FIELDBO. Why, my dear Chamberlain, he must live and—— THE CHAMBERLAIN. Oh, with economy he could quite well live on the money that came to him from his mother. FIELDBO. He might perhaps live _on_ it; but what could he live _for_? THE CHAMBERLAIN. For? Well, if he absolutely must have something to live for, hasn’t he qualified as a lawyer? He might live for his profession. FIELDBO. No, that he couldn’t do; it is against his nature. Then there was no official appointment he could well hope for; you have kept the management of your property in your own hands; and your son has no children to educate. Under these circumstances, when he sees tempting examples around him—people who have started from nothing and are worth their half million—— THE CHAMBERLAIN. Their half million! Oh, come now, let us keep to the hundred thousands. But neither the half million nor the hundred thousands can be scraped together with perfectly clean hands;—I don’t mean in the eyes of the world; Heaven knows it is easy enough to keep within the law; but in respect to one’s own conscience. Of course my son cannot descend to anything questionable; so you may be quite sure Mr. Erik Bratsberg’s financial operations won’t bring in any half millions. SELMA, _in walking dress, enters from the back._ SELMA. Good-morning! Is Erik not here? THE CHAMBERLAIN. Good-morning, child! Are you looking for your husband? SELMA. Yes, he said he was coming here. Mr. Monsen called upon him early this morning, and then—— THE CHAMBERLAIN. Monsen? Does Monsen come to your house? SELMA. Now and then; generally on business. Why, my dear Thora, what’s the matter? Have you been crying? THORA. Oh, it’s nothing. SELMA. No, it’s _not_ nothing! At home Erik was out of humour, and here——I can see it in your looks: there is something wrong. What is it? THE CHAMBERLAIN. Nothing you need trouble about, at any rate. You are too dainty to carry burdens, my little Selma. Go into the drawing-room for the present. If Erik said he was coming, he will be here soon, no doubt. SELMA. Come, Thora—and be sure you don’t let me sit in a draught! [_Embracing her._] Oh, I could hug the life out of you, my sweet Thora! [_The two ladies go off to the left._ THE CHAMBERLAIN. So they are hand in glove, are they, the two speculators! They should go into partnership. Monsen and Bratsberg—how nice it would sound! [_A knock at the door in the back._] Come in!