[There is loud knocking on the private door.]

DOCTOR. There he is! Put the jacket under your shawl on the chair,
and you must all go out for the time being and the Pastor and I
will receive him, for that door will not hold out many minutes. Now
go.

NURSE [Going out left.] The Lord help us!

[Laura locks desk, then goes out left. Noejd goes out back. After a
moment the private door is forced open, with such violence that the
lock is broken and the chair is thrown into the middle of the room.
The Captain comes in with a pile of books under his arm, which he
puts on the table.]

CAPTAIN. The whole thing is to be read here, in every book. So I
wasn't out of my mind after all! Here it is in the Odyssey, book
first, verse 215, page 6 of the Upsala translation. It is
Telemachus speaking to Athene. "My mother indeed maintains that he,
Odysseus, is my father, but I myself know it not, for no man yet
hath known his own origin." And this suspicion is harbored by
Telemachus about Penelope, the most virtuous of women! Beautiful,
eh? And here we have the prophet Ezekiel: "The fool saith; behold
here is my father, but who can tell whose loins engendered him."
That's quite clear! And what have we here? The History of Russian
Literature by Merslaekow. Alexander Puschkin, Russia's greatest
poet, died of torture front the reports circulated about his wife's
unfaithfulness rather than by the bullet in his breast, from a
duel. On his death-bed he swore she was innocent. Ass, ass! How