SCENE VI. ON THE ICE OF THE LAKE

FIRST SCENE

_A hill pasture in Dalecarlia. A hut of rough-hewn boards, painted red, Stands at the left. Beside it grow two birches with trunks that are white clear down to the ground_.

_On the right-hand side appears a sloping hillside covered with spruces. The hillside is cut by a large brook forming a waterfall. At the foot of it is a tarn covered by water-lilies. The background shows a big lake bordered by blue hills. A church is visible across the lake_.

_A grindstone set in a wooden frame stands in the foreground by the corner of the hut_.

_It is Sunday evening, about sunset time_.

KERSTI'S MOTHER _sits on a wooden block outside the hut, smoking her pipe_.

KERSTI _enters with an alpenhorn in her hand. She stops in front of her_ MOTHER.

MOTHER. Where have you been all this time, daughter?

KERSTI. In the woods, mother.

MOTHER. Picking strawberries, I suppose. Your lips are so red.

KERSTI. Why did you call me, mother?

MOTHER. The woods were full of noises, child, and of stealthy footfalls. Could it be the bear?

KERSTI. Can't tell.

MOTHER. I thought I heard the strokes of an axe, but maybe I was mistaken.

KERSTI. The bear uses no axe, mother.

MOTHER. Why dressed up in your best, daughter?

KERSTI. It's Sunday, mother.

MOTHER. There is milk on your tucker, child. Have you been milking May-dew or Starbright?

KERSTI. Could I but milk the stars--and the moon, O!

MOTHER. While it's night, O!

KERSTI. Day and night!

MOTHER. Night and day!--Yes, I know! Beware of the bear!

KERSTI. Do you think he would tear my pet cow?

MOTHER. Have you lost her?

KERSTI. Shall I ask Anna?

MOTHER. You had better!

KERSTI. [_Picks up her alpenhorn and sounds a melody; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 1. _Then she sings; see Melody No_. 2]

"Too-la-loo, Ann at Boorness! Do you see my cosset cow Over there at your place?"

MATS. [_Answering from a distance in a dear tenor voice; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 3]

"Too-la-loo, so I do. Come at once: Cosset cow is here now!"

MOTHER. What a deep voice Anna has got!

KERSTI. She has been calling her cows since the sun began to set.

MOTHER. What do you hear down there in the valley, child?

KERSTI. The big bell of the cow, the low bell of the goat....

MOTHER. Oh, no!

KERSTI. I can hear the cock crowing and the dog barking, the gun banging and the cart clanking, and the oars saying "duck-duck" in the rowlocks.

MOTHER. Whose cock do you mean, and whose dog?

KERSTI. The miller's.

MOTHER. What's his name? Is it Anna?

KERSTI _looks embarrassed and does not answer_.

MOTHER. What do you see down there in the valley?

KERSTI. The water-wheel in the mill-race, the smoke from the chimney....

MOTHER. Whose chimney? The mill-folk's, I suppose?

KERSTI. It's growing dark, mother.

MOTHER. I _am_ going--before it grows still darker! [_She rises to her feet_] This has been the longest Sunday in all my life!--What kind of a smell is that?

KERSTI. I smell the woods; I smell the cattle; I smell the hay.

MOTHER. No, it was tattle-berries you were picking! [_For a while she stands still, lost in thought; then she sings; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 4]

"The joy that was mine Has been turned into woe!"

KERSTI. It is growing dark, mother!

MOTHER. So I see, daughter mine. The darkness is coming down on us heavy as a pall, and downward goes my path now--ever downward! But you must stay to watch the curds. And trust me to see if you let the fire go out.

KERSTI. Trust me to see that the fire won't go out, mother.

MOTHER. Good night, then. And don't forget your evening prayers!

KERSTI. Good night, mother.

MOTHER. "The joy that was mine has been turned into woe!" Don't forget your evening prayers!

[_She goes out to the left_.

KERSTI _opens the door of the hut. A big pot is seen hanging over the fire, on which she puts more wood; coming out again, she looks around to make sure that her mother is gone; then she picks up the alpenhorn and sounds another wordless melody on it. [See musical appendix, Melody No_. 5.]

MATS. [_Is heard singing outside, on the right-hand side; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 6]

"Kersti dearest, Kersti dearest, Baby sleeps in the forest."

KERSTI. [_Answers in the same way; see Melody No_. 7]

"Dillery-dell! Fareth he well, Fareth he well Far in the forest?"

MATS. [_Answers as before; see Melody No_. 8]

"Nothing to fear! Nothing to fear! Baby sleeps in his cradle here, Far, far, in the forest!"

KERSTI. [_Singing; see Melody No_. 9]

"Haste to the house and milk the cows, And see that baby lacks nothing. I cannot come, must stay at home, Helping my folks with the baking."

MATS. [_Answers as before; see Melody No_. 10]

"Birches nod in the blowing breeze, But baby slumbers in perfect peace, Kersti, Kersti, dearest!"

_A strong wind springs up. The centre of the stage grows dark, but the sun is still shining on the tops of spruces on the hillside_.

_Very faintly at first, then more and more clearly, the yells and cries of a gang of game beaters are heard. These are followed by the snapping of branches, the baying of hounds, the trampling of horses in trot and gallop, the cracking of guns, the snarling of rattles, the crashing of trees that fall, and, above all, the constantly rising roar of the waterfall_.

_Finally a canon is sounded by ten hunting-horns, the first horn repeating its theme while the rest join in one by one. [See musical appendix, Melody No_. 11.]

_Badly frightened_, KERSTI _stands staring in every direction while the noise lasts. When it has died away in the distance and the woods are silent again, she brings bunches of spruce branches and spreads them on the ground, covering them at last with a brightly coloured rag carpet. Next she fetches two young spruce-trees that have been stripped of branches and bark, so that only their tops remain green. These she places beside the door of the hut, one on either side. Then she goes to the tarn and picks a number of white water-lilies, which she binds into a wreath_.

MATS _enters from the left, carrying a baby in a cradle of leather with straps attached to it_.

KERSTI. Baby, baby darling! Is he still asleep?

MATS. Indeed he is!

KERSTI. Bring him here, and we'll let the trees rock him.

_They hang the cradle between the two birches that are swayed gently by the wind_.

KERSTI. [_Humming_] "Birches nod in the blowing breeze, but baby slumbers in perfect peace.".... Did you hear the hunt, Mats?

MATS. No hunt at this time of day, girl!

KERSTI. But I heard it!

MATS. Hardly!--What did your mother have to say?

KERSTI. She bothered me until I thought she would bother the life out of me.

MATS. Yes, dear, there can be no peace or happiness for us until our union has been hallowed and our baby baptised.

KERSTI. As long as the old folk resist there can be no wedding. But we must pray the Lord to bless our union before we give baby a name.

MATS. So we have agreed, and now it may as well be done.

KERSTI. Everything is ready, as you see.

MATS. It's well done, but--we're a sorry couple for all that, and a sorry wedding we're having.

KERSTI. Let the Lord look into our minds and hearts, and if they hold no evil--what matters the rest? Have you brought the Book?

MATS. I have. But are you sure, dear, that what we mean to do is not sinful?

KERSTI. Why should it be? Don't you know that the midwife can baptise in case of need?

MATS. Well, that's the midwife!

KERSTI. [_Putting the wreath on her head_] Let us begin!

MATS. In the name of the Lord! And may we never come to regret it! [_They kneel on the carpet, facing each other_; MATS _takes out a ring, which they hold between them while he is reading out of the prayer-book_] "I, Mats Anders Larsson, take you, Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter, to be my wedded wife, whom I will love in good days and bad, and in token thereof I give you this ring."

KERSTI. "I, Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter, take you, Mats Anders Larsson, to be my wedded husband, whom I will love in good days and bad, and in token thereof I give you this ring."

_They pray in silence for a while; then they rise and take hold of each other's hands, but they do not kiss each other_.

MATS. Now you are mine in the sight of God, dear, and after this we won't mind what people may say.

KERSTI. That remains to be seen.

MATS. And what have we to eat, dear.

KERSTI. Nothing at all, Mats.

MATS. Then there is nothing left but to smoke.

_They seat themselves on two small, three-legged stools and we flint and steel to light their pipes_.

MATS. [_When they have smoked a while in silence_] What was that you said about the hunt just now?

KERSTI. I haven't the heart to tell, Mats. I haven't the heart since I guessed what folk they were.

MATS. Better not, maybe!... Look at the cradle--going as if it could rock itself.

KERSTI. That's the wind, Mats; the wind in the birches.

MATS. But there is no wind in the spruces over there.

KERSTI. So I see. Surely the evil ones are abroad to-night.

MATS. Don't talk of them!

KERSTI. Do you see my smoke going northward?

MATS. And mine southward!

KERSTI. The gnats are dancing....

MATS. Which means a wedding....

KERSTI. Do you think we are happier now?

MATS. Hardly!

KERSTI. Do you hear the cry of the blackcock?

MATS. A sure sign of wedding....

KERSTI. But not a single church bell to be heard MATS. It's Sunday, and the ringing during the day has made them tired What shall we call the little one?

KERSTI. [_In wild rebellion_] Burden and Ill-luck and Un-asked and crown-thief....

MATS. Why crown-thief?

KERSTI. Because and because and because Even if we get a real wedding, I can wear no crown! What should he be called? Bride-spoil, Mother-woe, Forest-find!

MATS. Badly fares who badly does!

KERSTI. Yes, that's for you to say!

_The_ MOTHER _of_ KERSTI _appears on the hillside among the spruces and stands looking at_ MATS _and her daughter_.

MATS. There are evil eyes about!

KERSTI. And evil thoughts.... What you brew I have to drink. What you grind I have to bake.

_The_ MOTHER _disappears_.

MATS. Can you tell what made our families hate each other so fiercely?

KERSTI. It had to do with land--with bought favours, and ill-gotten gains, and corrupt judges, and--everything that's bad, bad, bad!

MATS. And then the hatred turned into liking, love, lust....

KERSTI. All of it poisoned....

MATS. How dark it turns when the hatred breaks through!

KERSTI. [_Throwing her wreath into the tarn_] Well may you say so! The devil take the wreath, as I can't have a crown....

MATS. Don't say that!

KERSTI. We hold wedding like beggars, and rascals, and roving folk.... What is it you cannot eat or drink, but that tastes good for all that? It's tobacco--and that's all you get for a wedding-feast! The fire under the kettle is going out, Mats. Go and fetch some wood. It's all the dancing there will be.

MATS. If tokens tell the truth, you were born to be a queen!

KERSTI. Maybe! Surely not to milk the cows!

MATS. And the baby, the baby, the dear little thing!

KERSTI. The poor dear! Oh, what will become of us? What can be in store for us? Get some wood, Mats! Mother will beat me if the milk doesn't curdle. Go, Mats!

MATS. There was a time when you served my father, KERSTI, and now it's my turn to serve you. Because he was harsh to you, I'll be good to you!

KERSTI. Yes, Mats, you are good, but I am not. If I only were!

MATS. Try to be!

