Three Comedies

Leonarda. I made haste to come to you, before she should know anything about it. I have brought your letter with me. Take it back, my lord! (Searches in her pocket for the letter.)

Bishop (noticing her growing anxiety). What is wrong?

Leonarda. The letter!—I laid it on my desk while I dressed to come out, meaning to bring it with me—but in my hurry and anxiety I have forgotten it! And now Aagot is making out accounts at that very desk. If she sees your handwriting she will suspect something at once, because of course we have been expecting you every day.

Bishop. Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done?

Leonarda. Indeed there is. When she comes here—for she will understand everything and come straight here—could not your lordship meet her yourself, and say to her—. (Stops short.)

Bishop. Say what?

Leonarda. "I have been mistaken. People should be judged, not by their mistakes, but by what they have achieved; not by their beliefs, but by their efforts towards goodness and truth. I mean to teach my congregation that lesson by calling upon your aunt next Sunday." (The GRANDMOTHER nods at her approvingly. LEONARDA sees this, takes her hand, and turns again towards the BISHOP.) This venerable lady pleads for me too. She belongs to a day that was more tolerant than ours—at all events than ours is in this little out-of-the-way place. All the wisdom of her long life is summed up in these two words: Have forbearance!

Bishop. There is one kind of forbearance, Mrs. Falk, that is forbidden us—the forbearance that would efface the distinction between good and evil. That is what the "toleration" of my grandmother's day meant; but it is not an example to be followed.

Leonarda (leaving the GRANDMOTHER's side). If I have erred—if I seem of no account, from the lofty standpoint from which you look upon life—remember that you serve One who was the friend of sinners.

Bishop. I will be your friend when I see you seeking your soul's salvation. I will do all I can then.

Leonarda. Help me to expiate my past! That means everything to me—and is not much for you to do. I only ask for a little show of courtesy, instead of indignities! I will contrive that we shall seldom meet. Only don't drive me away—because that means exposing me to contempt. Believe me, I will give you no cause for shame; and your good deed will be rewarded by the gratitude of the young people.

Bishop. I am deeply distressed at having to take up this attitude towards you. You are bound to think me hardhearted; but that is not the case. I have to consider that I am the guardian of thousands of anxious consciences. I dare not for my nephew's sake offend the respect they feel for me, the trust they put in me; nor dare I disregard the law we all must follow. For a bishop to do as I have done in opening my doors to your niece, is in itself no small thing, when you consider the dissensions that are going on in the Church nowadays. I cannot, I dare not, go farther and open my doors to a woman whom my whole congregation—albeit unjustly—well, I won't wound your feelings by going on.

Leonarda. Really?

Bishop. Believe me, it gives me great pain. You have made a remarkable impression upon me personally. (Meanwhile the GRANDMOTHER has got up to go out of the room.)

Leonarda. Are you going away? (The BISHOP goes to the wall and rings a bell.)

Grandmother. Yes—I am too old for these scenes. And, after what I have just heard, I am sure I have no right to sit here either. (CORNELIA comes in, takes her arm, and assists her out.)

Leonarda (coming forward). Now I can say this to your lordship: you have no courage. Standing face to face with me here, you know what you ought to do, but dare not do it.

Bishop. You are a woman—so I will not answer.

Leonarda. It is because I am a woman that you have said things to me to-day that you would not have said to—to General Rosen, for instance—a man who is allowed to come to your lordship's house in spite of his past life, and his present life too.

Bishop. He shall come here no more in future. Beside, you cannot deny that there is a difference between your two cases.

Leonarda. There is indeed a difference: but I did not expect the distinction to be made on these lines. Nor did I imagine, my lord, that your duty was to protect, not the weaker vessel, but the stronger—to countenance open vice, and refuse help to those who are unjustly accused!

Bishop. Do you think there is any use in our prolonging this conversation?

[AAGOT opens the door at the back and calls from the doorway.]

Aagot. Aunt!

Leonarda. Aagot! Good heavens!

Aagot (coming forward). Aunt!

Leonarda. Then you know? (AAGOT throws herself into her arms.) My child!

Aagot. I felt sure you would be here, heaven help me!

Leonarda. Control yourself, my child!

Aagot. No, I cannot. This is too much.

Bishop. Would you ladies rather be alone?

Aagot. Where is Hagbart?

Bishop. He has gone out for a walk.

Aagot. It makes me boil with rage! So this was to be the price of my being received into your family—that I was to sell the one who has been a mother to me! Sell her, whom I love and honour more than all the world!

Bishop. Mrs. Falk, do you wish to continue?—or—

Aagot. Continue what? Your negotiations for the sale of my dear one? No. And if it were a question of being admitted to heaven without her, I should refuse!

Bishop. Child! Child!

Aagot. You must let me speak! I must say what is in my heart. And this, at any rate, is in it—that I hold fast to those I love, with all the strength that is in my being!

Bishop. You are young, and speak with the exaggeration of youth. But I think we should do better to put an end to this interview; it can lead to nothing.

Leonarda. Let us go.

[HAGBART appears at the door.]

Aagot (seeing him before the others). Hagbart!

Hagbart. I heard your voice from outside. Mrs. Falk—

Aagot. Hagbart! (She goes towards him, but as he hastens to her side she draws back.) No—don't touch me!

Hagbart. But, Aagot—?

Aagot. Why did you not manage to prevent this? You never said a word to me about it!

Hagbart. Because really I knew nothing about it.

Aagot. One becomes conscious of such things as that without needing to be told. It hasn't weighed much on your mind!—Did you not know of it just now?

Hagbart. Yes, but—

Aagot. And you didn't fly to tell us?