nothing worth giving. In the morning It will be known all over the town just as everyone
is reading my fresh article. There will be a riot; I shall be hunted like a wild beast. What
shall I do? I might sneak out of the town? Then they will gloat over me! I won't allow
them that pleasure! No, I cannot stay my hand utter a failure; only after a victory. That is
the cursed part of it-never, never to be able to end it. Oh, for some one that could end it--
end it, end it! Oh, for one day of real peace! Shall _I_ ever get that? (Sits down.) No, no,
I must get away! (Gets up.) To-morrow must take care of itself. (Starts.) There is the
paper he was reading! (Steps over it.) I will take it away--and burn it. (Takes it up.) I
cannot burn it here; some one might come. (Is just going to put it into his pocket, as it is,
but takes it out again to fold it better.) A Sunday's paper, apparently! Then it is _not_ to-
day's? An old number, I suppose. Then the whole thing is a mistake! (Sighs with relief.)
Let me look again! (Opens the paper, tremblingly.) I don't deserve it, but--. (Reads.)
Sunday, the--. _To-morrow's_ paper? _Here_? How in all the world did it get here?
(Appears horrified.) Here are the articles about Evje! How on earth did they get in? Didn't
I send a message? Didn't I write? This on the top of everything else! Are even my printers
conspiring against me? Well, even if it ruins me, I shall go on! They shall find out what I
can do. How on earth can I be expected to help it if a weak-minded fellow dies, or if my
printers are drunk or my manager has delirium tremens! I shall pursue my end through all
chances and in spite of all their tricks, and I shall crush them, crush them--I shall--.
(Gives way to a paroxysm of rage. At this moment the MAID comes in with the
DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT. The MAID rushes into the bedroom. The EDITOR starts up.)
Who is that? What do you want?
The Doctor's Assistant (coldly). What do you want here?
The Editor. I? Oh, I was called up to help the sick man into his bed.
The Doctor's Assistant (as before). Ah!--so it was you! (A pause.)
The Editor. Have you ever seen me before?
The Doctor's Assistant. Yes. I have heard you grind your teeth before this. (Goes into
the bedroom.)
The Editor (after standing for a moment looking after him). They will all look at me to-
morrow like that-with those cold eyes. "Every man's hand against him, and his hand
against every man;" there can only be one end to that. To-night, the meeting--and Harald
Rejn will take them by storm. To-morrow, his brother's death--and my new article in the
paper--and, in addition to that, those about Evje, who at present is only angry. And the
election in two days! Oh, yes, he will be elected now. So I may as well give it all up at
once. I would change places with any wolf that has a lair to hide in. Those cold eyes of
his! (Shudders.) That is how every one will look at me to-morrow! They have pierced
through my armour! (The DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT comes back, and the EDITOR
makes an effort to resume his former confident manner.)
The Doctor's Assistant. I don't know whether you will be glad to hear that it is all over.