KERSTI. Try to be bad, Mats, and we'll see if you can.

MATS. You don't mean it!

KERSTI. Who can tell?--Get away from here, Mats, and hurry up! Somebody is coming. I know her steps. It's mother!

MATS. Your mother?--And how about the baby?

KERSHI. [_Picks up the carpet and throws it across the cradle; then she takes her sheepskin coat that has been hanging on the outside wall of the hut and spreads it on top of the carpet_] Go, go, go!

MATS. Be careful about baby--be careful now!

[_He goes out_.

KERSTI. Of course, of course!

MOTHER. [_Entering from the left_] Was it Anna that was here?

KERSTI. It was.

MOTHER. [_Looking hard at_ KERSTI] And she left when I came?--What a voice she has!

KERSTI. Yes, has she not?

MOTHER. And she cut the wedding poles, too, and spread the spruce?

KERSTI. What is strange about that?

MOTHER. [_Pulling_ KERSTI _by the hair_] Storyteller, hussy, strumpet....

KERSTI. [_Raising her hand against her_ MOTHER] Take care!

MOTHER. Will you lay hand on your own mother, you trull? Is that what Mats has been teaching you? His father drove us from house and home, and now you take the son in your arms, daughter mine.... O!

KERSTI. That such things can be said.... O!

MOTHER. [_Pointing to the cradle_] What have you there?

KERSTI. Clothes to be aired.

MOTHER. Small ones, I guess.

KERSTI. Not so very.

MOTHER. And inside the cradle?

KERSTI. Small wash--not for small ones.

MOTHER. The child is there!

KERSTI. What child?

MOTHER. Yours!

KERSTI. There is no such thing!

MOTHER. Will you swear?

KERSTI. I swear! May the Neck get me if I lie!

MOTHER. You shouldn't swear by the evil one.

KERSTI. I will swear by no one else!

MOTHER. [_Seating herself_] There is talk in the village.

KERSTI. Indeed?

MOTHER. A queer sort of talk.

KERSTI. No, really?

MOTHER. They say that Mats is to have the mill.

KERSTI [_Rising_] Is it true?

MOTHER. As true as it is that rashness always gets into trouble.

KERSTI. So Mats gets the mill? Then he will marry, I guess?

MOTHER. They talk of that, too.

KERSTI. Whom do you think?

MOTHER. Whoever it be that his fancy will take--the crown she must surely be able to wear.

KERSTI. Oh!

MOTHER. Oh, indeed!--There is gold on your finger.

KERSTI. There is.

MOTHER. Are you pledged?

KERSTI. I am.

MOTHER. And the crown? [KERSTI _does not reply_] Have you lost it?

KERSTI. [_Walking back and forth restlessly_] You know, it was foretold that I should wear a crown.

MOTHER. Stuff and nonsense! A virgin's crown is more beautiful than a queen's. And happy is she who wears it with honour!

KERSTI. Oh!

MOTHER. And oh, indeed!--Little we had. Wrong we suffered. Badly we fared. Alas the day!

KERSTI. Little we had, but shall have plenty! Luck is near!

MOTHER. Race against race, hating and hated; fire and water: now it's coming to a boil.

KERSTI. Water may cool what the fire has heated. All will be well!

MOTHER. [_Rising to leave_] "The joy that was mine has been turned into woe." [_She goes toward the right_] There is a wreath floating on the water--where's the crown?

[_She goes out_.

KERSTI. It will come, it will come!

NECK. [_Appears at the foot of the falls surrounded by a bright, white light; he wears a red cap, and a silvery tunic fastened about the waist with a green sash; he is young and fair, with blond hair that is falling down his back; he has a fiddle of gold with a bow of silver, and plays to his own singing; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 12] "I am hoping, I am hoping that my Redeemer still liveth."

KERSTI. [_Who has been lost in thought, becomes aware of the_ Neck; _when he has repeated his song twice, she remarks sneeringly_] There is no redeemer for you, I can tell you!

_The_ NECK _pauses for a while and looks sadly at her; then he repeats the same song twice again_.

KERSTI. If you'll keep quiet I'll let you play at my wedding.

_The_ NECK _nods assent and vanishes into the rock behind the falls_.

MIDWIFE. [_Enters from behind the hut wearing a wide Hack cloak and a close-fitting black hood; she carries a bag under her cloak, and she is very careful never to let her back be seen_] Good evening, my dear. I hope my visit is not inconvenient.

KERSTI. You are the midwife--Mrs. Larsson--are you not?

MIDWIFE. Of course, I am. It was I that helped you, my dear....

KERSTI. Oh, yes; but you promised never to speak of it.

MIDWIFE. And we won't! How--is the little one doing?

KERSTI. [_Impatiently_] Oh, well enough!

MIDWIFE. Better not be too impatient, dear....

KERSTI. Who says I am?

MIDWIFE. The snappy voice and the tap of the little foot! But now there is gold on your finger, I see. Then I shall be asked to a wedding shortly, I think.

KERSTI. You?

MIDWIFE. I am always at the baptism, but can never get to a wedding--and I think it would be such fun!

KERSTI. No doubt it would!

MIDWIFE. Of all human virtues, there is one I value above the rest....

KERSTI. I don't suppose it is chastity.

MIDWIFE. What no one has, is beyond value. That which I put value on is gratitude.

KERSTI. You were paid, were you not?

MIDWIFE. There are services that money can't pay.

KERSTI. And people you cannot get rid of.

MIDWIFE. Exactly, my dear, and of those I am one....

KERSTI. So I find.

MIDWIFE. And there is another,

KERSTI. Who can that be?

MIDWIFE. The Sheriff!

KERSTI. [_Startled_] The Sheriff?

MIDWIFE. Yes, the Sheriff. He is a very remarkable man, and I have heard of no one who knows the law as he does, from cover to cover.... You and I could never get all that into our heads, but--there is one chapter I have to know by heart, being a midwife.... And a most remarkable chapter it is, with a most remarkable number of paragraphs.... What's the matter?

KERSTI. [_Agitated_] Tell me what you know.

MIDWIFE. Nothing at all I am nothing but a poor old woman who has come here to get lodging for the night....

KERSTI. Lodging here?

MIDWIFE. Right here.

KERSTI. Begone!

MIDWIFE. I can't be walking the woods in the dark of the night.

KERSTI. [_Threatening her with a stick_] If you won't walk, I'll make you run.

MIDWIFE. [_Moving back a couple of steps without turning about_] Have we got that far now? You had better leave the stick alone, or....

KERSTI. Or what?

MIDWIFE. The Sheriff, of course, and that chapter I spoke of....

KERSTI [_With the stick raised for a blow_] Go to the devil, you cursed witch! [_The stick breaks into small pieces_.

MIDWIFE. Ha-ha! Ha-ha!

KERSTI. [_Picks up the flint and steel, and strikes fire_] In the name of Christ and His Passion, get thee gone!

MIDWIFE. [_Turns and runs out with the galloping movement of a wild thing; her back, which then becomes visible, looks like that of a fox and ends in a sweeping, bushy tail; she hisses rather than speaks_] We'll meet at the wedding, bid or unbid! And the Sheriff, too! Ad-zee! Ad-zee! Ad-zee!

KERSTI _takes a few faltering steps in direction of the tarn, as if she meant to throw herself into the water_.

_Then she begins to walk up and down in front of the cradle. After a while she takes off the round Dalecarlian jacket she is wearing and puts it on top of the clothing already covering the cradle. Finally she sits down on one of the stools by the corner of the hut and buries her face in her hands_.

_The grindstone begins to whirl with a hissing sound. Little bells, like those worn by goats, are heard ringing in the woods. Little white flames appear among the spruces on the hillside. Cow-bells are heard dose by. The_ NECK _appears as before and sings the same song_.

KERSTI _rises horror-stricken and stands like a statue_.

_Tones like those produced by a harmonica are heard from the tarn. Unseen by_ KERSTI, _the_ CHILD IN WHITE _emerges from among the water-lilies and goes to the cradle. Then all sounds die out. The grindstone comes to a stop. The_ NECK _disappears. All the will-o'-the-wisps but one go out_.

_Still unseen by_ KERSTI, _the_ CHILD IN WHITE _rocks the cradle gently, puts his ear dose to it, and draws back with an expression of great sadness. At last he bursts into tears and covers his face with one arm. During this scene the beltlike tones from the tarn continue_.

_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _picks several water-lilies to pieces and strews them on the cradle, which he finally kisses before he descends into the tarn again. Then the last will-o'-the-wisp disappears and the harmonica can no longer be heard_.

MIDWIFE. [_Enters again, carrying her bag so that it can be seen_] Perhaps I shall be more welcome this time. Does the fair maiden care to see the midwife now?

KERSTI. What do you bring?

MIDWIFE. [_Taking a bridal crown from her bag_] This!

KERSTI. What do you take?

MIDWIFE. [_Pointing toward the cradle_] "You see it, I see it, the whole world sees it, and yet it is not there."[1]

KERSTI. Take it, then!

MIDWIFE. [_Goes to the cradle_] I have it. [_She takes stealthily something from the cradle and drops it into her bag, which she then hides under her cloak again_] Can I come to the wedding now?

KERSTI. Yes, come.

MIDWIFE. You must say that I'll be welcome.

KERSTI. That would be a lie.

MIDWIFE. You must practise....

KERSTI. Welcome, then--if you'll only leave me now!

MIDWIFE. [_Withdrawing backwards_]

"Four that whirl and twirl; Eight that hurl and purl; Four that flip-flap in a row; Four that question where to go."[2]

[_She disappears_.

MATS. [_Is heard singing triumphantly outside; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 13] "Come, cosset, cosset, cosset; come, cosset, cosset!"

_As_ KERSTI _hears him a happy look comes into her face, and she seems to swell with pride and new courage_. MATS _enters, with an armful of wood, looking joyful_.

KERSTI. [_Going to meet him_] Did you see anybody?

MATS. I did!--Now for the wedding! [_He dumps the wood into the hut_] Let the kettle boil over--I am boiling, too.

KERSTI. Was it your father?

MATS. Father and mother. And I get the mill!

KERSTI. [_Showing her crown_] Do you see what I...?

MATS. Where did you get it?

KERSTI. Mother brought it for me.

MATS. Has she been here?

KERSTI. Happy as anything!

MATS. But the baby, the baby!

KERSTI. Sit down, Mats! Sit down! You know I can always find a way!

MATS. [_Seating himself_] But the baby!

KERSTI. There now!--Listen! Now, when trouble is on the wane and life is smiling, don't you think a little patience might carry us very far....

MATS. If only the course be straight....

KERSTI. Of course, straight and short.

MATS. What are you after?

KERSTI. If the big fish is to be hooked, the small ones must be overlooked.

MATS. Can't you talk plainly?

KERSTI. Wait a little!

MATS. I am waiting.

KERSTI. The old folks make conditions.

MATS. Yes, I know.

KERSTI. They want a croton bride. What does that mean if not a bride that wears a crown?

MATS. And wears it with honour!

