Books: Hadda Padda
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Godmunder Kamban >> Hadda Padda
INGOLF. Maybe, but one day the water stopped flowing.
HADDA PADDA. Now you have spoken the terrible truth. Your love was
not rich enough, and you knew it from the first. You are not
deceiving me to-day. You deceived me the day you made me believe
that you loved me, but you were not strong enough to be sincere.
You felt that the burning love of a devoted woman would give you a
new spirit; that is why you betrayed me. [Sinks bending over the
table, bursting into tears.]
INGOLF. You accuse yourself with these angry words. Why did you
accept this insincerity for so long?
HADDA PADDA. Because I saw it too late. My soul was spirited up
into the mountain, so that no disappointment could take me from
you. But so it was. Often when you were satiated with pleasure,
you failed to show me any regard. What could I do? Nothing but
continue to believe that I would keep your love alive by the
strength of my own. I know now, why you didn't dare to meet my
look openly. Ingolf, you knew from the beginning, that you might
meet a woman you could love more, but meanwhile you took me,
intending to turn from me when that time came. [Weeps.] If only I
had never known you.
INGOLF. I remember a great many times--you said that you didn't
understand how rich life was before you knew me, and that whatever
fate would be, you would never regret having given yourself to me.
Now I know how sincerely you meant those words.
HADDA PADDA. You don't hear how cruel your words are.--I know,
Ingolf, I said it. I said it when I couldn't control my tongue for
gladness. But we never know ourselves until we stand on the edge
between joy and sorrow, and now, having touched happiness, I
cannot live without grasping it. I cannot, Ingolf, I cannot live
without you.
INGOLF. Could you get any happiness out of life with a man who
does not love you?
HADDA PADDA [silent, gets up, and walks up to the piano, leaning
heavily against it].
INGOLF [takes out the ring, and puts it on the table].
HADDA PADDA [does not stir]. Ingolf, this is my last request.
Don't make our separation harder than necessary. I cannot remain
in your home when they all know it. Do me the favor of wearing the
ring till I leave for home. You won't have to wait long. Will you
promise me that?
INGOLF [holds the ring in his hand without answering].
HADDA PADDA. This is my last request.
INGOLF. I promise. [Puts the ring on his hand.]
HADDA PADDA [watches him as he puts it on].
CURTAIN
ACT III
(Slope of a valley overgrown with brush and heather and flowers.
Toward the rear on the left, a beautiful cataract rushes down from
a great height between steep cliffs. On the right, a rock shuts
out the bottom of the falls, and part of the river. In the
background is a mountainous landscape. It is an exquisite summer
evening and the sun is playing on the water in ever changing
colours. The stage is empty. From beneath the falls a song is
heard, even before the rise of the curtain.)
(A little before the song ends, Hadda Padda enters from the left,
accompanied by the children. She wears a light summer dress with a
chiffon scarf thrown over her shoulders. The children have come
prepared to gather berries. One has a wooden box, one a coloured
glass bottle half filled with berries, etc. They stop to listen
until the song is finished.)
MAGGA. Who was singing?
HADDA PADDA. The summer guests down at the falls.--Well, children,
hurry now and gather your berries. We'll be going home soon.
[Pointing to the right.] See that hollow? There must be lots of
berries in there. [Sits down on a stone.]
SIGGA. Aren't you coming along with us, Hadda Padda?
HADDA PADDA. No, you bring your berries back to me.
SIGGA [turning the bottle over in her palm]. Do you want some?
HADDA PADDA [staying her off]. No, no--not now.
DODDI. Oh, Hadda! I'll gather the bluest berries for you.
LITTLE SKULI. When _I_ come back I'll bring you berries and
flowers too.
MAGGA. You won't wait for us, Hadda Padda.
HADDA PADDA [_nodding assent--hand under cheek_]. No--no.
ALL THE CHILDREN. Aren't you going to wait for us?
