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THE JUDGE. Are you going out, Ingolf?
INGOLF. I'm just going up to my room. I have a letter to answer.
[Goes out.]
THE JUDGE. Well, my dear, to-morrow is the great day. HADDA PADDA.
How good you are, father, to make me feel your gladness as you do.
THE JUDGE [takes her to his side, and sits down with her]. You
happy child! I can't believe that you are grown up. It is as if I
were beginning to realise it now, for the first time. But still, I
shall have you one year more.
HADDA PADDA. Father!
THE JUDGE. Yes, dear.
HADDA PADDA. Father. ...!
THE JUDGE. What is the matter, dear?
HADDA PADDA. There is something I want to ask you.
THE JUDGE. And that is?
HADDA PADDA. I want to ask you--[Stops abruptly.]
LADY ANNA [enters from the back].
THE JUDGE [to Hadda]. What did you want to ask me? [Smiles to his
wife.] Something mother may not hear?
HADDA PADDA. No, something I have to ask both of you.
THE JUDGE. Let us hear it, then.
HADDA PADDA. It is a very great favor, but you must not say no.
THE JUDGE. Ask it.
LADY ANNA. Well, what is it? [She has taken some work from the
basket, and sits down to sew.]
HADDA PADDA. I want you to let me go to Copenhagen again. I want
to go with Ingolf.
THE JUDGE. Now?
HADDA PADDA. Yes, now, Tuesday.
LADY ANNA. You are not in earnest, Hrafnhild. You know, Kristrun
is going to leave for England next month, your brother has written
for her. And she hasn't been abroad yet, while you have been
twice.
HADDA PADDA. Nor do I want her to abandon her plan.
LADY ANNA. But do you want me to do without both of you at the
same time?
HADDA PADDA. Would that be hard for you, mother?
LADY ANNA. Hard--it would be impossible. With all the parties we
have, I must have one of you at home.
THE JUDGE. Of course, it would be difficult for mother to manage
without your assistance--since Kristrun is going away.
LADY ANNA. I never thought of that, Hrafnhild. Besides, I think it
in good taste, since your engagement will be announced to-morrow
before Ingolf leaves, for you to remain at home this year till he
has passed his examination and comes back.
HADDA PADDA. Yes, that would be in very good taste, if I could
only bear it.
LADY ANNA. You must also remember that you would disturb him in
his studies, if you were with him this winter. ... Just when he
wants to concentrate on his work.
HADDA PADDA. I want to make his work easier--that's just what I
want to do,
LADY ANNA. I can't do without you, Hadda.
THE JUDGE [pats his wife on the cheek]. If our dear little Hadda
Padda were sick, we would have to get one girl more in the house.
And then, if she had to go away for a year to recover, and we were
waiting for her to come back strong and healthy--don't you think
we would readily allow her to go?
HADDA PADDA [throws her arms around his neck]. Father, I was sure
that you ...
LADY ANNA. That would be quite another thing.
THE JUDGE. Then you would realise that you COULD do without her.
LADY ANNA. But you don't mean, that any one else can fill her
place--
HADDA PADDA. Mother, you think so much of Helga. I have talked to
her, and she is willing to help you.
THE JUDGE. There you are! Can you imagine any one better?
LADY ANNA. It is not only that--If they were married, it would be
quite proper for them to go abroad together.
HADDA PADDA [looks angrily at her mother, but says nothing].
THE JUDGE [discovers it. Walks up to his wife, and lays his arm on
her shoulder]. We have not grown so old as you would have us.
[_Heartily._] Perhaps then, it is not proper for an old venerable
judge to be as much in love with his silver-haired wife as when
they were engaged. But he can't help it, and that's just the
reason, he still understands love in young people. [_To Hadda._]
Ask your mother once more to let you go. Maybe she will when she
knows you have my consent.
LADY ANNA. Well, I see what this is leading to. You know I don't
usually oppose you.
HADDA PADDA. Father, you're always so good to me. [_Kisses him._]
THE JUDGE [_in a whisper to Hadda_]. Now kiss your mother too!
