Fieldbo.
Your son's bill!
The Chamberlain.
Yes; he has sent it to me.
Fieldbo.
Of his own accord?
The Chamberlain.
Of his own accord, and unconditionally. It is fine; it is noble. From this day forth, my house is open to him.
Fieldbo.
Think again! For your own sake, for your daughter's
The Chamberlain.
Oh, let me alone! He is better than you in many ways. At any rate he is straightforward, while you are underhand in your dealings.
Fieldbo.
I?
The Chamberlain.
Yes, you! You have made yourself the master of this house; you come and go as you please; I consult you about everything—and yet
Fieldbo.
Well?—And yet?
The Chamberlain.
And yet there's always something confoundedly close about you; yes, and something—something uppish that I cannot endure!
Fieldbo.
Please explain yourself!
