CHARACTERS

Axel, an artist
Bertha, his wife, artist
Abel, her friend
Willmer, litterateur
OeSTERMARK, a doctor
Mrs. Hall, his divorced wife
the misses hall, her daughters by a second marriage
Carl Starck, lieutenant
Mrs. Starck, his wife
maid

[Scene for the whole play.-An artist’s studio in Paris; it is on the ground floor, has glass windows looking out on an orchard. At back of scene a large window and door to hall. On the walls hang studies, canvases, weapons, costumes and plaster casts. To right there is a door leading to Axel’s room; to left a door leading to Bertha’s room. There is a model stand left center. To right an easel and painting materials. A large sofa, a large store through the doors of which one sees a hot coal fire. There is a hanging-lamp from ceiling. At rise of curtain Axel and Doctor Oestermark are discovered.]

Axel [Sitting, painting]. And you, too, are in Paris!

Dr. OeSTERMARK. Everything gathers here as the center of the world; and so you are married-and happy?

Axel. Oh, yes, so, so. Yes, I’m quite happy. That’s understood.

Dr. OeSTERMARK. What’s understood?

Axel. Look here, you’re a widower. How was it with your marriage?

Dr. OeSTERMARK. Oh, very nice-for her.

Axel. And for you?

Dr. OeSTERMARK. So, so! But you see one must compromise, and we compromised to the end.

Axel. What do you mean by compromise?

Dr. OeSTERMARK. I mean-that I gave in!

Axel. You?

Dr. OeSTERMARK. Yes, you wouldn’t think that of a man like me, would you?

Axel. No, I would never have thought that. Look here, don’t you believe in woman, eh?

Dr. OeSTERMARK. No, sir! I do not. But I love her.

Axel. In your way-yes!

Dr. OeSTERMARK. In my way-yes. How about your way?

Axel. We have arranged a sort of comradeship, you see, and friendship is higher and more enduring than love.

Dr. OeSTERMARK. H’m-so Bertha paints too. How? Well?

Axel. Fairly well.

Dr. OeSTERMARK. We were good friends in the old days, she and I,-that is, we always quarreled a little.-Some visitors. Hush! It is Carl and his wife!

Axel [Rising]. And Bertha isn’t at home! Sacristi! [Enter Lieutenant Carl Starck and his wife.] Welcome! Well, well, we certainly meet here from all corners of the world! How do you do, Mrs. Starck? You’re looking well after your journey.

Mrs. Starck. Thanks, dear Axel, we have certainly had a delightful trip.
But where is Bertha?

Carl. Yes, where is the young wife?

Axel. She’s out at the studio, but she’ll be home at any moment now. But won’t you sit down?

[The doctor greets the visitors.]

Carl. Hardly. We were passing by and thought we would just look in to see how you are. But we shall be on hand, of course, for your invitation for Saturday, the first of May.

Axel. That’s good. You got the card then?

Mrs. Starck. Yes, we received it while we were in Hamburg. Well, what is
Bertha doing nowadays?

Axel. Oh, she paints, as I do. In fact, we’re expecting her model, and as he may come at any moment, perhaps I can’t risk you to sit down after all, if I’m going to be honest.

Carl. Do you think we would blush, then?

Mrs. Starck. He isn’t nude, is he?

Axel. Of course.

Carl. A man? The devil!-No, I couldn’t allow my wife to be mixed up with anything of that sort. Alone with a naked man!

Axel. I see you still have prejudices, Carl.

Carl. Yes, you know-

Mrs. Starck. Fie!

Dr. OeSTERMARK. Yes, that’s what I say, too.

Axel. I can’t deny that it, is not altogether to my taste, but as long as I must have a woman model-

Mrs. Starck. That’s another matter.

Axel. Another?

Mrs. Starck. Yes, it is another matter-although it resembles the other, it is not the same. [There is a knock.]

Axel. There he is!

Mrs. Starck. We’ll go, then. Good-bye and au revoir. Give my love to
Bertha.

Axel. Good-bye, then, as you’re so scared. And au revoir.

