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I, madam, reverently bare my head
To the ball queen; a child of beauty she—
And the ideal's golden woof is spread
In ball-rooms, hardly in the nursery.
Mrs. Halm [with suppressed bitterness].
Your conduct, sir, is easily explained;
A plighted lover cannot be a friend;
That is the kernel of the whole affair;
I have a very large experience there.
Falk.
No doubt,—with seven nieces, each a wife—
Mrs. Halm.
And each a happy wife—
Falk [with emphasis].
Ah, do we know?
Guldstad.
How!
Miss Jay.
Mr. Falk!
Lind.
Are you resolved to sow
Dissension?
Falk [vehemently].
Yes, war, discord, turmoil, strife!