KERSTI. With or without! What no one sees and no one knows does not exist.

MATS. Let me think. [_He sits silent for a few moments_] All right! And furthermore?

KERSTI. To hook what's big, you must overlook what's less.

MATS. Which does not mean the little one!

KERSTI. Do you mean to prove false?

MATS. I don't! Not to you, Kersti!

KERSTI. Suppose now--the banns have been read, the wedding is under way, but the little one sleeps in the forest. Who will haste to the house, and milk the cows, and see that baby lacks nothing? Who, I ask?

MATS. Well may you ask! [_He broods a while_] If we only dared.... What was that you said?

KERSTI. Not a word.

MATS. It seems to me.... If we only dared....

KERSTI. What? Say it!

MATS. Say it yourself!

KERSTI. No, it's for you!

MATS. Somebody must take care of the little one.

KERSTI. Who?

MATS. There is only one.

KERSTI. Then it's easy to guess who!

MATS. Tell whom you mean.

KERSTI. No, you must tell.

MATS. Beside ourselves, there is only one who knows about the baby.

KERSTI. Who is that?

MATS. If you know, why don't you tell?

KERSTI. Because I want you to tell.

MATS. It's the midwife. Was that what you said?

KERSTI. I said nothing, but you did--and, as you know, I do what you say.

MATS. I have my doubts.

KERSTI. But what you said I have done already. The baby can't stay in the woods. It must have shelter when the nights grow cold. And if anything should happen, then comes--the Sheriff!

MATS. The Sheriff, you say? Yes, so he does!

KERSTI. [_Leaping to her feet_] Is he coming, you say?

MATS. Yes, if something should happen.... Well, where's the midwife to be found?

KERSTI. Would you like to call her?

MATS. I wish she were here!

KERSTI. And what do you want her to do?

MATS. Give the baby a home.

KERSTI. With whom?

MATS. With herself.

KERSTI. For how long?

MATS. Till the wedding is over.

KERSTI. But if he were taken sick while with her?

MATS. Better than have him freeze in the woods--better than have him freeze to death! Take a look at the cradle. I think I heard him!

KERSTI. No, he's asleep....

MATS. Hush--I heard him.

KERSTI. No, you didn't!

MATS. Yes, I did. [_He rises_.

KERSTI. [_Placing herself in front of the cradle_] Don't you wake him! If he should cry, somebody might hear.

MATS. Oh.... Do you think any one has--that your mother may have heard him? Oh, Kersti, we should never have done what we have!

KERSTI. Undone were better!

MATS. [_Dejectedly_] We must take him to the midwife to-night. I must go to the village.

KERSTI. I'll take him!

MATS. [_Going to the cradle_] Do!

KERSTI. But don't wake him!

MATS. Can't I bid him good night?

KERSTI. Don't touch him!

MATS. Think if I should never see him again!

KERSTI. Then it would be the will of Him whose will we cannot change.

MATS. His will be done!

KERSTI. Now you have said it!

MATS. What have I said that could please you like that?

KERSTI. That--that--you submit to the will of Him that performeth all things.

MATS. [_Simply_] Yes, whatever may happen is His will, of course.

KERSTI. Of course!

MATS. Good night, then, Kersti dear, and good night, baby! [_He goes out_.

KERSTI. Good night, Mats.

KERSTI _loosens the empty cradle from its fastenings and drops it into the tarn, from the waters of which the_ CHILD IN WHITE _rises to threaten her with raised forefinger. At the sight of him_ KERSTI _shrinks back._ NECK. [_Appears in the same spot as before, but now bareheaded and carrying a golden harp, on which he accompanies himself; he has a threatening look as he sings; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 20]

"Stilled are the waters, dark grows the sky: Dark grows the sky. Once in the world of the ages I lived, Blessed by the sun. Gone is the light, Conquered by night. Deep is my sin, Black as the tarn. Joy there is none; Plenty of woe. Torture and Shame must I name my abode: O!"

_While the_ NECK _is singing_, KERSTI _hides the bridal crown in the hid. Then she puts out the fire under the pot. As she does so, the smoke pours in large quantities from the chimney, forming a dark background against which appear fantastically shaped and vividly coloured snakes, dragons, birds, etc_.

_When_ KERSTI _comes out of the hut again, she has on a short Dalecarlian jacket and is carrying a bag and the alpenhorn. She locks the door of the hut and walks across the stage with proud bearing and firm steps just as the_ NECK _is singing the last line_.

_Curtain_.

[1] Old Swedish folk-riddle, the real solution of which is: the horizon.

[2] An old Swedish folk-riddle, the answer of which is: a carriage. The four lines describe respectively: (1) the wheels; (2) the hoofs of the horses; (3) their ears; (4) their eyes.

SECOND SCENE

_The living-room of the mill. Everything is covered by white dust. In the background, on the right-hand side, is an open trap-door, showing part of the water-wheel. The end of the flour chute, with a bag attached to it, is protruding from the right wall not far from the trap-door. Near it appears a lever used for starting and stopping the water-wheel._

_Large gates occupy the centre of the real wall. Heavy wooden shutters dose another opening farther to the left and half-way from the floor_.

_In the foreground, at the right, is a huge open fireplace, in which a coal-fire is burning. An iron pot is hanging over the fire. On the left-hand side appear a bedstead, a hand-loom, a bobbin, a red, and a spinning-wheel. There is a door in the right wall_.

_The following members of the family are seated in a circle in front of the fireplace: the_ GRANDFATHER; _the_ GRANDMOTHER; _the_ FATHER _and_ MOTHER _of_ MATS; _his sisters_, BRITA, _who is full-grown_, ANNA, _who is half-grown, and_ LIT-KAREN, _who is still a child; and his brother_, LIT-MATS, _who is also a mere boy. All are smoking out of small pipes with iron bowls and looking very serious_. BRITA _is plaiting a chain out of human hair_. LIT-KAREN _and_ LIT-MATS _are playing with two dolls_.

BRITA. [_To_ LIT-KAREN] Where did you get the doll?

LIT-KAREN. Kersti gave it to me.

BRITA. [_Taking the doll from her_] Away with it! [_To_ LIT-MATS] Where did you get your doll?

LIT-MATS. Kersti gave it to me.

BRITA. [_Taking the doll_] Out with it!

FATHER. Hush! Hush! Grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.

MOTHER. [_To_ BRITA] What are you doing?

BRITA. A watch-chain, but there is hardly hair enough.

MOTHER. Where can you get any?

BRITA. I know where it ought to be pulled.

MOTHER. Horses pull.

BRITA. Hens are picked, pigs give bristles, and maidens are combed.--Combed hair is good, but cut is better.

FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.

ANNA. [_In a low voice to_ BRITA] What is he thinking of?

BRITA. You'll hear by and by. And all will have to swallow.

ANNA. Is it about Mats? [BRITA _makes no answer_] And Kersti? Will there be a wedding?

FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.

ANNA. [_To_ BRITA] I'll give you some of my hair.

BRITA. Not the right colour.

ANNA. Who's got it? [BRITA _does not answer_] Is it Kersti you mean?

BRITA. Don't mention her. [_Silence_.

GRANDMOTHER. [_To_ GRANDFATHER] Have you thought it out?

GRANDFATHER. [_Who has been sitting with the Bible and the hymn-book in his lap, lost in thought, wakes up_] I have! [_He opens the hymn-book at haphazard and says to the others_] It is No. 278, the fourth verse: "All at birth and death." Let us have it!

ALL. [_Read in unison like children at school_]

"All at birth and death are equals, As the graveyard bones proclaim, Poor and rich and low and mighty In the end appear the same; And the naked new-born baby Brings no evidence to prove Whether poverty or fortune Will attend its fated groove."

GRANDFATHER. It is settled! "He that hath an ear, let him hear."--Is it settled?

GRANDMOTHER. Not yet.

FATHER. Not quite.

MOTHER. The Lord beholdeth!

BRITA. What does the Scripture, say?

ANNA. "Doth God pervert judgment, or doth the Almighty pervert justice?"

LIT-KAREN. What do you want me to say?

GRANDFATHER. You must give us your advice, child, although we may not take it. Out of the mouth of babes may come the truth.... Shall Kersti have Mats?

LIT-KAREN. If they want each other.

GRANDFATHER. Well spoken! [_To_ LIT-MATS] And you, Lit-Mats?

LIT-MATS. [_With his fingers in his mouth_] I want my doll!

GRANDFATHER. And Mats wants his. Shall he have her?

LIT-MATS. If it is Kersti, he may, for she gave me the doll.

BRITA. Listen to him!

GRANDFATHER. Let us search the Scripture. [_He opens the Bible and reads_] Genesis, thirty-fourth chapter and eighth verse. "And Hamor communed with them, saying, The soul of my son Shechem longeth for your daughter: I pray you give her him to wife." Is that enough?

GRANDMOTHER. Enough and to spare!

FATHER. There wasn't anything about the mill.

MOTHER. Let His will be done!

BRITA. [_Abruptly_] Amen.

ANNA. Verily, it shall be done!

LIT-KAREN. I like Kersti because she's nice.

LIT-MATS. Me, too!

FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.

GRANDFATHER. [_To_ FATHER] Ask your brother-in-law to come in.

_The_ FATHER _goes to the door in the background, where he stops_.

GRANDFATHER. [_Goes to the bed, pulls a box from under it, takes a bundle of papers from the box, and turns to the_ FATHER _again_] Let him come!

FATHER. [_Opening the door in the background_] Come in, Stig Matsson.

SHERIFF. [_Enters, dressed in uniform_] The peace of God be with you!

ALL. [_Rising_] And his blessing on you!

GRANDFATHER. It is I who have called you, Stig Matsson, and you know the reason. Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter--[_He sighs_]--is to become the wife of Mats Anders Larsson, my grandson. The two families have fought and fumed at each other for a long time--all too long! At this late hour I have come to feel that an end should be put to all strife and ill will before my eyes are closed and I am carried to my last rest. Take a look at these papers. [_He hands the bundle to the_ SHERIFF, _who opens it and glances at some of the papers_] They are legal documents, deeds, wills, receipts, authorisations--belonging to suits that have been settled or are still unsettled. Have you looked them over?

SHERIFF. I have.

GRANDFATHER. [_Takes back the bundle_] All right! Then I shall throw them into the fire. There is a time to hate and a time to love. The time of hatred must come to an end I am longing for peace. Therefore, I beg you, my next of kin, to regard all that has happened in the past as if it had not happened at all--and I ask you: Will you forget everything, and will you meet your new relatives without grudge or guile, and greet them as friends? Answer me!

ALL. We will!

GRANDFATHER. Then I shall let the fire consume what is left of past evils. [_He throws the bundle of papers into the fire, pulls the iron lid in front of the grate, and opens three small ventilators in the lid_] Let us be seated!

_All seat themselves in front of the fireplace, staring at the red glare from the three ventilators_.

ANNA. [_To_ BRITA, _in a low voice_] Do you hear it sing?

BRITA. No, it moans. And within me it's aching!