Carl and Dr. OeSTERMARK. Good-bye, Axel.

Carl [To Axel]. You stay in here, at least, while-

Axel. No, why should I?

Carl [Goes shaking his head]. Ugh!

[Axel alone starts to paint. There is a knock.]

Axel. Come in. [The model enters.] So, you are back again. Madame hasn’t returned yet.

The model. But it’s almost twelve, and I must keep another appointment.

Axel. Is that so? It’s too bad, but-h’m-something must have detained her at the studio. How much do I owe you?

The model. Five francs, as usual.

Axel [Paying him]. There. Perhaps you’d better wait awhile, nevertheless.

The model. Yes, if I’m needed.

Axel. Yes, be kind enough to wait a few minutes.

[The model retires behind a screen. Axel alone, draws and whistles. Bertha comes in after a moment.]

Axel. Hello, my dear! So you’re back at last?

Bertha. At last?

Axel. Yes, your model is waiting.

Bertha [Startled]. No! No! Has he been here again?

Axel. You had engaged him for eleven o’clock.

Bertha. I? No! Did he say that?

Axel. Yes. But I heard you when you made the engagement yesterday.

Bertha. Perhaps it’s so, then, but anyway the professor wouldn’t let us leave and you know how nervous one gets in the last hours. You’re not angry with me, Axel?

Axel. Angry? No. But this is the second time, and he gets his five francs for nothing, nevertheless.

Bertha. Can I help it if the professor keeps us? Why must you always pick on me?

Axel. Do I pick on you?

Bertha. What’s that? Didn’t you-

Axel. Yes, yes, yes! I picked on you-forgive me-forgive me-for thinking that it was your fault.

Bertha. Well, it’s all right there. But what did you pay him with?

Axel. To be sure. Gaga paid back the twenty francs he owed me.

Bertha [Takes out account-book.] So, he paid you back? Come on, then, and I’ll put it down, for the sake of order. It’s your money, so of course you can dispose of it as you please, but as you wish me to take care of the accounts-[Writes] fifteen francs in, five francs out, model. There.

Axel. No. Look here. It’s twenty francs in.

Bertha. Yes, but there are only fifteen here.

Axel. Yes, but you should put down twenty.

Bertha. Why do you argue?

Axel. Did I-Well, the man’s waiting-

Bertha. Oh, yes. Be good and get things ready for me.

Axel. [Puts model stand in place. Calls to model]. Are you undressed yet?

The model [From back of screen]. Soon, monsieur.

Bertha [Closes door, puts wood in stove]. There, now you must go out.

Axel [Hesitating]. Bertha!

Bertha. Yes?

Axel. Is it absolutely necessary-with a nude model?

Bertha. Absolutely!

Axel. H’m-indeed!

Bertha. We have certainly argued that matter out.

Axel. Quite true. But it’s loathsome nevertheless-[Goes out right.]

Bertha [Takes up brushes and palette. Calls to model]. Are you ready?

The model. All ready.

Bertha. Come on, then. [Pause.] Come on. [There is a knock.] Who is it?
I have a model.

Willmer [Outside]. Willmer. With news from the salon.

Bertha. From the salon! [To model]. Dress yourself! We’ll have to postpone the sitting.-Axel! Willmer is here with news from the salon.

[Axel comes in, also Willmer; the model goes out unnoticed during the following scene.]

Wilmer. Hello, dear friends! Tomorrow the jury will begin its work. Oh,
Bertha, here are your pastels. [Takes package from pocket.]

Bertha. Thanks, my good Gaga; how much did they cost? They must have been expensive.

Willmer. Oh, not very.

Bertha. So they are to start tomorrow. So soon? Do you hear, Axel?

Axel. Yes, my friend.

Bertha. Now, will you be very good, very, very good?

Axel. I always want to be good to you, my friend.

Bertha. You do? Now, listen. You know Roubey, don’t you?

Axel. Yes, I met him in Vienna mid we became good friends, as it’s called.

Bertha. You know that he is on the jury?

Axel. And then what?

Bertha. Well-now you’ll be angry, I know you will.

Axel. You know it? Don’t prove it, then.

