Mrs. Bernick.
Perhaps we ought to draw the curtains?
Rörlund.
Yes, that is just what I was thinking.
[The ladies take their places at the table; Rörlund shuts the garden door and drams the curtains over it and over the windows; it becomes half dark in the room.
Olaf.
[Peeping out] Mother, the manager's wife is standing at the fountain washing her face!
Mrs. Bernick.
What? In the middle of the market-place?
Mrs. Rummel.
And in broad daylight!
Hilmar.
Well, if I were travelling in the desert and came upon a well, I should never hesitate to Ugh, that abominable clarinet!
Rörlund.
The police ought really to interfere.
Bernick.
Oh, come; one must not be too hard upon foreigners; these people are naturally devoid of the deep-rooted sense of propriety that keeps us within the right limits. Let them do as they please; it cannot affect us. All this unseemliness, this rebellion against good taste and good manners, fortunately finds no echo, if I may say so, in our society.—What is this!