_The_ GRANDFATHER _rises. Then all the rest follow his example_.

GRANDFATHER. [_To the_ FATHER] Bring them in!

_The_ FATHER _goes to the door at the right and brings in_ MATS.

_The_ MOTHER _goes to the door in the rear and opens it_. KERSTI _enters, accompanied by her_ MOTHER, _her father, the_ SOLDIER, _who is wearing the old full-dress uniform of the Swedish infantry of the line, and her grandfather, the_ VERGER.

GRANDFATHER. May God bless you! And be seated, please!

_All seat themselves except_ MATS, KERSTI, _and the_ SHERIFF. MATS _has taken hold of_ KERSTI _by both hands. Long silence_.

GRANDFATHER. When is the wedding to be?

MATS. In a fortnight, as soon as the banns have been read the third time.

GRANDFATHER. What is the hurry?

KERSTI _shows evidence of being offended_.

MATS. Haven't we waited long enough?

GRANDFATHER. Maybe you have!

MATS. [_To his relatives_] Have you no word to say to Kersti? [_Pause_] Not one of you?

SHERIFF. [_Goes to_ KERSTI _and takes her by the hands with evident friendliness_] Let us welcome the new child!

_Panic-stricken_, KERSTI _tries to tear herself loose_.

SHERIFF. You are not afraid of me, are you?--Oh, no!--Look me in the face, Kersti. I have dandled you on my knees when you were a little child, and I have held your pretty head in my hands.... Yes, you have a very pretty head, and a forehead that makes me think of a bull. That's why you are having your own way now, I suppose.

[_He lets go of her_.

GRANDFATHER. Let us leave the young ones alone!

_Alt rise, walk past_ MATS _and_ KERSTI, _and disappear through the door in the rear_.

BRITA. [_Who is the last to leave, spits scornfully as she passes_ KERSTI] Fie!

MATS. [_Spitting in the same way_] Fie yourself!

KERSTI _and_ MATS _are left alone_.

MATS. I hope you will feel at home with me, Kersti!

KERSTI. With you, yes!

MATS. What have you to do with the others?

KERSTI. That's the question.

MATS. You are not marrying the family.

KERSTI. But into it.

MATS. Of course, we are not very soft or cuddlesome.

KERSTI. That's plain.... Is this the place where we are to live?

MATS. Yes, what do you think of it?

KERSTI. Everything is white....

MATS. It's the flour, you see. Do you object?

KERSTI. And damp....

MATS. It's the mill-race....

KERSTI. And cold, too....

MATS. It's the water....

KERSTI. Shall we have new furniture?

MATS. There will be nothing new. Everything is handed down from one generation to another.

KERSTI. But we can sweep, can't we?

MATS. No, we can't! The dust in a mill is like the coating in a pipe. Mustn't be touched!

KERSTI. Is that the wheel?

MATS. That's the wheel.

_He pulls the lever, whereupon the rushing of the water through the race is heard, and the wheel begins to turn_.

KERSTI. Ugh! Have we to listen to that noise?

MATS. It's ours! And we should be thankful as long as we hear it, because that means we have grist for the mill.

KERSTI. And the sun never gets here?

MATS. Never! How could it?

KERSTI. And nothing grows here--except that green stuff on the wheel.

MATS. But we catch eels here and lampreys.

KERSTI. Ugh! I like it better in the pasture, where the wind is blowing....

MATS. And the birches rock....

KERSTI. [_Covering her face with the apron and weeping_] Must I live in a place like this, beneath the water, at the bottom of the sea?

MATS. I was born here.

KERSTI. And here we are to die--O!

MATS. Why "O"?

KERSTI. Stop the wheel at least.

MATS. Well, if you can't get along with the wheel, then....

KERSTI. [_Opening a trap-door in the floor_] What's down here?

MATS. The river.

KERSTI. Please stop that wheel!

MATS. [_Labours with the lever, but is unable to stop the wheel]_ Well! There must be mischief abroad!--It won't stop!

KERSTI. I shall die here!

MATS. I must go outside to stop it! There is mischief abroad, I tell you!

KERSTI. And at home?

MATS. Oh, dear!

KERSTI. "Meow, said the cat."[1]

MATS. What is the matter?

KERSTI. Merely that I have got what I wanted.

MATS. And it was not worth having? [_The noise made by the wheel has become, deafening, and the wheel itself has begun to turn in the opposite direction_] Christ Jesus, help! The wheel is turning backward!

[_He runs out through the rear door_.

KERSTI _remains alone_.

_The handloom starts. The bobbin, the reel, and the spinning-wheel begin to turn, each one in its own manner. The stage becomes brightly illumined as if with sunlight. Then the room turns very dark. The fireplace swings around so that the glare from the ventilators confronts_ KERSTI _like three burning eyes. It looks as if the fireplace were chasing her. Then it drops back into its accustomed place. The roar of the water-wheel increases again. The_ NECK _appears in the wheel with the red cap on his head, and the golden fiddle in his hand. Be sings and plays as before, repeating the brief tune several times_.

NECK. "I am hoping, I am hoping, that my Redeemer still liveth!"

KERSTI. [_Running out through the rear door_] Mats, Mats!

_The_ NECK _disappears, but his song is still heard for a while, as it gradually dies away in the distance_.

MIDWIFE. [_Enters, opens the small trap-door in the floor, and drops her leather bag through it_] "If you come back, it's all off, and if you don't, it's all on!" Now that's done! And I shall dance at the wedding!

_She takes some dance steps, but without letting her back be seen. The hand-loom begins to rap in waltz time, accompanied by the bobbin, the reel, and the spinning-wheel. Then the_ MIDWIFE _disappears through the rear door, showing her back with the fox tail for a brief moment. The handloom, the bobbin, the reel, and the spinning-wheel keep right on as before_.

KERSTI _enters, and at once everything stops. A moment later the_ VERGER _enters_.

KERSTI. Is that you, grandfather?

VERGER. Yes, girl, I forgot something.

_He picks up a large leather bag which he dropped on the bed at his first entrance_.

KERSTI. What have you there?

VERGER. I come from the sacristy, and I am taking home the numbers to be polished.

KERSTI. What numbers?

VERGER. Those that show the hymns you are to sing, don't you know?

KERSTI. Let me see!

VERGER. [_Takes out of his bag a small black board, such as is found in every Swedish church; it has a number of nails on which are hung numbers made of brass_] Here you can see.... What's the matter, sweetheart?

KERSTI. I don't know, grandfather, but I think I should never have come here....

VERGER. What talk is that, child?

KERSTI. There is mischief astir in this house....

VERGER. Oh, mercy, no...; No, my dear....

KERSTI. Oh, oh, oh! Everything has grown so strange all of a sudden....

VERGER. But how is this going to end, Kersti?

KERSTI. Yes, tell me, tell me!

VERGER. I must go now, child. I must go back to the church and get the crown so I can send it to a goldsmith. It has to be cleaned with cream of tartar....

KERSTI. All right, grandfather....

VERGER. It is for your sake the crown is to be cleaned--for your own sake, don't you know?...

[_He goes out by the rear door_.

_The_ SOLDIER _enters immediately afterward_.

KERSTI. Is that you, father?

SOLDIER. Yes, it's only me. I want my chaco, which I left in here.

[_He picks up the chaco_.

KERSTI. Oh, father, father, I am so unhappy....

SOLDIER. [_Drily_] What has happened?

KERSTI. Nothing!

SOLDIER. Why should you be unhappy, then?

KERSTI. You don't understand!

SOLDIER. [_Brusquely, as he adjusts the chin-strap of the chaco_] Come to your senses, child!

KERSTI. Don't go, father!

SOLDIER. The sorrows of love pass quickly--Come to your senses is my advice. Do come to your senses! [_He goes out._

BRITA _enters_.

KERSTI. And what have _you_ forgotten?

BRITA. I never forget anything.

KERSTI. What are you looking for?

BRITA. You!

KERSTI. How kindly!

BRITA. Yes, is it not?

KERSTI. You hateful thing!

BRITA. You hussy!

KERSTI. You--sister-in-law!

BRITA. Who knows?

KERSTI. Are you telling my fortune, you witch?

BRITA. Yes--a rope!

KERSTI. Should not be mentioned in the house of a hanged man!

BRITA. [_Goes to the bag attached to the end of the flour chute_] Now I shall tell your fortune! You get the mill, and the grist will be accordingly. [_She takes from the bag a handful of black mould out of which she forms a small mound on the floor; then she says_]

"Vagrant women Grind for their men Meal out of mould As only food."[1]

KERSTI. A witch you are, indeed!

BRITA. Yes, and one who can find buried treasures! Perhaps you will let me find a little treasure for you?

KERSTI. Take care, you witch! Have you no shame? It's mortal sin you are practising now! You should be burned by fire, for I am sure you would float if thrown in the water!

BRITA. [_Taking a pinch of mould from the bag and pouring it on_ KERSTI'S _head_] To the dust I wed you, and a crown of dirt shall you wear, so that your shame may find you out!

KERSTI. Fie on you! Fie!

VOICE. [_Like that of a small child, repeats after her_] Fie!

KERSTI. Who was that?

VOICE. Who was that?

BRITA. Guess!--That was the Mocker!

KERSTI. Who is the Mocker?

VOICE. The Mocker!

BRITA. The Mocker is the Mocker. Don't you know the Mewler?

KERSTI. The Mewler, you say? What have I got to do with that one?

VOICE. With that one!

BRITA. The wages of sin is death!

KERSTI. [_Calling through the door_] Mats!

VOICE. Mats!

KERSTI. [_In despair_] Oh! Oh! [_She unfastens one of her red garters and ties it about her own neck_] Let me die! Let me die!

BRITA. You shall have your wish!

KERSTI. Hang me to a tree!

VOICE. To a tree!

BRITA. Not I!

MATS. [_Is heard singing outside_] "Kersti dear, is baby asleep?"

BRITA. "Far in the forest!" Fie on you! [_She goes out_.

MATS. [_Enters, looking very happy_] "Far, far, in the forest!" [_He comes up behind_ KERSTI _and puts his hands over her eyes_] Guess who it is!

KERSTI. Oh, you hurt me!

MATS. [_Taking hold of the garter which is still about the neck of_ KERSTI] What kind of necklace is this?

KERSTI. Let go!

MATS. [_Pulling playfully at the garter_] Now I have you! Now you are my prisoner, my dove, my goat that I bought for a groat! [_He leads her about by the garter_] My little white kid! My little pet cow! [_Singing_] "Come, cosset, cosset, cosset! Come, cosset, cosset!"

KERSTI. Yes, you can be happy, Mats!

MATS. I am, and guess why?

KERSTI. Can't any longer!

MATS. Because I met the midwife, and she brought word of the little one.

KERSTI. Did she?

MATS. She did! He's sleeping, she said, so quietly, so quietly.

KERSTI. Oh!

MATS. Far in the forest!--What's that in your hair?

KERSTI. Mould.

MATS. Have you been buried?

KERSTI. Yes, already!

MATS. [_Brushing the mould out of her hair_] Ugh! Who did that?

