There I can’t agree with you. FIELDBO. H’m. I suppose you are waiting for someone. ASLAKSEN. Yes, I am. FIELDBO. And are things going tolerably at home? Your wife——? ASLAKSEN. In bed, as usual; coughing and wasting away. FIELDBO. And your second child? ASLAKSEN. Oh, he’s a cripple for the rest of his days; you know that. That’s our luck, you see; what the devil’s the use of talking about it? FIELDBO. Let me look at you, Aslaksen! ASLAKSEN. Well; what do you want to see? FIELDBO. You’ve been drinking to-day. ASLAKSEN. Yes, and yesterday too. FIELDBO. Well, yesterday there was some excuse for it; but to-day—— ASLAKSEN. What about your friends in there, then? Aren’t they drinking too? FIELDBO. Yes, my dear Aslaksen; that’s a fair retort; but circumstances differ so in this world. ASLAKSEN. I didn’t choose my circumstances. FIELDBO. No; God chose them for you. ASLAKSEN. No, he didn’t—men chose them. Daniel Heire chose, when he took me from the printing-house and sent me to college. And Chamberlain Bratsberg chose, when he ruined Daniel Heire and sent me back to the printing-house. FIELDBO. Now you know that’s not true. The Chamberlain did not ruin Daniel Heire; Daniel Heire ruined himself. ASLAKSEN. Perhaps! But how dared Daniel Heire ruin himself, in the face of his responsibilities towards me? God’s partly to blame too, of course. Why should he give me talent and ability? Well, of course I could have turned them to account as a respectable handicraftsman; but then comes that tattling old fool—— FIELDBO. It’s base of you to say that. Daniel Heire acted with the best intentions. ASLAKSEN. What good do his “best intentions” do me? You hear them in there, clinking glasses and drinking healths? Well, I too have sat at that table in my day, dressed in purple and fine linen, like the best of them——! That was just the thing for me, that was—for me, that had read so much and had thirsted so long to have my share in all the good things of life. Well, well; how long was Jeppe in Paradise?[14] Smash, crash! down you go—and my fine fortunes fell to pie, as we printers say. FIELDBO. But, after all, you were not so badly off; you had your trade to fall back upon. ASLAKSEN.