HADDA PADDA. Nice mother! I will be twice as much pleasure to you
when I come back. [_Kisses her._]
LITTLE SKULI [_enters_]. Hadda Padda, do you want the ship to have
two or three masts?
HADDA PADDA. Now let me see, my boy. [_Goes out with him._]
THE JUDGE. To-morrow--that will be a happy day. At last I shall
see my fondest wish fulfilled, mine and my dear old friend's--that
our children should belong to each other. I never suspected this
would happen when Hrafnhild went abroad last year.
LADY ANNA. And now she is to go with him again. She has much to
thank her father for.
THE JUDGE. I think time has kept them apart long enough.--I had a
long talk with Helga the other day--they are very good friends,
you know, and she was in Copenhagen at the same time as Hadda last
year. She told me that Ingolf had quite given up his studies, and
it was Hadda Padda who made him take them up again. ... From
Christmas on, last year, he studied from morning to night,--and
now he will pass his examination, and begin here as an attorney.
Then they will probably marry next autumn.
LADY ANNA [_nods_]. He must be kind to Hrafnhild--she is more than
just fond of him. Have you noticed that she is beginning to
resemble him?
THE JUDGE. Now, in spite of everything, I think we are beginning
to grow old; our sight is failing us.
LADY ANNA. Not my sight. Listen to me. You should have seen her
with the flowers this summer while she was home. When she watered
them, she talked with them as if they could understand her. It was
as if she returned every rise of fragrance with a smile. And the
flowers thrived and blossomed, as if they absorbed her tenderness.
THE JUDGE. I have noticed something else lately: that every time
she comes into a room it is as though the air were filled with the
beauty of peace. I could have myself blindfolded, and all Reykavik
could walk through the room on soles of velvet--when SHE entered I
could recognize her by the delightful calm that accompanies her.
LADY ANNA. This excessive love ... it is worrying me. Maybe it was
mostly on that account that I delayed agreeing to her departure.
THE JUDGE. There are so many things that worry you. Why doesn't
Ingolf come back? [Kisses her on the cheek.] I will talk to him
about it. [Goes out.]
RANNVEIG [enters]. The servants want to know how many places to
lay for dinner.
LADY ANNA [putting aside her needlework]. Well, I'm coming--[Goes
out.]
RANNVEIG [walks slowly to the centre of the room, stands looking
at the terra cotta statue]. When you dream something, you don't
want to come true, you ought to tell it to some one--better to a
stone than to no one. [Hands folded, she walks slowly up to the
statue, whispering in its ear,] I dreamed of a beautiful and
marvellous diamond palace. I walked around it, but it had no
doors. No one could get in. If any one were inside, he could not
get out. I heard weeping inside the palace. It seemed to tear my
heart. I recognised the weeping?--[She passes her hand over her
eyes, looks at the statue a long time, walks away from it, looks
back at it once more, and goes out. In the doorway she encounters
Hadda, looks at her, pats her cheek, and disappears.]
HADDA PADDA [enters with a water jug in her hand, walks up to a
flower in the window].
INGOLF [enters and steals up to her].
INGOLF. Now I know the secret. You are going with me to
Copenhagen. Hadda Padda, Hadda Padda, I love you! Let me sing to
you. [He takes both her hands and while he sings, wild with joy,
she hums the tune.]
You shall stand upon my skis,
In a mad precipitation
We, together, cleave the breeze:
We will,
My daffodil!
To the place where we'll abide
On my white horse you'll be riding:
Clouds of dust the moon will hide--
They will,
My daffodil!
[He lifts her in his arms. The sun is shining through the window
and lights up the room.]
HADDA PADDA [stretches her arms toward the light]. It is as though
I had wings. [Turns round in his arms, and folds him in her
embrace.] I will fly to my happiness.
CURTAIN
ACT II
(The following summer. A drawing-room in the Sheriff's house. The
furniture old-fashioned and elaborate. On the left, a door leading
to the dining-room. Against the wall, in front, a piano. On the
right, under a window, a chaise-longue. In the back, an open
window, through which can be seen green meadows, rising to a
plateau, over the edge of which roars a water-fall. At the
horizon, deep blue mountains. Bright sunshine, a hot summer's
day.)