HADDA PADDA [_with a start, recovering herself_]. Wait for you,
yes--yes, of course--do you think I would run away from you? I
will wait here till you come back. [_The children go off to the
right. Hadda remains seated for a moment, rises absent-mindedly,
walks to and fro thoughtfully, sometimes stumbling. Then she sits
down again, hiding her face in her hands._]
AN HERBORIST [_enters from the right. On her shoulder she is
carrying a canvas bag, half filled with herbs. She wears a knitted
shawl and a parti-colored kerchief on her head. In her hand, she
holds a large knife in a leather sheath_]. Good evening, young
lady!
HADDA PADDA [_startled_]. Good evening, Arngerd!
HERBORIST [_putting the bag aside_]. I seemed to recognise one of
the sisters. It is you they call Hadda Padda.
HADDA PADDA. I came berrying with the children.
HERBORIST. I saw them down in the hollow.--It is lucky to visit
the falls to-night.--I heard the song.--What a beautiful day!
[_Sits down_]--Just look at the evening glow on that rock!
[_Smiles._] Its furrows seem like ruddy smiling lips!
HADDA PADDA [_looking up_]. Like bleeding wounds.
HERBORIST. Is the young lady in low spirits?
HADDA PADDA [_keeps silent_].
HERBORIST [_looking at the slope_]. What a host of blessed
flowers! I'll soon get my bag filled here. There are some of the
right kind among them I'm sure.
HADDA PADDA. That is a pretty bag you have.
HERBORIST. I thought it an insult to the flowers to put them in a
coarse sack, so I took my pillow case.
HADDA PADDA. Are there only flowers in it?
HERBORIST. They are healing plants.
HADDA PADDA. That's true. You heal with herbs.... You believe in
their power?
HERBORIST. I believe in a fact that cannot be doubted. And I am
quite sure that there is no disease that could not be healed by
herbs, if people knew enough about their mysteries.
HADDA PADDA. There are wounds, I suppose, that only death can
heal.
HERBORIST [looking down into the bag, she takes out an herb]. I
think the young lady is very depressed, Shall I show her an herb
that can heal many ills?
HADDA PADDA. A lady-slipper?
HERBORIST. It is also called the love flower.... If you would gain
a man's heart you slip it under his pillow.
HADDA PADDA. Don't you see the ring on my finger? Don't you know
my sweetheart?
HERBORIST. Yes, certainly.--He was a handsome boy. [Plays with the
bag, as she hums.]:
"When love is the strongest, it leads to your fall, A maid's happy
longest, who heeds no man's call."
HADDA PADDA [drawing her scarf more closely around her]. Do you
hear the flies buzzing?
HERBORIST [looking deep down into the bag]. Yes.
HADDA PADDA. It is like the sound of a burning wick.
HERBORIST [does not hear].
HADDA PADDA. Now there is only one left.--It is buzzing around my
bead. [Putting her hand on the arm of the herborist.] Say
something to me, good healer.
HERBORIST. Pretty are her hands! Were they chapped or sore I would
heal them with yarrow ointment. [Taking up a yarrow.]
HADDA PADDA. Can that be done?
HERBORIST. Oh, yes, with finely cut yarrow, boiled in fresh new
butter. [_Puts the plant aside, picks up a dandelion._]
HADDA PADDA. What do you use the dandelion for?
HERBORIST. If the young lady had warts on her hands, I would rub
them with the milk of the dandelion, and the warts would vanish.
[_Takes up a new plant._]
HADDA PADDA. What do you call this flower?
HERBORIST. Doesn't she know the sun-dew? It is a cure for
freckles.
HADDA PADDA [_taking the flower_]. Ah! I know this.--You cruel
pretty little flower! With your beauty you lure the insects to
you. Then you close on them, and kill them. You cruel pretty
little flower! Do you know my sister? [_Puts the sun-dew aside._]
HERBORIST [_holding a new plant in her hand_]. This is the grass
of Parnassus. It makes a good hair-ointment.--Pretty is the young
lady's hair.
HADDA PADDA. You have dug up all the flowers by the roots.
HERBORIST [_pointing to the knife_]. I cut them up by the roots.
They must not lose their power. They are all alive.--Shall I tell
you more?
HADDA PADDA. Not now, thank you.
