d you never wrote us a single word about this, Laura?

Mathilde. It is not only this room, but the whole house is arranged like
yours as far as possible.

Mother. The whole house! Is it possible!

Father. It is the most charming way of giving pleasure to a young wife
that I ever heard of!

Mother. I am so astonished, Laura, at your never having mentioned a word
of all this in your letters.

Father. Never a word of it!

Mother. Hadn't you noticed it?

Father. Ah, well--what one sees every day, one is apt to think every one
knows all about--isn't that it, little girl? That is the explanation,
isn't it?

Mother. And Axel has given you all this by his own exertions! Aren't you
proud of that?

Father (clapping her on the back). Of course she is, but it was never
Laura's way to say much about her feelings; although this is really
something so--

Mother (laughing). Her letters lately have been nothing but
dissertations upon love.

Laura. Mother--!

Mother. Oh, I am going to tell! But you have a good husband, Laura.

Laura. Mother--!

Mother (in a lower voice). You have paid him some little attentions in
return, of course?--given him something, or--

Father (pushing in between them). Worked something for him, eh?

(MATHILDE, in the meantime, has brought in wine and filled some
glasses.)

Axel. Now, a glass of wine to welcome you--sherry, your favourite wine,
sir.

Mother. He remembers that! (They each take a glass in their hands.)

Axel. Laura and I bid you heartily welcome here in our house! And we
hope you will find everything here--(with emotion) just as you would
wish it. I will do my best that you shall, and I am sure Laura will too.

Mother. Of course she will!--Drink his health! (AXEL touches her glass
with his; her hand trembles, and she spills come wine.) You have filled
the glasses too full, my dear! (They all clink glasses and drink.)

Father (when the glasses have been filled again). My wife and I--thank
you very much for your welcome. We could not set out on our journey
without first seeing our child--our two children. A good friend of ours
(looking at MATHILDE) advised us to come unexpectedly. At first we
did not want to but now we are glad we did; because now we can see for
ourselves that Laura told the truth in her letters. You are happy--and
therefore we old folk must be happy too, and bury all recollection of
what--what evidently happened for the best. Hm, hm!--At one time we
could