KERSTI. Can't you tell?

MATS. Brita with the evil eye?

KERSTI. Can't you blind it?

MATS. Not I! The only one who can is Jesus Christ!

_A church-bell sounds the call to even-song_.

KERSTI. Fray for me!

MATS. One must do that for oneself.

KERSTI. But suppose you can't?

MATS. You can if your conscience is clear.

KERSTI. But when _is_ it?

MATS. Do you hear the even-song bell?

KERSTI. No!

MATS. But I do; so you must hear it, too.

KERSTI. I don't, I don't! Alas the day!

MATS. Can you hear the rapids?

KERSTI. The roar of the rapids, the beat of the flail, the tinkle of cowbells--but of holy bells not a sound!

MATS. That's a bad sign! I remember when the bells were rung at the burial of our former sheriff--we could see them move, but not a sound was heard. A bad sign!

KERSTI. Brita put a spell on me!

MATS. It will be worst for herself.

KERSTI. Come to the pasture! I must see the sun!

MATS. I will--Kersti dear!

KERSTI. Oh!

MATS. [_Putting his arms about her and pressing her head to his breast_] Oh!

_Curtain_.

[1] Part of an old saw, the rest of which reads as follows: "when it was spanked for licking up the cream."

THIRD SCENE

_The eve of the wedding. The house of_ KERSTI'S _parents_.

_Above the door in the rear hangs a smalt tin plate on which are painted the_ SOLDIER'S _regimental number and the coat-of-arms of Dalecarlia. There is a window on either side of the door, both filled with potted plants. The floor is of pine boards, full of knot-holes and nail-heads, but scrubbed immaculately dean_.

_Half-way down the left wall is an open fireplace with a hood. On the same side, nearer the footlights, stands a wooden seat covered with brightly coloured home-made draperies_.

_Against the opposite wall stands a chest of drawers surmounted by a mirror, over which a white veil has been draped. A pair of candlesticks and a few simple ornaments are arranged in front of the mirror. A table and a wooden seat are placed between the chest and the footlights. On the wall above this seat hangs the_ SOLDIER'S _old-fashioned musket, with stock of birch wood, stained yellow, red leather sling, and percussion-lock. His chaco, cartridge-case, and white bandoleer with bayonet are grouped around the musket. Below appears a portrait of King Charles XV of Sweden in full uniform_.

_A landscape with stacks of sheaves in the fields can be seen through the windows and the open door in the rear_.

_When the curtain rises, a maid servant is at work by the fireplace scouring and polishing copper pans, iron pots, and coffee-kettles_.

_The_ VERGER _is seated at the table on the right-hand side engaged in polishing the brass numbers of the hymn-board, which is lying on the table beside him. There lies also the collection-bag of red velvet with embroideries in silver and a small bell attached to the bottom of it for the rousing of sleeping worshippers_.

_The_ SOLDIER, _in undress uniform and forage-cap, is seated at the same table, looking over some papers on which he is making notes with a pencil, the point of which he wets from time to time_.

LIT-KAREN _and_ LIT-MATS _stand beside the table, with their chins resting on the edge of it, watching the_ VERGER. _Their eyes are agog, and their fingers in their mouths. The_ VERGER _smiles at them and strokes their hair from time to time. The_ MOTHER _is standing by the fireplace drying a couple of towels. As the curtain rises, the merry singing of girls is heard from the outside, but the atmosphere in the room is oppressive, and everybody is trying to lose himself in what he has at hand, forgetful of the rest_.

GIRLS. [_Singing outside; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 14]

"When I was a little lassie, herding on the hill, One day I lost the bell-cow and Gossamer, too. I stood upon a rock and called and cried with a will, Till I heard Gossamer begin to moo In a pasture far, far away. 'Hush,' said Pine-tree, 'She will surely find thee,' Hemlock told me not to stumble; Willow asked me not to grumble; Birch-tree said I could not hope to miss a spanking."

SOLDIER. [_Looks up from his work and remarks phlegmatically to the_ MOTHER] Say, Mother!

MOTHER. We-ell?

SOLDIER. Was it three quarters we got off the place last year?

MOTHER. Yes, that's right.

VERGER. Haven't the girls come out of the bath yet?

MOTHER. No.... This business of the wedding takes a lot of people.... We should be bringing in the oats.... And it will soon be time to pick berries....

VERGER. Yes, the dog-days are most over. You can see it on the flies; they're kind of drowsy.... Will there be a lot of berries this year?

MOTHER. Yes. [_Silence_.

SOLDIER. Will those girls never come back?

MOTHER. I don't know what can be keeping them so long.

SOLDIER. It's hot.

VERGER. It must be bad in camp.

SOLDIER. Well, it isn't so very hard on the infantry....

VERGER. You were lucky to get leave.

SOLDIER. I guess I was!

MOTHER. Now they are coming.

SOLDIER. Did you see that they had something to eat and drink?

MOTHER. Yes, right in the bath, and plenty of it. [_Silence_.

_The girls are heard outside, talking and laughing_. KERSTI _enters first, white-faced, with her wet hair streaming down her back. She is followed by_ BRITA, ANNA, _and the four bridesmaids_, ELSA, RICKA, GRETA, _and_ LISA. _The maids are carrying jars and wine-glasses which they put down by the fireplace_. KERSTI, BRITA, _and_ ANNA _carry long bath-towels with coloured borders, which they hang up by the door_.

_The_ MOTHER _puts a chair in the middle of the floor and makes_ KERSTI _sit on it_. KERSTI'S _hair having first been carefully dried with towels, the_ MOTHER _begins to comb it. The maids duster on the bench at the left_. BRITA _seats herself so that she can stare at_ KERSTI. _No greetings are exchanged, and no emotion of any hind is shown_.

MOTHER. Give me the mirror.

KERSTI. Don't! I don't want any mirror.

BRITA. You ought to look at yourself, as you won't let anybody else see you.

KERSTI. What do you mean?

BRITA. Hard to tell, isn't it?--Nice hair you've got. Can I have it, if it should come off?

KERSTI. No, you can't!

MOTHER. What would you do with it?

BRITA. Watch-chain for Mats.

MOTHER. [_To her daughter_] Won't you let Mats have it?

KERSTI. No, I won't!

BRITA. [_Taking from her skirt-bag the same piece of work on which she was employed in the previous scene_] I'll never be able to match the colour.

KERSTI. You can have it when I am dead.

BRITA. That's a promise, but will you keep it?

KERSTI. I will! [_Silence_.

SOLDIER. Say, Mother.... Please keep quiet a while, children.... Do you know if the sergeant has been asked?

MOTHER. Vesterlund? Of course!

SOLDIER. It's to be at four o'clock in the church, isn't it?

MOTHER. That's right.

SOLDIER. [_Putting his papers together_] Then I'll go and see the Pastor now.... And I'll go right on to the sexton.... [_To himself_] Hm-hm! That was that! Hm-hm!

[_He goes out pensively without greeting anybody. Silence_.

VERGER. Now, my dears, I hope you won't touch anything.

LIT-KAREN. I'll look after Lit-Mats and see that he doesn't.

VERGER. So you're going to look after him, are you?

MOTHER. Where are you going, father?

VERGER. To the store to get the crown, which should be back from the city by this time.

BRITA. [_Sneeringly_] Oh--the crown!

VERGER. [_Rising_] The goldsmith has had it, you know--to clean it with cream of tartar. That's what you do with silver: you boil it in cream of tartar.

BRITA. [_As before_] Ha-ha!

MOTHER. [_To the_ Verger] Wait a moment, and I'll go along to the store.

VERGER. Is it safe to leave the children alone?

BRITA. What do you fear might happen?

MOTHER. Why, they are grown-up people!

BRITA. And Kersti likes to be alone for that matter. She can't stand having anybody look at her....

MOTHER. Now, now!

BRITA. When she is bathing, she doesn't want any company at all. But, of course, she's grown-up, so she doesn't have to be afraid....

KERSTI _is turning and twisting to escape the stare of BRITA_.

MOTHER. Keep still, girl!

BRITA. No, she's no longer any child. She's outgrown that, and a lot more. Perhaps the crown won't fit her even? Have you tried it on?

VERGER. [_Quietly_] That's what we are going to do in a little while.

_He goes out accompanied by the_ MOTHER. _Silence_.

KERSTI _seats herself at the table on the right-hand side and begins to play with the brass numbers_.

BRITA. [_Pursuing_ KERSTI _with her stare_] A merry wedding eve, isn't it?

KERSTI. Do you want to play games?

BRITA. We might play "papa and mamma and the children."

KERSTI. Would you like to guess riddles?

BRITA. I have already guessed....

KERSTI. Or sing?

BRITA. "Hush-a-bye, baby," I suppose you mean?... No, let us read the Bible.

KERSTI. The Bible, you say?

BRITA. Yes--Genesis, thirty-fourth and eight.

KERSTI. About Shechem, you mean?

BRITA. Exactly, and about Dinah, for whom his heart was longing.... Do you know who Dinah was?

KERSTI. She was the daughter of Jacob and Leah.

BRITA. That's right. And do you know what she was?

KERSTI. Is that a riddle?

BRITA. Not at all. Do you know what she was?

KERSTI. No.

BRITA. She was a little--spoiled!

KERSTI. Is that a play on words?

BRITA. More than that!

KERSTI _lets her head fall forward as if wishing to hide her face_.

BRITA. Do you understand? [_Pause_] Is Mrs. Larsson the only one _you_ have asked?

KERSTI. Have I asked?... The midwife, you say?

BRITA. Well, so she says.

KERSTI. Then she is lying!

BRITA. As midwife she has been sworn, although I couldn't tell whether her oath be false or fair. Just now she swears that she doesn't lie.

KERSTI _lets her head droop again_.

BRITA. Hold up your head! Can't you look people in the face?

KERSTI. [_To the other girls_] Say something, girls! [_Silence_.

BRITA. It's hard to say anything when one has seen nothing. But nevertheless--one knows what one knows!

SHERIFF. [_Appearing in the doorway_] I am making free.... It won't matter if an old fellow like me gets in to the girls--although the boys have to keep out!

BRITA. [_Shaking her fist in the face of_ KERSTI] But you'll never wear the crown!

KERSTI. You don't say!

BRITA _goes out_.

_The_ SHERIFF _pulls up a chair and sits down beside_ KERSTI.

_The girls sneak out of the room one by one_. LIT-MATS _stays behind, clinging to the skirt of_ KERSTI.

_It is plain that the intentions of the_ SHERIFF _are kindly, and so are his words, but the more discreet he tries to be, the more awkward he becomes, and so all his words assume an ambiguous meaning_.

SHERIFF. [_Taking one of_ KERSTI'S _hands and looking her straight in the eyes_] What sort of a bride is this, looking so sad when she is getting her heart's desire? What is the matter?

KERSTI. With what?

SHERIFF. Is that the way to answer an old friend who will be a kinsman by this hour to-morrow? There is more than one lass who envies you, and who would like to get to the altar ahead of you to-morrow.