HERBORIST [_puts the flowers into the bag; points to the sky_].
Look how red the clouds are!--I think we'll have fine weather to-
morrow.
HADDA PADDA. Do you think so?
HERBORIST. Evening-glow means warm, morning-glow means storm.
HADDA PADDA [_is silent_].
HERBORIST. Why do you look at me so long?
HADDA PADDA. You have such a peaceful smile on your face. Are you
always so contented?
HERBORIST. I have no reason not to be.
HADDA PADDA. Have you never been discontented with life?
HERBORIST. Yes, when I deserved it. But when one is kind to every
one, life brings peace and happiness.
HADDA PADDA. Has kindness never taken revenge?
HERBORIST. Kindness does not take revenge. It is only evil that
takes revenge.
HADDA PADDA. Then you have been obedient to your fate?
HERBORIST. What I say is true, my girl. Life treats us as we
deserve. We cannot get rid of our past. Nature is a righteous
judge.
HADDA PADDA. Nature is heartless and blind.
HERBORIST. Nature IS a righteous judge. I shall never forget
something that happened thirty years ago. I lived at the sea-shore
then. One day, when I was washing fish with some other girls, we
saw a woman from the farm take her child by the hand and lead her
out to a jutting rock--when the flood tide came it took her. ...
HADDA PADDA [looking up].
HERBORIST. ... The case was brought before the judge. The mother
insisted that she had left the child on the ridge, and that it
must have walked down to the shore while she was gathering some
dulse. Each of us had to point out the spot where she had left the
child, but the mother pointed to the ridge. As she raised her
three fingers to swear that it was true, a wave rose, and out of
it shot a white column of foam. It stretched like an arm into the
air--like an arm with three swearing fingers. The sea itself swore
against her.
HADDA PADDA [A cold shiver runs through her. She draws her scarf
more closely around her]. It is so strangely cold here.
HERBORIST. The sun is going down. I had better be going. [The bag
upsets, and some plants slip out.]
HADDA PADDA. The dandelion is slipping out of the bag. Grant the
dandelion its life.
HERBORIST. I can't grant the dandelion its life. Perhaps to-morrow
a mother will come with her little girl. "Rid her of her warts,"
she will say, "for her hands are so fine." ...
HADDA PADDA [takes the dandelion in her hands]. Grant the
dandelion its life. Do you see how it stretches its thousand
delicate fingers to the fading light? If you plant it again, it
will close up and be silent a whole night with joy.
HERBORIST. You are silent and you don't smile--is it with joy?
HADDA PADDA. You must not ask me that.
HERBORIST. Smile, and I will grant the dandelion its life.
HADDA PADDA. Now I am smiling.
HERBORIST [thrusts her hand into the bag]. Tell me of your joy,
young woman. Each time you give an answer you grant a flower its
life.--
Of all things,--what is the softest you have ever felt?
HADDA PADDA. The hair on my cheek when my lover stroked it.
HERBORIST [taking a plant from the bag]. Now you have granted the
yarrow its life.--Tell me of your joy, young woman. What made your
hand so pretty?
HADDA PADDA. Happiness made my hand so pretty. It has smoothed
back the hair from the most beautiful forehead.
HERBORIST [taking out another plant]. Now you have granted the
catch-fly its life.--What cast the shade of sorrow in your eyes?
HADDA PADDA. Now you are not asking me of joy. Now I will not
answer.
HERBORIST [shows her a new plant, fondling the flower]. Why shall
the violet die?
HADDA PADDA. Do not ask me why the violet shall die. ... I want to
be alone.
HERBORIST [gets up, puts the bag on her shoulder, takes the knife
and flowers]. God bless thee, young woman! The Lord be with thee,
Hadda Padda. [Disappears to the left.]
[The sun sets behind the mountains and twilight gradually
descends. Hadda Padda sits gazing into space. Suddenly she is
startled by voices, and she disappears into the bushes. Native and
foreign tourists come from behind the rock, two by two, crossing
the stage, conversing. German and French are heard. Behind them
all, comes]
A YOUNG WOMAN [waiting till the others are gone, she calls]. Hadda
Padda! ... Hadda! ... Hrafnhild! [She shades her eyes with her
hand.] There they are! [Goes out to the right.]
