That depends; the door, at least, stands ajar for them. Remember, in two ways a man can be Himself—there’s a right and wrong side to the jacket. You know they have lately discovered in Paris A way to take portraits by help of the sun. One can either produce a straightforward picture Or else what is known as a negative one. In the latter the lights and the shades are reversed, And they’re apt to seem ugly to commonplace eyes; But for all that the likeness is latent in them, And all you require is to bring it out. If, then, a soul shall have pictured itself In the course of its life by the negative method, The plate is not therefore entirely cashiered,— But without more ado they consign it to me. For ulterior treatment I take it in hand, And by suitable methods effect its development. I steam it, I dip it, I burn it, I scour it, With sulphur and other ingredients like that, Till the image appears which the plate was designed for,— That, namely, which people call positive. But for one who, like you, has smudged himself out, Neither sulphur nor potash avails in the least. PEER. I see; one must come to you black as a raven To turn out a white ptarmigan? Pray what’s the name Inscribed ’neath the negative counterfeit That you’re now to transfer to the positive side? THE LEAN ONE. The name’s Peter[144] Gynt. PEER. Peter Gynt? Indeed? Is Herr Gynt himself? THE LEAN ONE. Yes, he vows he is. PEER. Well, he’s one to be trusted, that same Herr Peter. THE LEAN ONE. You know him, perhaps? PEER. Oh yes, after a fashion;— One knows all sorts of people. THE LEAN ONE. I’m pressed for time; Where saw you him last? PEER. It was down at the Cape. THE LEAN ONE. Di Buona Speranza? PEER. Just so; but he sails Very shortly again, if I’m not mistaken. THE LEAN ONE. I must hurry off then without delay. I only hope I may catch him in time! That Cape of Good Hope—I could never abide it;— It’s ruined by missionaries from Stavanger. [_He rushes off southwards._ PEER.