KERSTI. Maybe there is.

SHERIFF. And there is the new life ahead of you, in mill and kitchen. No more running about in the woods, where "birches nod in the blowing breeze." No more dancing in the barns on Saturday nights. You'll be busy 'tending your pots, and watching the cradle, and having the meals on the table when Mats comes home, and--keeping an even temper when the dark days arrive--for after sunshine there is sure to be a little rain. Does it scare you to find life so serious, dear? It isn't as bad as it looks. It merely helps to make life kind of solemn.

KERSTI. Oh!

SHERIFF. What are you oh-ing about, girl?--There seems to be something in the air that has no place in the thoughts of a young girl--something amiss. Now, my dear, let me see if I can't straighten it out. [_Jestingly_] The guardian of the law knows how to get the truth out of all sorts of people. What's on your mind, dear? Has Mats been nasty to you?

KERSTI. Oh, mercy!

SHERIFF. Has the family been playing the high-and-mighty? What have you to do with the family anyhow?

LIT-MATS _climbs into the lap of_ KERSTI, _puts his arms about her, nestles up to her as close as he can get, and falls asleep_.

SHERIFF. Look at that little chap now! He likes his sister-in-law, and that's a good sign. Children always know their real friends. Are you fond of children, Kersti?

KERSTI. [_Suspiciously_] Why do you ask?

SHERIFF. That's not the right kind of an answer!... Don't you think it's nice to have a little thing like that--to hold it on your lap and feel how it trusts you--just as if there could never be any harm or deceit in the bosom that shelters it.... I think he's falling asleep. Helpless as he is, he's not afraid of trusting his sleep to a stranger--who means nothing but well by him, I am sure.

KERSTI. Have you seen anything of Mats?

SHERIFF. He was busy with the boys making the mill ready for the dance to-morrow. [_Silence_] It's some time since we saw a crown bride in this place.

KERSTI. Is that so?

SHERIFF. Yes, indeed. The old ways are gone, and new ones have come in--from the cities and the camps....

KERSTI. [_Pertly_] They used to blame the fellows who came to buy the timber.

SHERIFF. Yes, but if it hadn't been for them, there would have been no mill....

KERSTI. They are always putting the blame on somebody else....

SHERIFF. You are getting a nice husband, Kersti....

KERSTI. Yes, he's fine--too fine for me!

SHERIFF. That's a bitter answer to a kind word!

KERSTI. There was nothing bitter about it--nothing but the truth....

SHERIFF. Why should it be so hard for us to understand each other? It looks almost as if you didn't want us to be friends?

KERSTI. Why do you think so?

SHERIFF. What is well meant, you take badly, and the other way around. Well--that happens frequently when there is something amiss.

KERSTI. What's amiss?

SHERIFF. I don't know.

KERSTI. Neither do I, but it isn't customary to say things like that to a young girl.

SHERIFF. Now, now!--Where there's no sick conscience, you don't have to walk in your stocking feet--but, but, but....

KERSTI. Has the examination begun already?

SHERIFF. I didn't mean....

KERSTI. The--"guardian of the law" doesn't know how to talk to ladies.

SHERIFF. [_Sharply_] Kersti!

KERSTI. What is it?

SHERIFF. [_Looking hard at her_] What do you mean? KERSTI. What do you mean yourself?

SHERIFF. Lo and behold! That's just the kind of questions asked by _my_ ladies when they want to find out whether I know anything.

KERSTI. What could there be to know?

SHERIFF. Whew--is the wind in that corner? Well, well! [_Silence_] Well--I guess I'll be going! Yes, I had better be going!

_He goes out by the rear door, stepping very softly and putting his forefinger across his lips as if meaning to enforce silence on himself_.

KERSTI, _left alone, kisses the head of the sleeping_ LIT-MATS.

MATS _appears at the right-hand window_.

_The twilight has come, but it is the lingering, luminous twilight of the northern summer night_.

MATS. Hey!

KERSTI. Mats! Oh, come here!

MATS. I mustn't come in--I have promised.

KERSTI. Yes, do!

MATS. No, no!--Is the little one asleep?

KERSTI. This one--yes!--Hush! Hush!

_A bugle-call is faintly heard in the distance. It is the summons to evening service in the camp of the regiment to which_ KERSTI'S _father belongs. (See the musical appendix, Melody No_. 15.)

KERSTI. [_Scared_] Are they hunting again?

MATS. No, who would be hunting at this time of day?

KERSTI. What is it?

MATS. A soldier's daughter you are, and don't know!

KERSTI. Tell me!

MATS. That's at the camp, you know. They are calling them to evening prayers.

KERSTI. Of course--but everything seems strange and confused!

MATS. Come to the window, Kersti.

KERSTI. I think.... I'll just put the little one away.

MATS. The little one, you say?

KERSTI. [_Rises very carefully and carries_ LIT-MATS _to the bench by the fireplace, where she pulls him down and covers him up_] Hushaby, hushaby!

_The singing of a hymn in unison is heard from the camp_. KERSTI _kneels beside the bench and tries to pray, bid merely wrings her hands in despair. At last she kisses the shoes of the sleeping child, struggles to her feet, and goes to window_.

MATS. There is something nice about children, isn't there?

KERSTI. Yes--yes!

MATS. Are you alone?

KERSTI. Yes, they left! Hating me--all of them!

MATS. To-morrow is our wedding-day!

KERSTI. Yes--think of it!

MATS. Yes, think of it--to-morrow is our wedding-day!

KERSTI. And I shall be living in the mill!

MATS. In the mill with me!

KERSTI. Till death us do part!

MATS. Which won't be soon!

KERSTI. Oh!

_Curtain_.

FOURTH SCENE

_The wedding. The living-room at the mill has been cleared for the occasion. The big doors in the rear stand wide open. Through the doorway is seen a large loft, where a number of tables have been spread for the impending feast, of which coffee is to form one of the principal features. The shutters covering the rectangular opening to the left of the main doorway are also open, disclosing a table with several candlesticks on it. On this table the fiddlers subsequently take up their position_.

_The opening to the water-wheel appears to the right of the main door. The hand-loom, the bobbin, the reel, and the spinning-wheel have disappeared_.

_On the floor, beneath the place reserved for the fiddlers, stands the "old men's table," with a full equipment of jugs, mugs, pipes, and playing-cards_.

_A number of chairs and benches occupy the middle of the floor, and on these are spread clean white sheets, pillow-cases, and towels for drying_.

_As the curtain rises, six servant-girls are busily grinding coffee on as many hand-mills, while from the outside are heard the ringing of church-bells and a bridal march played on violins. When the coffee is ground, the girls begin to gather up the linen and sing while they are doing so_.

GIRLS. [_Singing; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 16]

"Dillery-deering! Twelve in the clearing: Twelve men glare at me, Twelve swords flare at me. Kine they are slaughtering; Sheep they are quartering; Naught but my life they're leaving: Dillery-deering!"

_The bridal procession is drawing near. The girls put the benches and chairs where they belong and go out with their burdens of linen_.

_The stage is left empty for a few moments, all the sounds previously heard having died out_.

_Then the song of the_ NECK _is heard from the water-wheel, while he himself remains unseen_.

NECK. [_Singing outside_] "I am hoping, I am hoping, that my Redeemer still liveth."

_The trap-door in the floor is raised and the_ MEWLER _ascends from the hole: a blurred mass of white veils beneath which the outlines of a small infant in long clothes are barely discernible. This apparition remains hovering above the opening in the floor_.

_Then the bridal march is again heard outside. The song of the_ NECK _ceases, and the_ MEWLER _disappears, the trap-door falling back into its wonted position_.

_The bridal procession enters the room. First come the fiddlers, then the bridesmaids and bridesmen. After these come the bride and the groom, and then follow the_ PASTOR, _the parents of the couple, the members of both families, friends, and young people. Everybody seems depressed, and the entrance is made in gloomy silence_.

_The bride is led to a chair in the middle of the floor, placed so that she must face the trap-door in the floor. She is very pale and does not look up at all. The guests pass in front of her as in review. Now and then one stops and says a few words to her. Little by little they disappear into the loft in the rear_.

MATS. [_To_ KERSTI] Now the worst is over, Kersti.

[_He goes out_.

BRITA. [_Heading the bridesmaids, to_ KERSTI] You have got the crown--see that you keep it! [_She and the maids go out_.

KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Making sure that the crown is on straight_] Keep your back straight and your head high, girl!

[_She goes out_.

SOLDIER. [_To_ KERSTI] God bless you! [_Goes out_.

VERGER. [_To_ KERSTI] And protect you! [_Goes out_.

MATS'S GRANDFATHER. [_To_ KERSTI] Comely you are as I am homely! [_Goes out_.

MATS'S MOTHER. [_To_ KERSTI] Your new family bids you welcome! [_She goes out_.

MATS'S FATHER. [_To_ KERSTI] _My_ daughter now--the old ties have been loosed! [_He goes out_.

SHERUT. [_To_ KERSTI] Why so pale? What draws all the blood to your heart? What is weighing on it?

KERSTI. [_Raising her head at last to give the_ SHERIFF _a furious look_] Nothing!

SHERIFF. So little is a lot!

KERSTI. Go!

SHERIFF. When you ride, I'll go ahead of you--but we won't be headed for the same place. When you kneel, I shall be standing, but the cold steel you'll taste won't be in my hands.

KERSTI. Oh, I wish you'd break your neck!

SHERIFF. [_Putting the palm of his hand on her neck_] Take care of your own! [_He goes out_.

_The rest of_ MATS'S _relatives file past her, greeting her coldly_.

_The fiddlers have in the meantime taken their places, and several old men have sat down at the table reserved for them and begun to smoke. Now the fiddlers strike up an old Swedish polka. (See the musical appendix, Melody No_. 17.)

_At the same time the_ NECK _begins to play the melody heard in the first scene, but so powerfully that it sounds like two violins. (See musical appendix, Melody No_. 18.)

_As soon as the dance music is heard, cries of_ "Off with the crown!" _are raised, first in the loft, and then in the living-room_.

KERSTI _becomes alarmed_.

_The_ PASTOR _goes up to her_.

FIDDLERS. [_Crying, as they become aware of the playing of the_ NECK] Who is cutting in?

ALL. [_Repeat without looking at the water-wheel or knowing from whence the strange music is heard_] Who is cutting in?

_Then the_ NECK _ceases playing, while the fiddlers continue. The_ PASTOR _takes the bride by the hand and begins to lead her around the room in a stately and solemn manner. Just as he puts his arm about_ KERSTI'S _waist in order to open the dance with her the_ NECK _begins to play again_.

KERSTI. [_Dropping the crown, which rolls into the mill-race_] Jesus Christ!

_All the people in the living-room get on their feet and cry_: "The crown's in the mill-race!"

_Those in the rear room shout back_: "What's up?"

_Those in the living-room repeat_: "The crown's in the mill-race!"

_The fiddlers suddenly stop their playing. The whole place is in wild commotion_.

MATS. [_Appearing in the doorway_] We must look for it!