Bertha [Coaxing]. You wouldn’t make a sacrifice for your wife, would you?

Axel. Go begging? No, I don’t want to do that.

Bertha. Not for me? You’ll get in anyway, but for your wife!

Axel. Don’t ask me.

Bertha. I should really never ask you for anything!

Axel. Yes, for things that I can do without sacrificing-

Bertha. Your man’s pride!

Axel. Let it go at that.

Bertha. But I would sacrifice my woman’s pride if I could help you.

Axel. You women have no pride.

Bertha. Axel!

Axel. Well, well, pardon, pardon!

Bertha. You must be jealous. I don’t believe you would really like it if
I were accepted at the salon.

Axel. Nothing would make me happier. Believe me, Bertha.

Bertha. Would you be happy, too, if I were accepted and you were refused?

Axel. I must feel and see. [Puts his hand over his heart.] No, that would be decidedly disagreeable, decidedly. In the first place, because I paint better than you do, and because-

Bertha [Walking up and down]. Speak out. Because I am a woman!

Axel. Yes, just that. It may seem strange, but to me it’s as if you women were intruding and plundering where we have fought for so long while you sat by the fire. Forgive me, Bertha, for talking like this, but such thoughts have occurred to me.

Bertha. Has it ever occurred to you that you’re exactly like all other men?

Axel. Like all others? I should hope so!

Bertha. And you have become so superior lately. You didn’t use to be like that.

Axel. It must be because I am superior! Doing something that we men have never done before!

Bertha. What! What are you saving! Shame on you!

Willmer. There, there, good friends! No, but, dear friends-Bertha, control yourself.

[He gives her a look which she tries to make out.]

Bertha [Changing]. Axel, let’s be friends! And hear me a moment. Do you think that my position in your house-for it is yours-is agreeable to me? You support me, you pay for my studying at Julian’s, while you yourself cannot afford instruction. Don’t you think I see how you sit and wear out yourself and your talent on these pot-boiling drawings, and are able to paint only in leisure moments? You haven’t been able to afford models for yourself, while you pay mine five hard-earned francs an hour. You don’t know how good-how noble-how sacrificing you are, and also you don’t know how I suffer to see you toil so for me. Oh, Axel, you can’t know how I feel my position. What am I to you? Of what use am I in your house? Oh, I blush when I think about it!

Axel. What, what, what! Aren’t you my wife?

Bertha. Yes, but-

Axel. Well, then?

Bertha. But you support me.

Axel. Well, isn’t that the right thing to do?

Bertha. It was formerly-according to the old scheme of marriage, but we weren’t to have it like that. We were to be comrades.

Axel. What talk! Isn’t a man to support his wife?

Bertha. I don’t want it. And you, Axel, you must help me. I’m not your equal when it’s like that, but I could be if you would humble yourself once, just once! Don’t think that you are alone in going to one of the jury to say a good word for another. If it were for yourself, it would be another matter, but for me-Forgive me! Now I beg of you as nicely as I know how. Lift me from my humiliating position to your side, and I’ll be so grateful I shall never trouble you again with reminding you of my position. Never, Axel!

Axel. Don’t ask me; you know how weak I am.

Bertha [Embracing him].Yes, I shall ask you-beg of you, until you fulfil my prayer. Now, don’t look so proud, but be human! So! [Kisses him.]

Axel [To Willmer]. Look here, Gaga, don’t you think that women are terrible tyrants?

Willmer [Pained]. Yes, and especially when they are submissive.

Bertha. See, now, the sky is clear again. You’ll go, won’t you, Axel? Get on your black coat now, and go. Then come home, and we’ll strike out together for something to eat.

Axel. How do you know that Roubey is receiving now?

Bertha. Don’t you think that I made sure of that?

Axel. What a schemer you are!

Bertha [Takes a black cutaway coat from wardrobe]. Well, one would never get anywhere without a little wire-pulling, you know. Here’s your black coat. So!

Axel. Yes. But this is awful. What am I to say to the man?