(In the middle of the room, around a table, set for coffee, the
Sheriff and Lady Margaret, Olof and Steindor, Ingolf, Hrafnhild
and Kristrun are sitting. The children, Little Skuli, Sigga, Doddi
and Magga are seated at a small table near the window.)
OLOF [to the children]. You may go out now, children.
THE CHILDREN [rise].
SIGGA [To Olof]. Mother, when may we go berry-picking with Hadda
Padda?
HADDA PADDA [smiles at the children]. We'll go next Sunday.
OLOF. Now go out and play! It's such lovely weather!
STEINDOR. And you may build your little play-house, but not in the
part that isn't mowed.
SKULI. Come along, children!
DODDI. Come along! [The children go out.]
HADDA PADDA. I had a letter from my friend Helga to-day. She
writes she is coming to see me for the week-end.
THE SHERIFF. We expect quite a few people over the week-end. I had
a letter from Arni, the tourist guide, who says he'll be here with
six tourists next Sunday.
STEINDOR. How are we going to accommodate all these people?
LADY MARGARET. Yes, it is true, every summer we have more and more
guests. But, what difference does it make--The rooms of Breidabol
are still large enough.
OLOF [to Steindor]. You can room with Ingolf for the present. [To
Hadda.] And I'll move in with you. Then we'll have an extra room.
THE SHERIFF. My, but will you really be here three weeks to-
morrow? It's so good to have both sisters at the same time. You
haven't been here together since you were tiny little tots--just
so high!
KRISTRUN. I would have been here last year, if I hadn't been sick.
THE SHERIFF. ... Well, let's not lose any more time, [Gets up]
Steindor, we are behind in our work. [They go out. Then all get
up. Ingolf goes over to the arm-chair near the window, and sits
down.]
LADY MARGARET [going out]. Will you clear the table, Olla dear.
HADDA PADDA [assists Olof]. Shall we all go for a walk now? It's a
glorious day!
OLOF [taking the coffee things into the dining-room]. Yes, I just
have some time to spare.
KRISTRUN. I'm not going out again, I've just come in.
HADDA PADDA [taking Ingolf's hand]. You look so tired to-day. ...
Shall we go?
INGOLF. It's cooler indoors.
HADDA PADDA [in the same tone, as if she had not addressed
Ingolf]. Olof, shall we go?
OLOF. Yes, Hadda dear. [Takes her arm--they go. Ingolf leans back
in the arm-chair and closes his eyes.]
KRISTRUN [jumps on top of the chaise-longue, swings her arms
crying]. Ingolf! Ride me pickaback! Right now! [Ingolf looks at
her, smiling, casts a glance at the door and through the window,
as he approaches the chaise-longue. Kristrun sits gracefully down
on his shoulder. Her dress is drawn rather tightly, so that one of
her legs shows. He takes hold of her leg to support her, and
starts walking around the table.]
KRISTRUN [raises her head and looks into his eyes]. Will you be a
good boy and take hold above the dress. [Lets go, and raises
herself.] You silly boy, do you think you may hold me by my leg?
INGOLF. Well--I don't want to hold you by your leg!
KRISTRUN [grasps him around the shoulder]. You silly boy! Do you
think you can lower your shoulder! I'm falling, I'm falling, hold
on to my leg! [Ingolf walks on. They hear footsteps.]
KRISTRUN [about to spring down]. Somebody's coming! Oh, it's only
the children. [Doddi and Skuli appear in the doorway.]
DODDI. Isn't father here? [The boys begin to laugh.]
KRISTRUN [clicks with her tongue]. There!--Now my horse must run!-
-Now run, my colt! [Strokes his hair.] If he is spirited, I'll
call him Goldmane!--Ge-yap! Ge-yap! ... He doesn't want to be
called Goldmane? Skuli, hand me my whip, in the corner there,
right by the sideboard. [Points into the dining-room.]
LITTLE SKULI. To beat Ingolf! No indeed!
