Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Nr. 14. 4. Januar 1885 - Benzon, Otto. From »A regular scandal« Translated by Robert Wintle
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X r. 18.
HJEMME OG UDE.
186
Fanny.
No there’s not. But for all that, one can otten find these
short dances very tcdious. Just as onc has reached that point
where llie conversation begins to get a little more — interesting,
you know — ihen the inusic stops suddenly, and one gets a new
partner, arni has to begin again from the beginning about the
weather and the theatres and so on. Ugh! «oes to the piano). No, 1
cenainly prefer a masquerade-ball i’plays a sraltz aoftly).
Karen.
You don’t seem to be able to forget that masquerade ball.
Fanny.
Oh! I enjoyed mvself so thoroughly. 1 After a little pausej Tell
me. Karen, have you ever been in love?
Karen.
I?
Fanny.
Yes, — you have of course.
Karen.
Why do you think so?
Fanny.
Oh! I suppose, that even- body is attacked by that weakness,
when they reach a certain age. (Turns mind on the piano-stool) Do
you know what stands in a book I read the other day? »It is
first throngh love for a man. that woman learns to know herself«.
Do you think there is any sense in that?
Karen.
Well, I scarcely know. It may be quite as often the fault of
love, that she is mistaken in herself, as that she learns to know
herself. And it can also be the reason why she docs not learn
to know him.
Fanny.
\Yhat Jo you mean by that? One can’t surely fall in love
with a inan that one doesn’t know.
Karen.
Yes ihat is just exactly what one can.
Fanny.
Well — perhaps so, in a way. To know is certainly an
elastic expression.
Karen.
And when one then sees, that one has been mis—taken–
Fanny.
Yes, but why sliould one be mistaken?
Karen.
Oh, that verv easily happens, when one is young and full of
confidence. A man’s mere outward appearance and bearing have a
great power over us.
Fanny.
Yes, but I would never let tnyself be conqucred by mere
outward attractions alone. To be able to love a man, I must also be
able to see up to him; he must be in pos session of all the good
qualities that — — — — —
Karen.
That you claim of your ideal, and which you therefore ascribe
to him. if lie hasn’t them, or at any rate acts as if he had tliem.
Fanny.
Acts as if–— —?
Karen.
Yes, people do not willingly show themselves as they really
are, when it is in their interests to show themselves otherwise.
And that it is, but far too often.
Fanny.
\ es, but one doesn’t go and get engaged to a man before one
knows him.
- Karen.
Not before one thinks one knows him. And if one then, after
håving bound oneself — sees, that one has been mistaken?
Fanny.
Then onc breaks off the match. That is what 1 would do.
I would never marry a man whom I could not respect.
ACT II. SCENE IX.
THE COUNSELLOR AND ARTHUR.
Arthur (without looking np from his newspaper).
Maternal love is a beautiful sentiment; so free from vanity
or egoism.
The Counsellor.
Well, you are sitting there, are you. I thought I tnight be
pretty sure of finding you here. l’ve been looking for you up in
the ofTice.
Arthur.
Why did you look for me in the office, when you thought
that you would sure enough find tnc here?
The Counsellor.
Because it was nevertheless possible that you mighl for once
be, where you ought to be.
Arthur.
Yes it really happens now and then.
The Counsellor.
Yes, now and then. But generally you are where you ought
not to be.
Arthur.
Is not the bosom of one’s family the place where a young
unprotected fellow ought to be.
Thf. Counsellor.
Oh! Fiddlestick with your family’s bosom. The society that
you usually patronize is none of the best.
Arthur.
The best — no, I won’t go so far as to assert so much. But
one must not be too difficult to please — otherwise one gets so
easily disappointed.
The Counsellor.
But one can also be too modest in one’s pretensions, and that
I am afraid you are.
Arthur.
Modesty is the most beautiful virtue of youth.
The Counsellor.
Virtue! Yes, dilate upon virtue — it becomes you so well.
Arthur.
(Pats familiarly the Counsellor an his hack and stomach at the same time).
Well my dear Counsellor, what is it that you have on your
mind? For I feel sure that there is something that is worrying
you. Come, unbosom yourself like a man.
Tiie Counsellor.
May I beg you to desist in this unseemly familiarity.
Arthur.
I had never thought that fami’.iarity between father and son
was unseemly.
The Counsellor
(draws himsclf up with a ser kms look, exactly opposite Arthuri.
What kind of company is that, you are keeping?
Arthur.
\Yhat kind of company? It is composed of young men of
the best — — —
Thf. Counsellor.
I ain not speaking of young men. Perhaps, however, you mean
to say that you only associatc with young men?
Arthur.
Yes, of course.
The Counsellor.
Yes, of course. I lm! (Suddcnly «tretchcs the letter he has hmd in his
hand all thc time, out towards Arthur). You don’t perhaps know a young
man of the natne of — Theodora?
Arthur (is on Ule point of bursting out into lattghtcr.)
The Counsellor.
Eh? Eh ?
Arthur.
Don’t you think it is more probably a lady?
The Counsellor.
It is no lady.
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