Bertha. H’m. Oh, you’ll hit, on something on the way. Say
that-that-that your wife-no-that you’re expecting a christening-

Axel. Fie, Bertha.

Bertha. Well, say that you can get him decorated, then.

Axel. Really you frighten me, Bertha!

Bertha. Say what you please, then. Come, now, and I’ll fix your hair so you’ll be presentable. Do you know his wife?

Axel. No, not at all.

Bertha [Brushing his hair]. Then you must get an introduction to her. I understand that she has great influence, but that she doesn’t like women.

Axel. What are you doing to my hair?

Bertha. I am fixing it as they are wearing it now.

Axel. Yes, but I don’t want it that way.

Bertha. Now then-that’s fine. Just mind me. [She goes to chiffonier and takes out a case which contains a Russian Annae order. She tries to put it in Axel’s buttonhole.]

Axel. No, Bertha. You’ve gone far enough now. I won’t wear that decoration.

Bertha. But you accepted it.

Axel. Yes, because I couldn’t decline it. But I’ll never wear it.

Bertha. Do you belong to some political party that is so liberal-minded as to suppress individual freedom to accept distinctions?

Axel. No, I don’t. But I belong to a circle of comrades who have promised each other not to wear their merit on their coats.

Bertha. But who have accepted salon medals!

Axel. Which are not worn on their coats.

Bertha. What do you say to this, Gaga?

Willmer. As long as distinctions exist, one does one’s self harm to go about with the mark of infamy, and the example no one is likely to follow. Take them away for all of me-I certainly can’t get them away from the others.

Axel. Yes, and when my comrades who are more deserving than I do not wear them, I would lower them by wearing the emblem.

Bertha. But it doesn’t show under your overcoat. No one will know, and you won’t brand any one.

Willmer. Bertha is right there. You’ll wear your order under your coat, not on your coat.

Axel. Jesuits! When you are given a finger, you take the whole arm.

[Abel comes in wearing fur coat and cap.]

Bertha. Oh, here’s Abel! Come on, now, and settle this controversy.

Abel. Hello, Bertha! Hello, Axel! How are you, Gaga? What’s the matter?

Bertha. Axel doesn’t want to wear his order, because he daren’t on account of his comrades.

Abel. Comrades come before a wife, of course-that’s an unwritten law. [She sits by table, takes up tobacco and rolls a cigarette.]

Bertha [Fastens ribbon in Axel’s buttonhole and puts the star back in case] He can help me without hurting any one, but I fear he would rather hurt me!

Axel. Bertha, Bertha! But you people will drive me mad! I don’t consider it a crime to wear this ribbon, nor have I taken any oath that I wouldn’t do so, but at our exhibitions it’s considered cowardly not to dare to make one’s way without them.

Bertha. Cowardly, of course! But you’re not going to take your own course this time-but mine!

Abel. You owe it to the woman who has consecrated her life to you to be her delegate.

Axel. I feel that what you people are saying is false, but I haven’t the time or energy to answer you now; but there is an answer! It’s as if you were drawing a net about me while I sit absorbed in my work. I can feel the net winding about me, but my foot gets entangled when I want to kick it aside. But, you wait, if only I free my hands, I’ll get out my knife and cut the meshes of your net! What were we talking about? Oh, yes, I was going to make a call. Give me my gloves and my overcoat. Good-bye, Bertha! Good-bye. Oh, yes,-where does Roubey live?

Willmer, Abel and Bertha [In unison]. Sixty-five Rue des Martyrs.

Axel. Why, that’s right near here!

Bertha. Just at the corner. Thanks, Axel, for going. Does the sacrifice feel very heavy?

Axel. I can’t feel anything but that I am tired of all this talk and that it will be delightful to get out. Good-bye. [Goes out.]

Abel. It’s too bad about Axel. It’s a pity. Did you know that he is refused?

Bertha. And I, then?

Abel. That’s not settled yet. As you wrote your own name with French spelling, you won’t be reached until O.

Bertha. There’s still hope for me?

Abel. Yes, for you, but not for Axel.

Willmer. Now, we’ll see something!

Bertha. How do you know that he is refused?