KRISTRUN. Doddi dear, you do it! [Doddi runs for the whip, and
gives it to her. She swings the whip around, so that it whizzes in
the air. As Ingolf passes the piano, she runs the knob of the whip
along the key-board.]
LITTLE SKULI. Let's go, Doddi. [They go out.]
KRISTRUN. Are you tired?
INGOLF. I seem to feel lighter, in holding you on my shoulder.
KRISTRUN. Hf--! Lighter?
INGOLF. Yes, certainly!
KRISTRUN. Hf--! In carrying me?
INGOLF. In feeling the weight of your body. In that way, I could
bear you to the end of the world.
KRISTRUN [hops down, looks straight into his eyes]. Really now, I
refuse to listen to such foolishness. ... Only look kindly at me
once, instead of bearing me to the end of the world. [Sits down.]
INGOLF. Kindly!--Kristrun, do I deserve the cruelty you have shown
me these last days.--Every moment of the day you have felt my soul
streaming out to you, yet you choose the most common terms to
describe my feelings, and pretend not to recognize them. I have
been inventing new pet-names for you all the time, so that no one
should have as pretty a name as you, so that you should have a
prettier name to-day than you had yesterday. You pretend not to
hear them. I have shown you every tenderness, but by your pretence
you keep it at sword's length from you. You have been torturing me
in this way now for three days. ... Look kindly at you! Why, every
time I look at you, you see my eyes shine through a tearfilled
dimness ...
KRISTRUN. Have you seen it in the glass?
INGOLF [keeps silent for a while, bites his lips, turns away from
her]. Some women should not be allowed to be pretty.
KRISTRUN [laughs, dangling her foot]. Quite right. But men in
turn, ought to be obliged to be handsome--otherwise they are
disgusting.
INGOLF. Kristrun! Is it quite impossible to talk seriously with
you? Is there nothing so sacred to you that you wouldn't ridicule
it?
KRISTRUN. Well--?
INGOLF. No, I suppose there is not.
KRISTRUN. ... Perhaps more than you think.
INGOLF. Why do you let me suffer, then? Haven't I confessed my
love to you?
KRISTRUN. No, you haven't.
INGOLF [sits down at her side. While he speaks she sits erect in
the chair, her hands folded in her lap, her head raised. A bright
smile plays on her half-open lips. It is as if she were listening
to a beautiful tale]. Are you waiting for me to say just the
words: I love you! Weren't there moments when I made a greater
confession, when one sigh, one glance, told you more than these
words? But you are not satisfied with hearing a love like the
fluttering of wings in the dead of night, you want to hear it
sound like a clarion call in your ears: I love you, I love you!
... To-day I saw you standing at the piano, there; each feature in
your face was in repose, each move blended softly into fine lines.
I saw you as one of those works of art of an ancient master, which
could lure the infidel to believe in the resurrection of the body.
What was my surprise, when I saw you move, and walk across the
floor! ... Even your dress, altering its folds with the rhythm of
your step, becomes mysterious, like the sea--floating, as it were,
with life itself. ... Only that fleeting sparkle from your eyes as
you roll them upward ... Or when you are lying down, and you
stretch your foot out--so supple, that the tension on your arch
makes your instep seem higher ... And then your everlasting
vivacity: when you laugh, the air seems to float with tiny fairies
... I love you, Kristrun, only you, you, you. [Kristrun still
gazes into space, dreamily. Ingolf reaches hesitatingly for her
hand; discreetly, she withdraws it.]
INGOLF [gets up]. Did you lie to me, Kristrun? The other night,
when I told you, without speaking, for the first time, just as
plainly as now with words, that I loved you: we heard footsteps,
you ran away, you turned around and kissed me, and disappeared--
did this sweet kiss then lie, was it only a moment's impulse that
played with a sacred feeling?
KRISTRUN. It was not, Ingolf.
INGOLF. But--?
KRISTRUN. It was a moment's impulse that played with a moment's
impulse.
INGOLF. Perhaps for you, but not for me.
KRISTRUN. I thought your silent confession that evening was
sincere. The next day, I overheard a conversation between you and
Hrafnhild, you didn't know I was there. Perhaps she has noticed
the change in you. She used her voice, her intelligence, her
beauty, her whole appeal, to get your caresses. And she got them,
many and warm.
