Three Dramas by Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne, 1832-1910

The King. I shall certainly set to work and abuse you at once, if it has such delightful results! I will begin with a selection from to-day's papers: "You Aspasia! You Messalina! You Pompadour! You Phylloxera, that are eating into our whole moral vine-crop! You blue-eyed curse of the country, that are causing panics in the money-market, overthrowing ministries, and upsetting all calculations in the elections! You mischievous hobgoblin, who are pouring gall into the printers' ink and poison into the people's coffee, filling all the old ladies' heads with buzzing flies, and the King's Majesty with a million lover's follies!" Do you know that, besides all the harm you are doing to-day, you are hastening a revolution by ten years? You are! And no one can be sure whether you haven't been pursuing the same wicked courses for the last hundred years or more! All our royal and noble ancestors are turning in their graves because of you! And if our deceased queens have any noses left--

Clara (interrupting him). The Baroness! (They get up. The BARONESS comes in wearing a cloak over her court dress and carrying CLARA'S cloak over her arm.)

Baroness. I must take the liberty of disturbing you. Time is up!

The King. We have been killing it by talking nonsense.

Baroness. And that has put you in a good humour?

The King (taking his hat). In the best of humours! Here, my darling (fastens CLARA'S cloak about her shoulders), here is the last scandalous bit of concealment for you! When we take it off again, you shall stand radiant in the light of your own truth. Come! (Gives her his arm, and they go trippingly up to the back of the room. Suddenly the phantom of an emaciated figure leaning on crutches appears in their path, staring at them. His hair and beard are in wild disorder, and blood is pouring from his mouth. CLARA gives a terrified scream.)

The King. In Heaven's name, what is it?

Clara. My father!

The King. Where? (To the BARONESS.) Go and see! (The BARONESS opens the doors at the back and looks out).

Baroness. I can see no one.

The King. Look down the corridor!

Baroness. No--no one there, either! (CLARA has sunk lifelessly into the KING'S arms. After one or two spasmodic twitchings of her hands, her arms slip away from him and her head falls back.)

The King. Help, help!

The Baroness (rushing to him with a shriek). Clara!

Curtain.

ACT IV

(SCENE.--A room in GRAN's house; the same as in Act I, Scene II. GRAN is standing at his desk on the right. FLINK comes in carrying a pistol-case, which he puts down upon the table.)

Gran. You?

Flink. As you see. (Walks up and down for a little without speaking.)

Gran. I haven't seen you since the day the King was here.

Flink. No.--Have you taken your holidays?

Gran. Yes; but, anyway, I am likely to have perpetual holidays now! The elections are going against us.

Flink (walking about). So I hear. The clerical party and the reactionaries are winning.

Gran. That would not have been so, but for her unhappy death--. (Breaks off, and sighs.)

Flink. A judgment from heaven--that is what the parsons say, and the women, and the reactionaries--

Gran. --and the landlords. And they really believe it.

Flink (stopping). Well, don't you believe it?

Gran (after a pause). At all events I interpret it differently from--