[Ingolf and Kristrun enter from behind the rock.]
INGOLF [stops]. Look, there are the children gathering berries.
... Do you see Hrafnhild?
KRISTRUN. No, but I see Helga walking toward them.
INGOLF. I wonder if Hrafnhild is down in the hollow?
KRISTRUN. Perhaps she is.
INGOLF. We won't pass there then. Let's rest here for a moment.
[Sits down.]
KRISTRUN. You act as if Hrafnhild were still your sweetheart.
INGOLF. What do you mean?
KRISTRUN. I thought you wanted to show me the greater
consideration. But it is quite the contrary. Sometimes you are
positively hard to me, just to spare Hrafnhild every conceivable
annoyance.
INGOLF. Do you remember the day after--. When she walked around
trying to smile to every one. She was like a sick butterfly. You
didn't complain then that I was too considerate to her.
KRISTRUN [disregarding his remark]. You and she--you wear the
rings--you are the lovers in every one's opinion! And I have to
endure it.
INGOLF. You gave your consent for us to wear the rings till we
leave here.
KRISTRUN. My consent, yes! If it is a consent that you made me
pity her. I don't think she needs any pity now.
INGOLF. Yes, it is very strange,--to-day, to-day and yesterday she
has been tingling with joy.
KRISTRUN [sitting down]. Now you can see how deeply her love
touched her. After ONE week she's as though nothing had ever
happened.
INGOLF. Hrafnhild is proud by nature. She would never let it be
seen that an unfortunate love affair could make her miserable.
KRISTRUN. Yes, SHE is proud by nature, she is everything fine.--
And I--I am nothing. [Tears in her eyes.]
INGOLF. You are the loveliest woman in the world. [Embraces her.]
HADDA PADDA [appears between the bushes, seeing them she stops an
instant, then goes toward them]. I didn't know you were here.
INGOLF [gets up]. We have just come from the falls.
HADDA PADDA. And I was just gathering berries. Aren't my lips
blue? ... Why are you so silent, Runa, dear?
KRISTRUN [does not answer].
HADDA PADDA [in a changed voice]. I am going away to-morrow.
INGOLF. Going away to-morrow?
KRISTRUN. Going away--?
HADDA PADDA. I leave to-morrow. I'm going with Helga.--Let us part
friends.--I have only one thing to say to you before I go.
INGOLF. What is that?
HADDA PADDA. You may feel safe now. I won't be the shadow in your
sunny path. ... I don't love you any longer, Ingolf. [Ingolf and
Kristrun look at her amazed.]
HADDA PADDA. Nor do I bear you a grudge ... that is why I can tell
you this.
INGOLF. I always knew you were high-minded, Hrafnhild, but--
HADDA PADDA. And Runa, dear, won't we be the same friendly sisters
we have always been? [Strokes her hair.] Do you want to see that I
love you as much as ever? [Takes her hand.] Come, let me take you
in my arms.
KRISTRUN [bursting into tears, she throws herself into Hadda's
arms]. Hadda, dear--
HADDA PADDA [presses Kristrun violently to her breast].
KRISTRUN [throwing her head back]. Hadda, Hadda, you are hurting
me!
HADDA PADDA [lets go of her--turns to Ingolf]. And now I would
like to speak to you for a moment. May I?
INGOLF. Yes, certainly.
HADDA PADDA, Oh, there's Helga. She is looking for me, Runa, dear,
may I say a few words to Ingolf? You meet Helga, and start for
home with her, won't you?
KRISTRUN. I'll do that, Hadda. [Hurries away.]
HADDA PADDA [sits down]. I think I have discovered that you don't
really enjoy your new happiness. That is why I want to talk to
you.
INGOLF. You have told me all I want to hear.
HADDA PADDA [involuntarily frowning a moment]. It is strange how
proud the imagination can be, pretending to be a strong reality.