INGOLF. You yourself say that I have changed. You yourself say
that I love you.
KRISTRUN. I myself say that you must choose between us.
INGOLF. My heart has chosen, Kristrun. And now my hand chooses.
[He slowly takes the ring off his finger.] Are you satisfied now?
KRISTRUN. Why do you ask so sadly? Do you do this half-heartedly?
... I don't know whether I can trust you. Only yesterday, when she
called you away from me, my heart throbbed with joy. The air about
me sang: It is you he loves! But after a while, when she came out,
she passed me with a look of supremacy in her eyes. I saw it, I
saw it ... you are completely in her power.
INGOLF. Before the sun sets to-night, you will have to take back
those words.
KRISTRUN. I fear the strength of her words when she pleads her own
cause. It is as though she could charm you into her power by some
magic. Do you know what she did yesterday? She came up to me
afterwards, and tried to arouse my anger, and so sure was she of
her victory, that she gloried in it. She said that I could flirt
with any one I wanted--she held the love of the finest man in
Iceland.
INGOLF. Now do you think she said it because she was so sure?
KRISTRUN [does not answer]. "SHE held the love of the finest man
in Iceland! ..." Do you love me, Ingolf?
INGOLF. You don't need to ask, Kristrun.
KRISTRUN. Do you love me?
INGOLF. I love you.
KRISTRUN [runs to the chaise-longue, and throws herself upon it;
she sobs audibly].
INGOLF. What is the matter with you, Kristrun?
KRISTRUN. Why don't you take me in your arms?
INGOLF. Now I am--Do you still doubt? I lived behind a dark, dark
wall. Through a crack in the wall a streak of light came in. I
loved this streak. Then one day the wall tumbled down, and I
bathed in a white sea of sunshine. Now I see that I only cared for
Hrafnhild because of the natural likeness between you.
KRISTRUN. Do you think I would ever have let you suspect that I
cared for you, if I did not know that you had stopped loving
Hrafnhild. I began to care for you a long time ago, Ingolf. When I
saw how happy Hrafnhild was, it seemed to dawn upon me how
splendid you are. Every one envied her. You can imagine how I
tried to crush my love. But it grew stronger each day,--it grew
like a thorn into my heart. Yet, that did not matter. As long as I
knew you loved Hrafnhild, I felt a greater obligation to my sister
than to my love. But not any longer. Even were I to sacrifice all
now, what would she gain, since you don't care for her?
INGOLF. I'll try to break off our engagement as gently as
possible.
KRISTRUN. You promised to do it, before the sun sets to-night.
INGOLF. Surely, when I tell her I don't love her, she won't try to
hold me any longer.
KRISTRUN [looks at him suspiciously. In order to evade her glance,
he bends over and takes her in his arms].
INGOLF. I will raise you, slowly and carefully, like a cup brimful
of intoxicating wine. [Kisses her a long time. Raises her up. They
hear footsteps outside, and listen.]
INGOLF. It is Hrafnhild. [Loosens his embrace.]
KRISTRUN [throws her arms around his neck, and clings to him]. Why
don't you want her to see?
INGOLF [trying to free himself]. You are not so heartless,
Kristrun!
HADDA PADDA [opens the door. In her hand, she has a bouquet of
violets, freshly gathered. A subdued smile lights up her face. As
soon as she looks in, her features become distorted with horror.
She takes half a step backwards, holding her hand before her eyes,
as if to ward off a blow. A feeble cry, filled with pain, as if
torn by force from the throat is expressed in the word No!]
KRISTRUN. It is I you love! It is I you love!
INGOLF [tears himself away]. Let me talk to Hrafnhild alone.
Hadda Padda stands motionless in the doorway, so that Kristrun has
to pass her.
INGOLF. May I close the door and talk to you? [Hadda Padda moves
within the door frame, and leans against it.]
INGOLF. Hadda, you have seen now that I am no longer worthy of
your love.
