LINDKVIST. So—so—my young man.
ELIS. Young or not, I ask no mercy, only justice.
LINDKVIST. Well, well, no mercy—no mercy—eh? Do you see this paper that I put here on the corner of the table?
ELIS. Yes.
LINDKVIST. Ah,—now I put it back again. [Puts it back in his pocket.] Well, then, justice, only justice. Listen, my young friend. Once upon a time, I was deprived of my money and in a disagreeable manner. When I wrote you a courteous letter, asking how much time you needed, you saw fit to answer with an uncourteous note—and treated me as if I were a usurer, a plunderer of widows and children—altho' I was really the one plundered, and you belonged to the plunderer's party. But as I was more judicious, I contented myself with answering your note courteously, but to the point. You know my blue paper, eh? I see you do. And I can put the seals on, too, if I choose—but I don't, not yet. [Looks around the room.]
ELIS. As you please; the things are at your disposal.
LINDKVIST. I wasn't looking at the furniture. I looked to see if your mother was in the room. She no doubt loves justice as much as you do?
ELIS. Let us hope so.
LINDKVIST. Good. Do you know that if justice, which you value so highly, had its course, your mother, who only knew of your father's criminal act, could have been imprisoned?
ELIS. No! No!