If I had really loved you at all, I would still. I do not. So long
as you were free, I made myself believe I had a certain claim to
you. But once you were engaged to any one else, the same thing
would have happened?--I should have forgotten you in a week.
INGOLF. You need not tell me this, I know it.
HADDA PADDA. What do you know?
INGOLF. I know that you deny your own heart for the sake of
others.
HADDA PADDA. Now you think too highly of both of us. I am not so
good as you would make me, and it is not so difficult to forget
you as you imagine.--You won't believe that I have succeeded in
forgetting you. Won't you believe, either, that I have made every
effort to do it? The day before yesterday I locked myself in my
room, and took out your letters to see whether I could bear to
read them. I wanted to test myself,--you know I like to get to the
very heart of things. Well, I read letter after letter. It is a
remarkable power that is given to a trivial matter. If I had not
read the letters, I might still have felt unhappy, but I read and
read with ever increasing calmness. I don't believe my feelings. I
go walking, searching for all the places where the earth must be
scorched with burning pleasures, in order to know whether they
enkindle memories so sacred that they can again inflame me.
Everything, everything, is extinguished. What is the matter,
little Hadda? Does everything leave you cold? Is this death
perhaps? And a mixed feeling of joy and pain seizes me, for this
came so unexpected--it came so unexpected--it came so unexpected--
INGOLF. What is the matter, Hrafnhild? Are you ill? You are so
excited. Why are you so eager to tell me all this?
HADDA PADDA. Because I don't want you to think I am making any
sacrifice. You think so, but I am not.
INGOLF. I understand.
HADDA PADDA. No, you don't understand. There was still one place
where I was afraid to go, because it meant more to me than any
other. I grasped my heart with fear, and there I seemed to find
the place. It was the Angelica Gorge,--where you had put your life
in my hands. I was afraid that if I went there, I would instantly
lose the peace of mind I had gained. But if I could not bear that,
then this peace was nothing but an illusion. I wanted to be
sincere with myself--so I went up there last night.
INGOLF. We saw you walking up the mountain.
HADDA PADDA. I lay down on the edge of the cliff and looked down
into the depth from which I had seen you come up. "Little heart,"
I said, "try to be calm while I am tormenting you: Here it was
that he raised himself up on the rope _I_ held. Here it was that
he showed me how well he loved me." But instead of feeling pain,
my whole frame quivered with trembling joy. Here, too, I had
conquered. Tears of gratitude came into my eyes, I stretched
myself farther out on the edge to make my tears of joy fall into
the chasm, down to the very bottom.--Do you see now that I am not
going to make a sacrifice. Now tell all this to Runa, for she
should know it too.
INGOLF [very much moved, throws himself at her feet]. When you
have risen I will kiss the ground your feet have marked.
HADDA PADDA. Then I shall never rise. ... Don't lie down like
that. Get up, Ingolf, INGOLF. I will lie down and forget. Let me
dream of death for one moment.
HADDA PADDA. Death! You who are happy!
INGOLF. Death is not unhappiness.
HADDA PADDA. Come, sit down again. I will tell you what death is.
Last night I was only a hair's breadth away from it.
INGOLF [starts, terror stricken, he half arises]. What are you
saying?
HADDA PADDA. When I lay there on the edge of the gorge, looking
down, something dazzlingly white flashed before my eyes. Quite
instinctively I reached out for it. It was as if my hands
perceived what it was, before my eyes had had time to make it
elear to me. It was the string of pearls which bad loosened from
my hair. I reached for it without considering how unsafely I was
lying there, when suddenly I felt myself slipping down. The
sensation cannot be described. While my right hand reached for the
pearls which were dropping down into the gorge, my left caught
hold of the turf on the brink. I was losing my balance and nothing
held me up but a few blades of grass. I felt my heart in my
throat, and a cold perspiration over my whole body. Now the grass
was giving way, now I clawed my fingers down into the earth and
dug my feet into it, but it was too hard; I tried to press my
knees down into the turf--nothing helped, I was slipping. Life or
death! To the right there was a stone. I let go of the grass, and
blindly swung my body to the right, my feet slipped beyond the
edge,--but my hands had caught hold of the stone. When I got to
the edge again, I lay in a stupour for a long time, and I did not
know whether I was at the bottom of the gorge or at the top.--
Never have I loved life as I do to-day.