Abel. H’m, I met a “hors concours” who knew, and I was quite prepared to witness a scene when I came in here. But of course he hasn’t received the notice yet.

Bertha. No, not that I know of. But, Abel, are you sure that Axel will meet Madame Roubey and not Monsieur?

Abel. What should he see Monsieur Roubey for? He hasn’t any say about it, but she is president of the Woman-Painters Protective Society.

Bertha. And I am not refused-yet?

Abel. No, as I said, and Axel’s call is bound to do good. He has a Russian order, and everything Russian is very popular in Paris just now. But it’s too had about Axel just the same.

Bertha. Too bad? Why? They haven’t room for everybody on the salon walls. There are so many women refused that a man might put up with it and be made to feel it for once. But if I get in now-we’ll soon hear how he painted my picture, how he has taught me, how he has paid for my lessons. But I shall not take any notice of that, because it isn’t true.

Willmer. Well, we’re bound to see something unusual happen now.

Bertha. No, I believe-granted that I am not refused-that we’ll see something very usual. But nevertheless I’m afraid of the actual moment. Something tells me that things won’t be right between Axel and me again.

Abel. And it was just when you were equals that things were going to be right.

Willmer. It seems to me that your position will be much more clearly defined and much pleasanter when you can sell your pictures and support yourself.

Bertha. It should be! We’ll see-we’ll see! [The maid enters with a green letter.] A green letter for Axel! Here it is! Here it is! He is refused! Yes, but this is terrible; however, it will be a consolation to me if I should be refused.

Abel. But if you are not refused?

Bertha [Pause].

Abel. You won’t answer that?

Bertha. No, I won’t answer that.

Abel. Because, if you are accepted, the equality will be destroyed, as you will be his superior.

Bertha. Superior? A wife superior to her husband-her husband-oh!

Willmer. It’s about time an example was made.

Abel [To Bertha]. You were at the luncheon today? Was it interesting?

Bertha. Oh, yes.

Willmer. When are you going to review my book, Abel?

Abel. I’m just working on it.

Willmer. Are you going to be nice to me?

Abel. Very nice.-Well, Bertha, how and when will you deliver the letter?

Bertha [Walking about]. That is just, what I am thinking about. If he hasn’t met Madame Roubey, and if he hasn’t carried out our plan, he will hardly do it after receiving this blow.

Abel [Rising]. I don’t think Axel is so base as to revenge himself on you.

Bertha. Base? Such talk! Didn’t he go just now when I wanted him to, because I am his wife? Do you think he would ever have gone for any one else?

Abel. Would you like it if he had done it for some one else?

Bertha. Good-bye to you-you must go now, before he returns!

Abel. That’s what I think. Good bye, Bertha.

Willmer. Yes, we had better get away. Goodbye for now.

[The maid enters and announces Mrs. Hall.]

Bertha. Who? Mrs. Hall? Who can that be?

Abel and Willmer. Good-bye, Bertha.

[They go out. Mrs. Hall comes in. She is flashily though carelessly dressed. She looks like an adventuress.]

Mrs. Hall. I don’t know that I have the honor to be known to you, but you are Mrs. Alberg, nee Alund, are you not?

Bertha. Yes, I’m Mrs. Alberg. Won’t you sit down?

Mrs. Hall. My name is Hall. [Sits.] Oh, my lord, but I’m so tired! I have walked up so many stairs-oh-ho-ho-ho, I believe I’ll faint!

Bertha. How can I be of service to you?

Mrs. Hall. You know Doctor Oestermark, don’t you?

Bertha. Yes, he’s an old friend of mine.

Mrs. Hall. An old friend. Well, you see, dear Mrs. Alberg, I was married to him once, but we separated. I am his divorced wife.

Bertha. Oh! He has never told me about that.

Mrs. Hall. Oh, people don’t tell such things.

Bertha. He told me he was a widower.

Mrs. Hall. Well, you were a young girl then, and I suppose he isn’t so anxious to have it known anyway.

Bertha. And I who have always believed that Doctor Oestermark was an honorable man!

