There was but one thing to do and Mr. Kamban did it. His play was
published by Gyldendal, the most distinguished of the Scandinavian
publishers. He sent a copy to Georg Brandes, as do thousands of
authors from all parts of the world. Next evening he received a
letter from the great critic, telling him that he had read the
play, and asking Mr. Kamban to call on him at his home. A few days
later, when he spent four hours with Brandes at and after table,
the latter told him that he received on an average twelve volumes
a day from different authors of every nationality, and were he to
do nothing else, he could not read even one twelfth of them. "But
I am going to write an article about your play," he concluded.
Thus was Mr. Kamban's place as an artist assured.

In spite of the unanimous recognition the play received from the
press, the theatre still refused to produce it, as nearly all the
authorities agreed that it would be "hardly possible to stage."
Finally, the new chief of the theatre, Count F. Brockenhuus-
Schack, determined to carry the matter through. The author then
undertook to stage the play, designed the scenes, and arranged the
mise-en-scene to the minutest detail. On November 14, 1914, the
first performance took place. He sat in the latticed author's box.
The first three acts went smoothly, interrupted at times by
applause. The fourth act, the one talked about and difficult, was
still to come. The fate of the play depended on this act. The
curtain rose, and with the slowness of life the act proceeded. The
silence of the audience was uncanny. Toward the end, the foremost
theatrical critic of the city rose to his feet and raised his hand
as if in horror. The curtain fell. Not a hand stirred. A whole
minute elapsed and Mr. Kamban left the box, refusing to himself to