Johan: Of course.

Bernick: But not immediately, I hope?

Johan: As soon as possible. It was only to humour Lona that I
came over with her, you know.

Bernick: Really? How so?

Johan: Well, you see, Lona is no longer young, and lately she
began to be obsessed with home-sickness; but she never would
admit it. (Smiles.) How could she venture to risk leaving such a
flighty fellow as me alone, who before I was nineteen had been
mixed up in...

Bernick: Well, what then?

Johan: Well, Karsten, now I am coming to a confession that I am
ashamed to make.

Bernick: You surely haven't confided the truth to her?

Johan: Yes. It was wrong of me, but I could not do otherwise. You
can have no conception what Lona has been to me. You never could
put up with her; but she has been like a mother to me. The first
year we were out there, when things went so badly with us, you
have no idea how she worked! And when I was ill for a long time,
and could earn nothing and could not prevent her, she took to
singing ballads in taverns, and gave lectures that people laughed