Stensgård.
What! In money matters the Chamberlain is surely above reproach.
Heire.
You think so, young man? H'm; I say no more. [Draws nearer.] Twenty years ago I was worth no end of money. My father left me a great fortune. You've heard of my father, I daresay? No? Old Hans Heire? They called him Gold Hans. He was a shipowner: made heaps of money in the blockade time; had his window-frames and door-posts gilded; he could afford it I say no more; so they called him Gold Hans.
Aslaksen.
Didn't he gild his chimney-pots too?
Heire.
No; that was only a penny-a-liner's lie; invented long before your time, however. But he made the money fly; and so did I in my time. My visit to London, for instance—haven't you heard of my visit to London? I took a prince's retinue with me. Have you really not heard of it, eh? And the sums I have lavished on art and science! And on bringing rising talent to the front!
Aslaksen.
[Rises.] Well, good-bye, gentlemen.
Monsen.
What? Are you leaving us?
