_Mrs. Ulrica_. I!--no--I'll not be the enemy--my master's enemy!

_Christiern_. Well, I'll be the enemy.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. You!--Oh no, you sha'n't be the enemy.

_Christiern_. Well, then, let the cake be the enemy.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. The cake--my cake!--no, indeed.

_Christiern_. Well, let the candle be the enemy.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Well, let the candle be the enemy; and where was my master, and where are you--I don't understand--what is all this great slop?

_Christiern_. Why, ma'am, the field of battle; and let the coffee-pot be my master: here comes the enemy--

_Enter Footman_.

_Footman_. Mrs. Ulrica, more refreshments wanting for the dancers above.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. More refreshments!--more!--bless my heart, 'tis an _un_possibility they can have swallowed down all I laid out, not an hour ago, in the confectionary room.

_Footman_. Confectionary room! Oh, I never thought of looking there.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Look ye there, now!--why, where did you think of looking, then?--in the stable, or the c.o.c.kloft, hey?--[_Exit Footman_.]--But I can't scold on such a night as this: their poor heads are all turned with joy; and my own's scarce in a more proper_er_ condition--Well, I beg your pardon--pray go on--the coffee-pot is my master, and the candle's the enemy.

_Christiern_. So, ma'am, here comes the enemy full drive, upon Count Helmaar.

[_A call without of Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!_]

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!--can't you do without Mrs.

Ulrica one instant but you must call, call--(_Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs.

Ulrica!_)--Mercy on us, what do you want? I _must_ go for one instant.

_Christiern_. And I _must_ bid ye a good night.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Nay, nay, nay,--(_eagerly_)--you won't go--I'll be back.

_Enter Footman_.

_Footman_ Ma'am! Mrs. Ulrica! the key of the blue press.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. The key of the blue press--I had it in my hand just now--I gave it--I--(_looks amongst a bunch of keys, and then all round the room_)--I know nothing at all about it, I tell you--I must drink my tea, and I will--[_Exit Footman_]. 'Tis a sin to scold on such a night as this, if one could help it--Well, Mr. Christiern, so the coffee-pot's my master.

_Christiern_. And the sugar-basin--why here's a key in the sugar-basin.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Lord bless me! 'tis the very key, the key of the blue press--why dear me--(_feels in her pocket_)--and here are the sugar tongs in my pocket, I protest--where was my poor head? Hers, Thomas!

Thomas! here's the key; take it, and don't say a word for your life, if you can help it; you need not come in, I say--(_she holds the door--the footman pushes in_).

_Footman_. But, ma'am, I have something particular to say.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Why, you've always something particular to say--is it any thing about my master?

_Footman_. No, but about your purse, ma'am.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. What of my purse?

_Footman_. Here's your little G.o.dson, ma'am, is here, who has found it.

_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_aside_). Hold your foolish tongue, can't you?--don't mention my little G.o.dson, for your life.

[_The little boy creeps in under the footman's arm; his sister Kate follows him. Mrs. Ulrica lifts up her hands and eyes, with signs of impatience_.]

_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_aside_). Now I had settled in my head that their father should not see them till to-morrow morning.

_Little Girl_. Who is that strange man?

_Little Boy_. He has made me forget all I had to say.

_Christiern_ (_aside_). What charming children!

_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_asid_). He does not know them to be his--they don't know him to be their father. (_Aloud_) Well, children, what brings you here at this time of night?

_Little Boy_. What I was going to say was--(_the little boy looks at the stranger between every two or three words, and Christiern looks at him_)--what I was going to say was--

_Little Girl_. Ha! ha! ha!--he forgets that we found this purse in the forest as we were going home.

_Little Boy_. And we thought that it might be yours.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. Why should you think it was mine?

_Little Boy_. Because n.o.body else could have so much money in one purse; so we brought it to you--here it is.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. 'Tis none of my purse. (_Aside_) Oh! he'll certainly find out that they are his children--(_she stands between the children and Christiern_). 'Tis none of my purse; but you are good, honest little dears, and I'll be hanged if I won't carry you both up to my master himself, this very minute, and tell the story of your honesty before all the company.

[_She pushes the children towards the door. Ulric looks back._]

_Little Boy_. He has a soldier's coat on--let me ask him if he is a soldier.

_Mrs. Ulrica_. No--what's that to you?

_Little Girl_. Let me ask him if he knows any thing about father.

_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_puts her hand before the little girl's mouth_). Hold your little foolish tongue, I say--what's that to you?

[_Exeunt, Mrs. Ulrica pushing forward the children._]

_Enter, at the opposite door,_ THOMAS, _the footman._

_Footman._ Sir, would you please to come into our servants'-hall, only for one instant: there's one wants to speak a word to you.