INGOLF. How horrible! But what made you wear the pearls?
HADDA PADDA. It was foolish, but I don't know whether you can
blame me. One day, when I was almost melancholy, and I could not
talk to anybody, I was seized with an unconquerable home-sick
feeling. I yearned for mother, and felt how much I loved her. I
took the pearls out and looked at this precious heirloom, which
she had given me. I fastened it in my hair,--and immediately I
felt better. That was why I wore them the nest day too.
INGOLF. And now they lie at the bottom of the gorge!
HADDA PADDA. Yes.
INGOLF. What are you going to tell your mother?
HADDA PADDA. I won't tell her anything before I know whether they
will be found.
INGOLF. Have you asked any one to search for them?
HADDA PADDA. I just thought of asking Steindor, but I can hardly
bring myself to tell him,--if afterwards they should not be found.
INGOLF [A vague disquietude takes possession of him. He is silent
for an instant, then stares at Hadda, trying to read the influence
of his words upon her]. Well, you are going to-morrow, and the
very next day I will go down into the gorge and look for them.
HADDA PADDA. Will you really, Ingolf? And not tell Runa that I
lost them? Mother must not know that I have treated the pearls so
carelessly.
INGOLF. I won't tell any one.
HADDA PADDA [looking at him with wide-opened eyes]. I'd like it
even more if you would do it before I left. If you looked for them
to-morrow morning while I am getting ready to go. Then you'd spare
me the anxiety. Take Steindor with you, will you?
INGOLF [gets up. All doubt leaves his mind as he looks into her
face and he is ashamed of the unworthy suspicion that had touched
his soul]. Yes, Hrafnhild, don't be distressed. We shall find your
pearls.--Aren't you coming with me?
HADDA. PADDA. No, I will wait for the children.
INGOLF. Good-night, Hrafnhild. [Goes.]
HADDA PADDA. Good-night. [Looks after him for a long time. Her
eyes fill with tears, and she throws herself down weeping
violently. Soon the voices of children, laughing, are heard near
by. She looks up, passes her hand over her eyes, hears the
children's footsteps and lies down again as if asleep.]
THE CHILDREN [enter. In addition to the berries, each of them
carries a bouquet of flowers].
LITTLE SKULI. She's asleep. [He takes his bouquet, and those of
the others, placing them around her head.]
The children sit down quietly, eating their berries.
CURTAIN
ACT IV
(A deep gorge viewed from the side, its walls running obliquely
down from right to left. The upper end of the outer edge merges
into the mountain slope, which shuts out the view to the left. It
is foggy. On the left, as the fog lifts, a waterfall glistens in
the distance, like a broad white streak in the air. The sides of
the gorge are abruptly terminated by a cliff, the top of which is
grass-grown. Here, Ingolf and Steindor are sitting. Beside them is
a long rope.)
STEINDOR. Just look how it is drizzling! ... I can write on my
clothes. [Forms letters on his sleeve.]
INGOLF [strokes his finger along his sleeve]. My suit just matches
the drizzle.
STEINDOR [is silent].
INGOLF [is aroused, as from a reverie]. Are you rested?
STEINDOR. Oh, very nearly.
INGOLF. You should have let me pull you up. It is too tiring to
raise oneself.
STEINDOR. I have been lowering myself into this gorge for fourteen
years now, to get angelica, and always without help. This is no
height at all.
INGOLF. How high do you think it is?
STEINDOR. Only half a rope-length.
INGOLF. How long is a rope-length?
STEINDOR. A hundred and twenty feet.
INGOLF. Have you lowered yourself that far?
STEINDOR. I guess even a little more. One summer on the Westmen
Isles, I went down three rope-lengths, for fowl; but then, I tied
the rope around my waist, and took a stick along, to push myself
off from the rock, so that the rope wouldn't turn.
INGOLF. The rope turned round with me before.
STEINDOR. Only practice can prevent it.