HADDA PADDA. I have seen nothing. [Throws the bouquet on the
table, and sits down on the chaise-longue, with her face turned
toward the window.]
INGOLF. Don't say that, Hrafnhild. Even forgiveness demands
return, and I cannot return yours.
HADDA PADDA [_Her whole frame trembling_].
INGOLF. I didn't think you could mistake my attitude these last
few days. [_Both keep silent._]
INGOLF. But now-? from to-day on, you must try to forget me.
HADDA PADDA [_gets up_]. Forget--? why should I forget my lover?
INGOLF. Because he cannot be your lover any longer.
HADDA PADDA. Yes, he _can_; he promised. He promised to love me
all my life.
INGOLF. He did not know what he promised.
HADDA PADDA [_sees Ingolf's hand without the ring, grasps it with
horror, whispers_]. What have you done?--Ingolf, it cannot be
true. It is not she you love. I saw you push her from you, when
she clung about your neck. Say she told you a lie, when she cried.
Only say something--say that suddenly an earthquake came, and she
threw herself in your arms from fear. I'll believe you.
INGOLF [_shakes his head._]
HADDA PADDA. Ingolf, how could you be so hard? [_Hides her face._]
Any other, any other.?-But _she!_ [_Weeps bitterly._]
INGOLF. It is not that, Hrafnhild. Now let us talk calmly. Even if
you could, would you continue to be tied to a man who does not
love you any longer?
HADDA PADDA. She has separated us. _She_ has caught you in the net
of her wantonness. You, too, Ingolf, you, too. ... When I looked
at you, you could see my love in my eyes. But she, she looked at
you through a veil of wantonness, so that your imagination might
create what it liked behind it--? was that what attracted you? I
gave you all that I had. She took back with the left hand what she
had given with her right--was that what attracted you? Ingolf, do
you value such a character? Don't you know how she is? I know you
think she loves you. So she has told them all. Her love is a
remorseless beast of prey. She does not even spare her sister,
though she knows you are the only man I ever loved. But she MUST
have this triumph--this one, too. Are you going to yield to it?
INGOLF. You are mistaken, Hrafnhild. It is not she who parts us. I
feel that even if she did not exist, I could no longer love you as
before.
HADDA PADDA. Haven't I seen you in each other's arms? Had it been
any one else, Ingolf, any one else, I might have tried to bear it;
but SHE, in YOUR arms, that thought I cannot endure... I have no
enemy but her. The blood that flows in her veins deceives. It
understands the secrets of kinship, and knows what weapons can
beat me. ... She was but a little girl when I saw the smile of the
conqueror in her look, if she felt that young men who called on us
paid her greater attentions than me. But it did not touch me. I
was no rival. In my heart, there was only place for you. Don't you
see what life would be for me, should she triumph now, too.
INGOLF [keeps silent.]
HADDA PADDA [kneels down, grasping his knee]. Ingolf, for nine
years have I run up the stairs at home, just as you did, on the
day you went away--two steps at a time.
INGOLF. Get up, Hrafnhild. [He moves a step nearer to the door.
Hadda is dragged along on her knees.]
HADDA PADDA [strokes her hand over his knee]. Ingolf, Ingolf,--
INGOLF [takes a step back]. Get up, Hrafnhild.
HADDA PADDA. Ingolf, I laid bare my love, to clothe yours. I did
it, so that no one could take you from me. Do you remember when I
gave you all a woman can give? The past closed behind me, and I
was a different being. I took your head in both my hands. "Now you
must always be kind to me," I said. "Always," you said. You are
not kind to me now, Ingolf. Had you not stripped me of the only
support which a woman must have to bear life alone, I might have
been able to endure it. But you have awakened passions hidden in
me, from the very depths of my nature. Whenever you were away,
they cried out for you with voices like children.
INGOLF. Stop, Hrafnhild. I gave you my word, it is true; but since
I no longer care for you, will you still hold me to an old promise
that was made when I loved you? HADDA PADDA [gets up]. Not an old
one, Ingolf. You aren't telling the truth now. [Pointing out of
the window.] Is it old, the water that flows down the river?
Hasn't every day we have lived together been a renewal of this
promise?