“Don’t make a scene, and don’t let’s have any of your logic! Go on! They were all here, mamma and your five sisters?”
“Four sisters! You don’t care much for your family!”
“No more do you!”
“No more do I!”
“And they came here to condole with you on account of my brother’s discharge? Is that so?”
“Yes! And they were impertinent enough to say that I had no longer any reason to be stuck up. …”
“Proud, old girl!”
“They said stuck up. Personally I should never have condescended to make use of such an expression.”
“What did you say? I expect you gave them a piece of your mind?”
“You may depend on that! The old lady threatened never again to cross our threshold.”
“Did she really? Do you think she meant it?”
“No, I don’t! But I’m certain that the old man. …”
“You shouldn’t speak of your father in that tone! Supposing somebody heard you!”
“Do you think I should run that risk? However, the old man—between you and me—will never come here again.”
Falk pondered; after a while he resumed the conversation.
“Is your mother proud? Is she easily hurt? I’m always so afraid of hurting people’s feelings, as you know; you ought to tell me about her weak points, so that I can take care.”
“You ask me whether she is proud? You know; she is, in her own way. Supposing, for instance, she was told that we had given a dinner-party without asking her and my sisters, she would never come here again.”
“Wouldn’t she really?”
“You may depend upon it.”
“It’s extraordinary that people of her class—”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, nothing; women are so sensitive! How’s your association getting on? What did you call it?”
“The Association for the Promotion of Women’s Rights.”
“What rights do you mean?”
“The wife shall have the right of disposing of her own property.”
“Hasn’t she got it already?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
“May I ask what your property is of which you are not allowed to dispose?”
“Half of your’s, old man! My dowry.”
“The devil! Who taught you such rubbish?”
“It’s not rubbish; it’s the spirit of the age, my dear. The new law should read like this: ‘When a woman marries she becomes the owner of half her husband’s property, and of this half she can dispose as she likes.’ ”
“And when she has run through it, the husband will have to keep her! I should take jolly good care not to.”
“Under the new law you would be forced to do so, or go to the poorhouse. This would be the penalty for a man who doesn’t keep his wife.”
“Take care! You are going too far! But, have you any meetings? Who were the women present? Tell me?”
“We are still busy with the statutes, with the preliminaries.”
“But who are the women?”
“At present only Mrs. Homan, the controller’s wife, and Lady Rehnhjelm.”
“Rehnhjelm? A very good name! I think I’ve heard it before. But didn’t you tell me you were going to float a Dorcas Society as well?”
“Found a Dorcas Society! Oh, yes, and what d’you think? Pastor Skore is coming one evening to read a paper.”
“Pastor Skore is an excellent preacher and moves in good society. I’m glad that you’re keeping away from the lower classes. There’s nothing so fatal to man or woman as to form low connections. My father always said that; it was one of his strictest principles.”
Mrs. Falk picked up the breadcrumbs from the tablecloth and dropped them into her empty cup. Mr. Falk put his fingers into his waistcoat pocket and brought out a toothpick with which he removed some tiny atoms of coffee grounds lodged between his teeth.
Husband and wife felt self-conscious in each other’s company. Each guessed the thoughts of the other, and both realized that the first who broke the silence would say something foolish and compromising. They cast about for fresh subjects of conversation, mentally examined them and found them unsuitable; every one of them had some connection with what had been said, or could be brought into connection with it. Falk would have liked to have reason for finding fault with the breakfast, so as to have an excuse for expressing indignation; Mrs. Falk looked out of the window, feebly hoping that there might be a change in the weather—in vain.
A maidservant entered and saved the situation by offering them a tray with the newspapers, at the same time announcing Mr. Levin.
“Ask him to wait,” said the master curtly.
For a few moments his boots squeaked up and down the room, preparing the visitor who was waiting in the corridor for his arrival.
The trembling Levin, greatly impressed by the newly invented waiting in the corridor, was ultimately conducted into the master’s private room, where he was received like a petitioner.
“Have you brought the bill of exchange with you?” asked Falk.
“I think so,” replied the crestfallen Levin, producing a bundle of guarantees and blank bills of various values. “Which bank do you prefer? I have bills on all with the exception of one.”
In spite of the grave character of the situation Falk could not help smiling as he looked at the incomplete guarantees on which the name was missing; the bills fully filled up with the exception of an acceptor’s name, and those completely filled up, which had not been accepted.
“Let’s say the Ropemakers’ Bank,” he said.
“That’s the one impossible one—I’m known there.”
“Well, the Shoemakers’ Bank, the Tailors’ Bank, anyone you like, only do be quick about it.”
They finally accepted the Joiners’ Bank.
“And now,” said Falk, with a look as if he had bought the other’s soul, “now you had better go and order a new suit; but I want you to order it at a military tailor’s, so that they will supply you later on with a uniform on credit.”
“Uniform? I don’t want—”
“Hold your tongue, and do as you are told! It must be finished on Thursday next, when I’m going to give a big party. As you know, I’ve sold my shop and warehouse, and tomorrow I shall receive the freedom of the city as a wholesale merchant.”
“Oh! I congratulate you!”
“Hold
