!

CURT. [Pushes her back with such force that she sinks to her knees] Go back to the hell whence you came! Good-bye for ever! [Goes to the door.

CAPTAIN. Don't leave me Curt; she will kill me!

ALICE. Don't desert me, Curt—don't desert us!

CURT. Good-bye! [Goes out.

ALICE. [With a sudden change of attitude] The wretch! That's a friend for you!

CAPTAIN. [Softly] Forgive me, Alice, and come here—come quick!

ALICE. [Over to the CAPTAIN] That's the worst rascal and hypocrite I have met in my life! Do you know, you are a man after all!

CAPTAIN. Listen, Alice! I cannot live much longer.

ALICE. Is that so?

CAPTAIN. The doctor has said so.

ALICE. Then there was no truth in the rest either?

CAPTAIN. No.

ALICE. [In despair] Oh, what have I done!

CAPTAIN. There is help for everything.

ALICE. No, this is beyond helping!

CAPTAIN. Nothing is beyond helping, if you only wipe it out and pass on.

ALICE. But the telegram—the telegram!

CAPTAIN. Which telegram?

ALICE. [On her knees beside the CAPTAIN] Are we then cast out? Must this happen? I have sprung a mine under myself, under us. Why did you have to tell untruths? And why should that man come here to tempt me? We are lost! Your magnanimity might have helped everything, forgiven everything!

CAPTAIN. What is it that cannot be forgiven? What is it that I have not already forgiven you?

ALICE. You are right—but there is no help for this.

CAPTAIN. I cannot guess it, although I know your ingenuity when it comes to villanies——

ALICE. Oh, if I could only get out of this, I should care for you—I should love you, Edgar!

CAPTAIN. Listen to me! Where do I stand?

ALICE. Don't you think anybody can help us—well, no man can!

CAPTAIN. Who could then help?

ALICE. [Looking the CAPTAIN straight in the eye] I don't know—Think of it, what is to become of the children with their name dishonoured——

CAPTAIN. Have you dishonoured that name?

ALICE. Not I! Not I! And then they must leave school! And as they go out into the world, they will be lonely as we, and cruel as we—Then you didn't meet Judith either, I understand now?

CAPTAIN. No, but wipe it out!

The telegraph receiver clicks. ALICE flies up.

ALICE. [Screams] Now ruin is overtaking us! [To the CAPTAIN] Don't listen!

CAPTAIN. [Quietly] I am not going to listen, dear child—just calm yourself!

ALICE. [Standing by the instrument, raises herself on tiptoe in order to look out through the window] Don't listen! Don't listen!

CAPTAIN. [Holding his hands over his ears] Lisa, child, I am stopping up my ears.

ALICE. [On her knees, with lifted hands] God, help us! The squad is coming—[Weeping and sobbing] God in heaven!

She appears to be moving her lips as if in silent prayer.

The telegraph receiver continues to click for a while and a long white strip of paper seems to crawl out of the instrument. Then complete silence prevails once more.

ALICE. [Rises, tears off the paper strip, and reads it in silence. Then she turns her eyes upward for a moment. Goes over to the CAPTAIN and kisses him on the forehead] That is over now! It was nothing!

Sits down in the other chair, puts her handkerchief to her face, and breaks into a violent spell of weeping.

CAPTAIN. What kind of secrets are these?

ALICE. Don't ask! It is over now!

CAPTAIN. AS you please, child.

ALICE. You would not have spoken like that three days ago—what has done it?

CAPTAIN. Well, dear, when I fell down that first time, I went a little way on the other side of the grave. What I saw has been forgotten, but the impression of it still remains.

ALICE. And it was?

CAPTAIN. A hope—for something better!

ALICE. Something better?

CAPTAIN. Yes. That this could be the real life, I have, in fact, never believed: it is death—or something still worse!

ALICE. And we——

CAPTAIN. Have probably been set to torment each other—so it seems at least!

ALICE. Have we tormented each other enough?

CAPTAIN. Yes, I think so! And upset things! [Looks around] Suppose we put things to rights? And clean house?

ALICE. Yes, if it can be done.

CAPTAIN. [Gets up to survey the room] It can't be done in one day—no, it can't!

ALICE. In two, then! Many days!

CAPTAIN. Let us hope so! [Pause. Sits down again] So you didn't get free this time after all! But then, you didn't get me locked up either! [ALICE looks staggered] Yes, I know you wanted to put me in prison, but I wipe it out. I suppose you have done worse than that—[ALICE is speechless] And I was innocent of those defalcations.

ALICE. And now you intend me to become your nurse?

CAPTAIN. If you are willing!

ALICE. What else could I do?

CAPTAIN. I don't know!

ALICE. [Sits down, numbed and crushed] These are the eternal torments! Is there, then, no end to them?

CAPTAIN. Yes, if we are patient. Perhaps life begins when death comes.

ALICE. If it were so! [Pause.

CAPTAIN. You think Curt a hypocrite?

ALICE. Of course I do!

CAPTAIN. And I don't! But all who come near us turn evil and go their way. Curt was weak, and the evil is strong! [Pause] How commonplace life has become! Formerly blows were struck; now you shake your fist at the most! I am fairly certain that, three months from now, we shall celebrate our silver wedding—with Curt as best man—and with the Doctor and Gerda among the guests. The Quartermaster will make the speech and the Sergeant-Major will lead the cheering. And if I know the Colonel right, he will come on his own invitation—Yes, you may laugh! But do you recall the silver wedding of Adolph—in the Fusiliers? The bride had to carry her wedding ring on the right hand, because the groom in a tender moment had chopped off her left ring finger with his dirk. [ALICE puts her handkerchief to her mouth in order to repress her laughter] Are you crying? No, I believe you are laughing! Yes, child, partly we weep and partly we laugh. Which is the right thing to do?—Don't ask me! The other day I read in a newspaper that a man had been divorced seven times—which means that he had been married seven times—and finally, at the age of ninety-eight, he ran away with his first wife and married her again. Such is love! If life be serious, or merely a joke, is more than I can decide. Often it is most painful when a joke, and its seriousness is after all more agreeable and peaceful. But when at last you try to be serious, somebody comes and plays a joke on you—as Curt, for instance! Do you want a silver wedding? [ALICE remains silent] Oh, say yes! They will laugh at us, but what does it matter? We may laugh also, or keep serious, as the occasion may require.

ALICE. Well, all right!

CAPTAIN. Silver wedding, then! [Rising] Wipe out and pass on! Therefore, let us pass on!

Curtain.