t
breathe.

MOTHER. We must try to get rid of him. I'm certain he won't care to stay
for long.

OLD MAN. No. He won't grow old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a letter
to-night warning me about him. Among other things he's wanted by the
courts.

MOTHER. The courts?

OLD MAN. Yes. Money matters. But, remember, the laws of hospitality
protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days, till he's got over
this fearful journey. You can see how Providence has laid hands on him,
how his soul is being ground in the mill ready for the sieve....

MOTHER. I've felt a call to be a tool in the hands of Providence.

OLD MAN. Don't confuse it with your wish for vengeance.

MOTHER. I'll try not to, if I can.

OLD MAN. Well, good-night.

MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his last book?

OLD MAN. It's unlikely. If she had she'd never have married a man who
held such views.

MOTHER. No, she's not read it. But now she must.

SCENE VIII

THE 'ROSE' ROOM

[A simple, pleasantly furnished room in the forester's house. The walls
are colour-washed in red; the curtains are of thin rose-coloured
muslin. In the small latticed windows there are flowers. On right, a
writing-table and bookshelf. Left, a sofa with rose-coloured curtains
above in the form of a baldachino. Tables and chairs in Old German
style. At the back, a door. Outside the country can be seen and the
poorhouse, a dark, unpleasant building with black, uncurtained windows.
Strong sunlight. The LADY is sitting on the sofa working.]

MOTHER (standing with a book bound in rose-coloured cloth in her hand.)
You won't read your husband's book?

LADY. Not that one. I promised not to.

MOTHER. You don't want to know the man to whom you've entrusted your
fate?

LADY. What would be the use? We're all right as we are.

MOTHER. You make no great demands on life?

LADY. Why should I? They'd never be fulfilled.

MOTHER. I don't know whether you were born full of worldly wisdom, or
foolishness.

LADY. I don't know myself.

MOTHER. If the sun shines and you've enough to eat, you're content.

LADY. Yes. And when it goes in, I make the best of it.

MOTHER. To change the subject: did you know your husband was being
pressed by the courts on account of his debts?

LADY. Yes. It happens to all writers.

MOTHER. Is he mad, or a rascal?

LADY. He's neither. He's no ordinary man; and it's a pity I can tell
him nothing he doesn't know already. That's why we don't sp