Mrs. Hall [Sarcastic]. Yes, he’s a good one! He is a real gentleman, I must say.

Bertha. Well, but why do you tell me all this?

Mrs. Hall. Just wait, my dear Mrs. Alberg wait and you shall hear. You area member of the society, aren’t you?

Bertha. Yes, I am.

Mrs. Hall. Just so; only wait now.

Bertha. Did you have any children?

Mrs. Hall. Two-two daughters, Mrs. Alberg.

Bertha. That’s another matter! And he left you in want?

Mrs. Hall. Just wait now! He gave us a small allowance, not enough for the rent even. And now that the girls are grown up and about to start in life, now he writes us that he is a bankrupt and that he can’t send us more than half the allowance. Isn’t that nice, just now, when the girls are grown up and are going out into life?

Bertha. We must look into this. He’ll be here in a few days. Do you know that you have the law on your side and that the courts can force him to pay? And he shall be forced to do so. Do you understand? So, he can bring children into the world and then leave them empty-handed with the poor, deserted mother. Oh, he’ll find out something very different! Will you give my your address?

Mrs. Hall [Gives her card]. You are so good, Mrs. Alberg. And you won’t be vexed with me if I ask a little favor of you?

Bertha. You can depend on me entirely. I shall write the secretary immediately-

Mrs. Hall. Oh, you’re so good, but before the secretary can answer, I and my poor children will probably be thrown out into the street. Dear Mrs. Alberg, you couldn’t lend me a trifle-just wait-a trifle of twenty francs?

Bertha. No, dear lady, I haven’t any money. My husband supports me for the time being, and you may be sure that I’m reminded of the fact. It’s bitter to eat the bread of charity when one is young, but better times are coming for me too.

Mrs. Hall. My dear, good Mrs. Alberg, you must not refuse me. If you do, I am a lost woman. Help me, for heaven’s sake.

Bertha. Are you terribly in need?

Mrs. Hall. And you ask me that!

Bertha. I’ll let you have this money as a loan. [She goes to chiffonier.] Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty-lacking twenty. What did I do with it? H’m, luncheon, of course! [She writes in account-book.] Paints twenty, incidentals twenty-there you are.

Mrs. Hall. Thank you, my good Mrs. Alberg, thanks, dear lady.

Bertha. There, there. But I can’t give you any more time today. So, good-bye, and depend on me.

Mrs. Hall [Uncertain]. Just a moment now.

Bertha [Listening without]. No, you must go now.

Mrs. Hall. Just a moment. What was I going to say?-Well, it doesn’t matter.

[Goes out. Bertha is alone for a moment, when she hears Axel coming. She hides the green letter in her pocket.]

Bertha. Back already? Well, did you meet her-him?

Axel. I didn’t meet him, but her, which was much better. I congratulate you, Bertha. Your picture is already accepted!

Bertha. Oh, no! What are you saying? And yours?

Axel. It isn’t decided yet-but it will surely go through, too.

Bertha. Are you sure of that?

Axel. Of course-

Bertha. Oh, I’m accepted! Good, how good! But why don’t you congratulate me?

Axel. Haven’t I? I’m quite sure that I said, “I congratulate you!” For that matter, one mustn’t sell the skin before the bear is killed. To get into the salon isn’t anything. It’s just a toss-up. It can even depend on what letter one’s name begins with. You come in O, as you spelled your name in French. When the lettering starts with M it’s always easier.

Bertha. So, you wish to say that perhaps I got in because my name begins with O?

Axel. Not on account of that alone.

Bertha. And if you are refused, it’s because your name begins with A.

Axel. Not exactly that alone, but it might be on that account.

Bertha. Look here, I don’t think you’re as honorable as you would seem.
You are jealous.

Axel. Why should I be, when I don’t know what has happened to me yet?

Bertha. But when you do know?

Axel. What? [Bertha takes out letter. Axel puts his hand to his heart and sits in a chair.] What! [Controls himself.] That was a blow I had not expected. That was most disagreeable!

Bertha. Well, I suppose I’ll have to help you now.

