Source Text: FATHER2.1Doctor: From what I could gather as we talked, I'm not entirely convinced about the case. In the first place, you made a mistake when you said he arrived at his extraordinary conclusions about other heavenly bodies by means of a microscope. Now that I find that it was a spectroscope, he's not only cleared of any suspicion of mental disorder, but he has actually made a great contribution to science.
Laura: Yes, but I never said that!
Doctor: Madam, I made notes of our conversation, and I remember questioning you on that particular point, because I thought I must have misheard you. One has to be careful about making an accusation that could lead to a man being certified.
Laura: Certified?
Doctor: Yes; you know, of course, that an insane person loses his civil and family rights.
Laura: No, I didn't know that.
Doctor: There's one other point that strikes me as suspicious. He spoke about his correspondence with the booksellers going unanswered. May I ask if -- out of misplaced kindness -- you intercepted it?
Laura: Yes, I did. It was my duty to look after the interests of the house; I couldn't stand idly by and let him ruin us all.
Doctor: Forgive my saying so, but I don't think you can have considered the consequences of such a step. If he were to discover that you've been secretly meddling in his affairs, he would have cause for suspicions, and then they'd grow like an avalanche. Moreover by your action you have thwarted his will, and increased his irritability. You yourself must have found how infuriating it can be when one's dearest wishes are thwarted and one's will obstructed.
Laura: As if I didn't know that.
Doctor: Then think how it must have affected him.
Laura: It's midnight, and he's not back yet. I'm afraid something terrible may have happened.
Doctor: Madam, tell me what took place this evening after I left? I must know everything.
Laura: His mind wandered, and he had the most extraordinary fancy. Just imagine, he had an idea that he wasn't the father of his own child.
Doctor: That was odd. What put that into his head?
Laura: I don't know at all, unless it was that he had to interview one of the men on some question of a maintenance order, and when I took the girl's part, he became excited and said that no one could tell who was the father of a child. Heaven knows I did all I could to calm him, but I'm beginning to think that he's beyond help.
Doctor: But things can't go on like this; something must be done, and without arousing his suspicions. Tell me, has the Captain ever had these fancies before?
Laura: Six years ago we had much the same trouble, and then he actually admitted, in his own letter to the doctor, that he was afraid his mind was going.
Doctor: Yes, yes, yes, a case like this is deep-rooted, and what with the sanctity of family life, and so forth, I can't probe too deeply; I must confine myself to the obvious symptoms. What's done can't be undone, unfortunately -- yet the treatment must have some relation to what's gone before.
Laura: I've no idea, he has such wild fancies nowadays.
Doctor: Would you like me to stay till he comes back? To avoid suspicion I could say that your mother wasn't well and that I'd come to see her.
Laura: Yes, that would do splendidly. Don't leave us, Doctor; if you only knew how anxious I am. But wouldn't it be better to tell him outright what you think of his condition?
Doctor: One never does that with a mental patient, unless he brings up the subject himself, and then only in exceptional cases. It depends entirely on what course the illness takes. But we mustn't sit here; perhaps it would look more natural if I went into the next room.
Laura: Yes, that would be better, then Margret can sit here. She always waits for him when he's out; besides, she's the only one who has any influence over him. Margret! Margret!
Nurse: Did you want something, ma'am? Is master back?
Laura: No, but I want you to sit here and wait for him; and when he comes, you're to tell him that my mother's ill, and that's why the doctor's here.
Nurse: Yes, yes, I'll see that everything's all right.
Laura: Will you come in here, Doctor?
Doctor: Thank you, madam.
Nurse: Yes, yes . . . "A pitiful and wretched thing Is life, that swiftly passes by. Death's angel o'er us spreads his wing And through the world resounds his cry: "All must perish, all is vain!" Ah yes! "All that upon this earth draws breath To earth must fall beneath his doom, Sorrow alone escapes our death, to carve upon the gaping tomb: "All must perish, all is vain!" Yes indeed --
Bertha: Margret, may I sit with you? It's so lonely up there.
Nurse: Why, bless my soul, Bertha, aren't you in bed yet?
Bertha: You see, I want to finish Papa's Christmas present. And I've brought something you'll like, too.
Nurse: Yes, but, my dear, this will never do. It's gone twelve o'clock, and you've got to be up in the morning.
Bertha: What does it matter? I daren't stay up there all alone, I think it's haunted.
Nurse: There now, what did I say? You mark my words, there's a curse on this house. What did you hear, Bertha?
Bertha: Well, actually, I heard someone singing up in the attic.
Nurse: In the attic? At this time of night?
Bertha: Yes, it was such a sad song, the saddest song I've ever heard. And it seemed as if it came from the box- room -- you know, on the left, where the cradle stands.
Nurse: Oh dear, oh dear! And such a fearful night too, I'm sure the chimneys'll blow down: "Ah, what is our life below? Pain and sorrow, grief and woe. Even when it seemed most fair, Naught but agony was there." Yes, dear child, God send us a happy Christmas.
Bertha: Margret, is it true that Papa's ill?
Nurse: Yes, he really is.
Bertha: Then we shan't be able to keep Christmas Eve. But if he's ill, how can he be up?
Nurse: You see, child, with his kind of illness he doesn't have to go to bed. Ssh -- there's someone out in the hall. Go to bed now -- and take the coffee-pot away, or the master'll be angry.
Bertha: Good night, Margret.
Nurse: Good night, child -- and God bless you.
Captain: Are you still up? Go to bed.
Nurse: I was only waiting till -- Mr Adolf.
Captain: What do you want?
Nurse: The old lady's ill, and the doctor's here.
Captain: Is it serious?
Nurse: No I don't think so -- just a cold.
Captain: Margret, who was the father of your child?
Nurse: Oh, I've told you time and time again: it was that scamp Johansson.
Captain: Are you sure it was he?
Nurse: You're talking like a child! Of course I'm sure, seeing he was the only one.
Captain: But was he sure he was the only one? No, he couldn't be, even though you were sure. That's the difference, you see.
Nurse: I don't see any difference.
Captain: No, you can't see it, but the difference is there all the same. Do you think Bertha's like me?
Nurse: Why yes -- you're as like as two peas.
Captain: Did Johansson admit that he was the father?
Nurse: Well, he had to!