ALL. We must look for it!

PASTOR. God help us and protect us!

ALL. God help us and protect us!

SHERIFF. Let us look for it!

ALL. Let us look for it!

MATS. Yes, let's look!

_All disappear by the rear door, leaving_ KERSTI _alone on the stage. She seats herself on the same chair as before. In the meantime the stage has gradually been darkened._

_The water-wheel begins to turn_.

NECK. [_Appears in the wheel with his harp, and sings_]

"Stilled are the waters, dark grows the sky: Dark grows the sky. Once in the world of the ages I lived, Blessed by the sun. Gone is the light, Conquered by night. Deep is my sin, Black as the tarn. Joy there is none; Plenty of woe. Torture and Shame must I name my abode: O!"

_When the_ NECK _begins to sing, the trap-door flies open right at the feet of_ KERSTI, _and the_ MEWLER _appears as before_.

_At first_ KERSTI _stares at the apparition with horror. Then she seizes it and presses it to her breast_.

_The_ NECK _stops his song and disappears. Instead the voice of a child (the_ MOCKER) _is heard from the opening in the floor_.

MOCKER. Cold is the river; warm is my mother's bosom. Nothing you gave me in life: in death I take what is mine!

KERSTI. [_Who has been rocking the_ MEWLER _on her arm_, _puts a hand to her breast as if feeling acute pain_] Oh, help! Save me!

MIDWIFE. [_Trips in fussily_] Here I am! Here I am! Mustn't take on like that! [_She takes the_ MEWLER _from_ KERSTI _and drops it through the hole in the floor_] I know how to handle little ones! I help them into the world and out of it.... And I got to the wedding after all!

BRITA _has in the meantime appeared where the fiddlers were seated before, and she has seen the_ MIDWIFE _hide something under the floor_.

MIDWIFE. The Neck was also asked, I understand. Did he come?

KERSTI. What will you take to get out of here?

MIDWIFE. What you have lost!

KERSTI. You mean the crown?

MIDWIFE. Not exactly.... Hush!... I think I heard somebody! Then I'll hide in the fireplace for a while.... I got here after all, as you see!

_She steps into the fireplace and closes the iron shutters behind her_.

BRITA. [_Enters and goes up to_ KERSTI] Now it's you or me!

KERSTI. You, then!

BRITA. A present is waiting for you.

KERSTI. Let's see!

BRITA. Bracelets--but not from me! [_Silence_] Bracelets of steel! [_She places herself on the trap-door_] Now my foot is on your head and on your heart! Now I shall stamp your secret out of the earth, or the water, or the fire--wherever it may be! [_Silence_] Now I shall have your hair for my watch-chain, which is not what it seems. Where is the Midwife? Where is the guest of honour at this virginal wedding? You stole the crown, and the Neck stole it from you. You have stolen the mill, but it will be returned. Shechem's Dinah has proved not only spoiled, but soiled! The little one is asleep, not in the forest, but in the river! You have put my brother to shame, and our whole family, and the name that we bear! And now you shall die!

KERSTI. [_Submissively_] I am dead! I have been dying for days.... Are you satisfied now?

BRITA. No, you shall go on dying for days to come! You shall die for perjury, falsehood, murder, theft, slander, deceit! You shall die six times over! And when you really die the seventh time, it will seem so only! You shall not rest in consecrated ground! You shall have no black coffin with stars of silver on it! You shall have no spruce strewn and no bells rung....

KERSTI. I suppose not!

BRITA. Therefore.... [_Heavy steps are heard outside_] Do you hear those steps? Count them! [_She counts in time with the approaching steps of the_ SHERIFF] One, two, three, four, five, six....

_The_ SHERIFF _enters from the rear_. BRITA _goes to him and whispers something in his ear_.

SHERIFF. It's here, you say?

BRITA. Not the crown, I guess!

SHERIFF. Something else, then! [_He raises the trap-door and looks down_] No, it is not the crown! Poor Kersti! Did you put it there?

KERSTI. I did not!

SHERIFF. No?--Tell the truth!

KERSTI. I did not put it there!

BRITA. [_Striking her on the mouth_] The truth!

KERSTI. I did not put it there!

BRITA. [_Putting her hand in the_ SHERIFF'S _pocket and taking out a pair of handcuffs_] On with the bracelets!

SHERIFF. [_To_ BRITA] Born executioner--that's what _you_ are! [_He puts his hands to his face and weeps_] God have mercy on us!

PASTOR. [_Entering from the rear_] Has it been found?

SHERIFF. Not that, but....

PASTOR. Say no more! I know.... [_Putting his hands to his face and weeping_] God have mercy on us!

SOLDIER. [_Entering from the rear_] Have you found the crown?

SHERIFF. Not that, but....

SOLDIER. Enough! I know....

[_Begins to weep, with his hands to his face_.

KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Entering from the rear_] Have you found the crown?

SHERIFF. No, no!

MOTHER. Oh!

_She looks hard at_ KERSTI, _who is holding out her hands to meet the handcuffs, which_ BRITA _puts on her_.

MOTHER. [_Screaming_] Oh!

_Snatching up a pair of shears, she cuts off_ KERSTI'S _hair and throws it to_ BRITA, _who catches it and sniffs at it as if enjoying its odour. The_ MOTHER _then strips her daughter of the veil and other bridal ornaments. At last she throws a shawl over her head_.

MATS. [_Entering from the rear, stops in front of_ KERSTI _and looks at her in surprise_] Who is that?

BRITA. Look well!

MATS. [_Looking more closely at_ KERSTI] She reminds me of somebody!

BRITA. Look well!

MATS. I don't know her.

BRITA. Grant God you never had!

MATS. The eyes are different.... But the mouth--that sweet mouth--and the little chin.... No, it is not she! [_He turns away from_ KERSTI _and catches sight of the open trap-door_] What's that? You are standing here as if it were a grave....

BRITA. It is a grave!

MATS. Of what?

BRITA. Of everything--everything that made your life worth while!

MATS. That means the little one!--Who did it?

BRITA. [_Pointing to_ KERSTI] She, and she, and she!

MATS. It is not true!

_All who were in the room at the beginning and who left to look for the crown, have gradually returned, and are now crowded together in the background, no one saying a word or making the least noise_.

BRITA. It is true!

MATS. You liar!

SOLDIER. [_To_ BRITA] You liar born of liars!

MATS'S RELATIVES. [_Gathering on the left side of_ KERSTI] You liar born of thieves and liars! That's you!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES [_Gathering on her right side_] No, that's you!

PASTOR. Peace! Peace! In the name of the Lord!

ALL. Peace.

SHERIFF. No one must be condemned untried!

ALL. Let us hear!

SHERIFF. Who brings the charge?

ALL. Who brings the charge?

BRITA. I, Brita Lisa Larsson.

ALL. Brita Lisa Larsson brings the charge. Against whom?

BRITA. Against Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter.

ALL. Against Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter!--What is the charge?

BRITA. If bride be spoiled, the crown is forfeit!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. And your evidence?

BRITA. Two witnesses make valid evidence.

MATS'S RELATIVES. Two witnesses make valid evidence!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. We challenge them!

SHERIFF. No challenging without good cause!

BRITA. "If unmarried woman puts away child that comes to its death, the life of the mother shall be forfeit!"

MATS'S RELATIVES. Her life is forfeit!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. [_Drawing closer with menacing gestures_] "Empty-headed men and meanly tempered never know that they are far from faultless."[1]--The fault is Mats's!

MATS'S RELATIVES. The fault is not Mats's!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. The fault is his who did the deed!

MATS'S RELATIVES. [_With raised fists_] What deed? You had better ask Kersti!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Ask her!

SHERIFF. [_To_ KERSTI] Did you kill the child?

KERSTI. I did!

MATS'S RELATIVES. There you hear!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. God have mercy!

MATS'S RELATIVES. Now you can hear!

MATS _has been standing at the fireplace lost in thought, with his back to the rest. Suddenly he tears off everything that indicates his character of bridegroom. After a brief moment of hesitation, he leaps like mad on the table in the rear and disappears through the opening where the fiddlers were seated before_.

PASTOR. [_Who has been weeping silently, with his hands covering his face, goes to the open trap-door and says_]

"To the dead Give peace, O Lord, And console The living!"[2]

_All bend their heads, shade their faces with one hand, and pray in silence, as the custom is when the Lord's Prayer is read in a Swedish church or at a grave_.

PASTOR. May the Lord bless you and protect you!

ALL. [_With their faces buried in their hands_] Amen!

_Everybody leaves silently and sadly. When_ KERSTI _alone remains, the_ SHERIFF _locks the doors in the rear. Then he fastens the shutters covering the opening where the fiddlers were seated_.

_From the fireplace is heard a loud noise as of thunder_.

NECK. [_Appears in the water-wheel with his fiddle and plays and sings as before_] "I am hoping, I am hoping that thy Redeemer still liveth."

_This he repeats several times, while_ KERSTI _is kneeling on the floor with her handcuffed arms raised toward heaven._

_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _enters from behind the fireplace with a basket full of spruce branches and flowers_.

_The_ NECK _stops singing and disappears_.

_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _strews the spruce branches on the floor so that a green path is formed to the edge of the trap-door. When he has reached this, he drops flowers into the hole, from which the bell-like notes of the harmonica are heard_.

_Unseen by_ KERSTI, _he goes up to her, places his hands on her head and stands still with upturned face as if in prayer_.

_The face of_ KERSTI, _which until then has shown deep despair, assumes an expression of quiet happiness_.

_Curtain_.

[1] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the High One." See introduction.

[2] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the Sun." See introduction.

FIFTH SCENE

_The porch of a country church appears at the right in the foreground. It is brilliantly white, with a roof of black shingle_. Near the entrance is a sort of pillory, at the foot of which KERSTI _lies in penitential garb, with the hood pulled forward to cover her face_.

_A big lake, surrounded by a typical Dalecarlian landscape, forms the background. At the foot of the open place before the church is a boat-landing. A point of land projects into the lake at the right, and there stands the scaffold, consisting of a simple wooden platform with a block on it. Two soldiers, fully armed, stand "at ease" by the entrance to the porch, from within which an organ prelude is heard when the curtain rises_.

_Two large "church-boats" (of the kind used on Lake Siljan in Dalecarlia) gliding slowly forward from opposite directions, arrive at the landing simultaneously. The rowers have raised their oars and appear to be disputing about the right of landing_.

MATS'S RELATIVES _are in the boat at the left_; KERSTI'S RELATIVES _in the boat at the right_.

MATS'S RELATIVES. Look out, Mewlings!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Look out, millers!

MATS'S RELATIVES. [_Raising their oars in menace_] Look out!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. [_In the same way_] Look out!

MATS'S RELATIVES. Can you match us with eight pairs?

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. With sixteen, if needs be! Come on!

MATS'S RELATIVES. At 'em! At 'em!

_They begin to fight with the oars_.

PASTOR. [_Standing bareheaded in prow of the boat at the left_] Peace! Peace in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ!

KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Peace!