Axel, You seem to be filled with malicious delight, Bertha. Oh, I feel that a great hate is beginning to grow in here. [Indicating his breast.]

Bertha. Perhaps I look delighted because I’ve had a success, but when one is tied to a man who cannot rejoice in another’s good fortune, it’s difficult to sympathize with his misfortune.

Axel. I don’t know why, but it seems as if we had become enemies now. The strife of position has come between us, and we can never be friends any more.

Bertha. Can’t your sense of justice bend and recognize me as the abler, the victorious one in the strife?

Axel. You are not the abler.

Bertha. The jury must have thought so, however.

Axel. But surely you know that I paint better than you do.

Bertha. Are you so sure of that?

Axel. Yes, I am. But for that matter-you worked under better conditions than I. You didn’t have to do any pot-boiling, you could go to the studio, you had models, and you were a woman!

Bertha. Yes, now I’ll hear how I have lived on you-

Axel. Between ourselves, yes, but the world won’t know unless you go and tell it yourself.

Bertha. Oh, the world knows that already. But tell me, why don’t you suffer when a comrade, a man comrade, is accepted, although he has less merit than you?

Axel. I’ll have to think about that. You see our feeling toward you women has never been critical-we’ve taken you as a matter of course, and so I’ve never thought about our relations as against each other. Now when the shoe pinches, it strikes me that we are not comrades, for this experience makes me feel that you women do not belong here. [Indicating the studio.] A comrade is a more or less loyal competitor; we are enemies. You women have been lying down in the rear while we attacked the enemy. And now, when we have set and supplied the table, you pounce down upon it as if you were in your own home!

Bertha. Oh, fie, have we ever been allowed in the conflict?

Axel. You have always been allowed, but you have never wanted to take part, or haven’t been able to do so in our domain, where you are now breaking in. Technic had to be put through its whole development and completion by us before you entered. And now you buy the centurions’ work for ten francs an hour in a studio, and with money that we have acquired by our work.

Bertha. You are not honorable now, Axel.

Axel. When was I honorable? When I allowed you to use me like an old shoe? But now you are my superior-and now I can’t strive to be honorable any longer. Do you know that this adversity will also change our economic relations? I cannot think of painting any more, but must give up my life’s dream and become a pot-boiler in earnest.

Bertha. You needn’t do that; when I can sell, I will support myself.

Axel. For that matter, what sort of an alliance have we gone into? Marriage should be built on common interests; ours is built on opposing interests.

Bertha. You can work all that out by yourself; I’m going out for dinner now,-are you coming?

Axel. No, I want to be alone with my unhappiness.

Bertha. And I want company for my happiness.-But we have invited people to come here for the evening-that won’t do now, with your misery, will it?

Axel. It isn’t a very brilliant prospect, but there’s no way out. Let them come.

Bertha [Dressing to go out]. But you must be here, or it will look as if you were cowardly.

Axel. I’ll be with you, don’t worry-but give me a bit of money before you go.

Bertha. We’ve reached the end of our cash.

Axel. The end?

Bertha. Yes, money comes to an end too!

Axel. Can you lend me ten francs?

Bertha [Taking out pocketbook]. Ten francs? Yes, indeed, if I have it. Here you are. Won’t you come along? Tell me. They’ll think it rather strange!

Axel. And play the defeated lion before the triumphant chariot? No, indeed, I’ll need my time to learn my part for this evening’s performance.

Bertha. Good-bye then.

Axel. Good-bye, Bertha. Let me ask you one thing.

Bertha. What then?

Axel. Don’t come home intoxicated. It would be more disagreeable today than ever.

Bertha. Does it concern you how I come home?

Axel. Well, I feel sort of responsible for you, as for a relative, considering that you bear the same name that I do, and besides, it is still disgusting to me to see a woman intoxicated.

Bertha. Why is it any more disgusting than to see a man intoxicated?

Axel. Yes, why? Perhaps because you don’t bear being seen without a disguise.

Bertha [Starting]. Good-bye, you old talking-machine. You won’t come along?

Axel. No!

[Bertha goes out; Axel rises, takes off his cutaway to change it for working coat.]

Curtain.