MATS'S RELATIVES. War! War on life and death!

PASTOR. Peace!

MATS'S RELATIVES. War!

_The_ VERGER _comes running from the porch, seizes the bell-rope and begins to toll the bell_.

_At the first stroke, all oars are lowered, the boats are brought to the landing and tied up side by side. The_ PASTOR _is the first one to leave the boat at the left. He is followed by_ MATS, _who carries a small white coffin trimmed with lace. Then the relatives and friends of_ MATS _gradually step on shore_.

_The_ SOLDIER _leaves the other boat ahead of all the rest and is followed by his wife. Then come the relatives and friends of_ KERSTI.

_The people on both sides adjust their clothing while throwing angry glances at their opponents_.

_At last_ MATS _with the coffin leads the way up to the church, followed by the_ PASTOR.

MATS. [_Whose face shows intense despair, stops in front of_ KERSTI] Here is the little one now. He's so light--as light as the mind of a bad woman. He's asleep--and soon you will be sleeping, too.

KERSTI. [_Raising her head so that the hood falls back_] O!

Mats. "O," indeed! It's the end, while A is the beginning. Between those two lie many letters, but the last one of all is O. Cry "O" again--the last time of all--so that the little one may hear it. He will tell the Lord and the Saviour, and ask them to forgive you! No? Well, kiss his white coffin then--kiss it where his small feet are resting--the small, small feet that never had a chance to tread this sinful earth! [KERSTI _kisses the coffin_] That's right! Now we'll take him into the church and play and sing and toll the bells over him--but no clergyman can read him into his grave--because of you! I will speak the words myself when we get to the grave. We'll plant him in the sod like a seed in order that he may sprout and grow into a winged blossom. Some day, perhaps, he will spread his wings and fly to heaven--lifted by the wind when the midsummer sun is shining!

PASTOR. [_Taking_ MATS _by the arm and drawing him toward the church_] That's enough, Mats! Come now!

MATS. I am coming.

_They disappear into the porch, followed gradually by the rest_.

SOLDIER. [_Stops in front of_ KERSTI, _shakes his head sadly and tries to find words_] Well.... Well....

[_He goes into the church_.

KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Speaking drily, with a vain attempt to show emotion_] Yes, here we are now!--Was it bad in the Castle?

KERSTI _shakes her head_.

MOTHER. Is there anything you want? To eat or drink--you can have it now, you know.... Did they give you any tobacco while you were in the Castle?

KERSTI _shakes her head_.

MOTHER. Keep your head high, Kersti, and don't let the mill-folk put us to shame. Don't weep so much either. Your father is a man of war, you know, and he can't stand that kind of thing. [_Handing her daughter a hymn-book_] Take this book--and read where I have put the mark. And look at the mark--I got it from some one--some one who is thinking of you in your moment of need. And it is a sure cure against the shakes Farther than this I won't keep you company, Kersti.... I can't--I really can't, being as old as I am....

KERSTI. Do what you feel like, mother. I have found my comforter! I know that my Redeemer still liveth!

MOTHER. It's all right, then, child. That's all I wanted to know.... And you don't want me to go with you?

KERSTI. No, mother, you must spare yourself.... You have had enough trouble on my account as it is.

MOTHER. Then I'll take your word for it, so that the mill-folk won't have anything to talk about. I take your word for it, so that I can tell them: "Kersti didn't want it--it was her own will, and of course her last will was as good as law to me!" And that's just what it is!

[_She goes into the church._

BRITA. [_Stops in front of_ KERSTI _and points toward the scaffold_] A queen you were, and a crown you wore: there's your throne now, with heaven above and hell beneath!--Now you would be glad enough to be milking cows! Now you wouldn't mind picking wood, and scouring pots, and cleaning shoes, and rocking the cradle--now, when you have brought shame on my family and your own, on our parish and our province, so that the whole country is talking of it! Fie on you!

KERSTI _bends lower and lower over the hymn-book._

BRITA. My brother must carry your brat to the grave-_my_ brother! But I shall keep you company to the block when you get spanked! I shall be your bridesmaid when you're wedded to the axe! "There's a corpse that isn't dead, and a babe that wasn't bred, and a bride without a wedding!"

LIT-MATS. Hush up, Brita! Kersti is nice!

BRITA. Indeed!

LIT-MATS. Yes, she is! But I don't like her to have on that ugly cloak.... That would be right for you, Brita! Oh, Kersti, why are you lying here? Are you waiting for Communion? And why did you run away from the wedding? Who is lying in the white box? Is all this a fairy-tale? Do you know that I lost my doll--the one you gave me?... Oh, Kersti dear, why are you so sorry?

[_He throws his arms about her neck_.

KERSTI. [_Taking him on her lap and kissing his shoes_] Oh, Lit-Mats, Lit-Mats!

BRITA. [_To the soldiers_] Is that allowed?

_The soldiers stand at attention, but make no reply_.

BRITA. [_Taking_ LIT-MATS _away from_ KERSTI] Come on now!

KERSTI. [_To_ LIT-MATS] Go with your sister, Lit-Mats! And you had better keep away from me!

[_She begins to read in a low voice out of the hymn-book_.

BRITA. [_To_ KERSTI] Shall I tell him?

KERSTI. For God's sake, don't tell the child!

BRITA. For the child's sake, I won't!

KERSTI. Thank you, Brita--for the child's sake!

BRITA _goes into the church with_ LIT-MATS. _The only ones that remain outside are_ KERSTI _and the two soldiers_.

_The_ HEADSMAN _enters from the right, carrying a black box. He keeps in the background and does not look in the direction of_ KERSTI.

KERSTI. [_Catching sight of him_] Christ Jesus, Saviour of the world, help me for the sake of Thy passion and death!

MIDWIFE. [_Enters from the left and goes up to the_ HEADSMAN] Listen, my dear man.... If it comes off, would you mind my getting quite close to it?... I need a little of that red stuff, you know--for a sick person--one who has the falling sickness....

_The_ HEADSMAN _goes out to the left without answering_.

MIDWIFE. Oh, he is of the kind that won't listen. [_Going to_ KERSTI] Ah, there you are, my dear....

KERSTI. [_With a deprecatory gesture_] Begone!

MIDWIFE. [_Keeping behind the pillory so that she cannot be seen by the soldiers_] Wait a little! Wait a little! Listen now, my dear! I can do what others can't! The hour is near, and the black one is waiting!

KERSTI. In the name of Christ Jesus, begone!

MIDWIFE. Listen! I can do what others can't! I can set you free!

KERSTI. I have found my Saviour! His name is Christ Jesus!

MIDWIFE. I can make the judge as soft as wax....

KERSTI. He who shall judge the quick and the dead; He who is the resurrection and the life: He has sentenced me to death in the flesh, and to--life everlasting.

MIDWIFE. Look at the soldiers! They have gone to sleep! Take my cloak and run!

KERSTI. Are the soldiers asleep?

MIDWIFE. Their eyes are closed!--Run, run, run!

KERSTI _rises and looks at the soldiers, who have closed their eyes_.

MIDWIFE. Run, run, run!

KERSTI. [_Lying down again_] No, much better is it to fall into the hands of the living God!--Depart from me!

_She raises the hymn-book so that the golden cross on its front cover faces the_ MIDWIFE.

MIDWIFE. [_Shrinking back_] Shall we meet a Thursday night at the crossroads?

KERSTI. On the path to the cross I shall meet with my Redeemer, but not with you! Depart!

MIDWIFE. [_Drawing away_] There is a boat down at the shore--horse and carriage are waiting on the other side Mats is there, but the Sheriff not.... Run, run, run!

KERSTI [_Struggling with herself_] O Lord, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil!

MIDWIFE. Shash-ash-ash-ash! Horse and carriage!

KERSTI _seizes the bell-rope and pulls it three times. At the third stroke of the bell, the_ MIDWIFE _takes flight_.

MIDWIFE. Ad-zee! Ad-zee! Ad-zee! [_She disappears_.

_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _comes forward from behind one of the pillars of the porch. His dress is that worn by girls at Rättvik, Dalecarlia (the one with liberty cap, white waist and striped apron, which is probably more familiar to foreigners than any other Swedish peasant costume), but all its parts are white, including the shoes_.

KERSTI. [_As if blinded by his appearance_] Who are you, child--you who come when the evil one departs?

_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _puts a finger across his lips_.

KERSTI. White as snow, and white as linen.... Why are you so white?

CHILD IN WHITE [_In a low voice_] Thy faith has saved thee! Out of faith has sprung hope! [_He goes toward_ KERSTI.

KERSTI. Please, dear, don't step on the ant!

CHILD IN WHITE. [_Stoops and picks up something on a leaf_] But the greatest of these be love--love of all living things, great or small! Now I shall send this ant into the woods to tell the king of all the ants, so that the little people may come here and gnaw the ropes to pieces, and you will be set free.

KERSTI. No, no! Don't talk like that!

CHILD IN WHITE. Doubt not--but believe! Believe, Kersti!--Believe!

KERSTI. How can I?

CHILD IN WHITE. Believe!

_He steps behind the pillar again and disappears_.

_The stage grows darker_.

NECK. [_Appears with his harp in the middle of the lake and sings to the same melody as before_] "I am hoping, I am hoping, that thy Redeemer still liveth!"

KERSTI. He sings of _my_ Redeemer! He brings hope to me, who denied it to him!

_The_ NECK _sinks beneath the waters_.

SHERIFF. [_Enters reading a document; he approaches a few steps at a time, now looking at the ground, and now at the paper in his hand_] Kersti!

KERSTI _looks up, only to drop her head at once_.

SHERIFF. [_Slowly and with frequent pauses_] Behold the Sheriff!--You are only scared by him!--Do you think everybody feels like that? Suppose that the Sheriff has been summoned to help some one in a moment of dire need. Do you think he will be welcome then? Of course, he will!... Did you ever see such a lot of ants, Kersti?

KERSTI _raises her head again and becomes attentive_.

SHERIFF. Look at them! Files of them, and whole hosts! Look!--Do you know what that means? It is a good omen! But, of course, you never expect anything good to come from me. You wouldn't believe it _that_ time either--and that's what led to your exposure! Look at those ants! Look at them! They are making straight for you, Kersti. Are you not afraid of them?

KERSTI. I used to be, but I am not.

SHERIFF. Big wood-ants, and I think the ant-king himself is with them. Do you know what can be done by the King, and by no other authority? Do you know that? All other authorities can pass judgment--all of them can do that--harshly or mercifully; but there is only one that can grant pardon. That's the King!--Shall we ask the antking if he will grant pardon? [_He puts his hand to his ear as if to hear better_] Would your Majesty be willing to pardon her--that is, in regard to the worst part?... Did you hear what he answered? I thought he said yes. But I may have been mistaken.... And being the Sheriff, I can't go by hearsays, but must have everything in writing. Let us ask the ant-king to write it down. He has plenty of pens--sharp as needles--and he has ink of his own, that burns. If we could only find a piece of paper! [_He pretends to search his pockets, and finally he brings out the paper he was reading when he entered_] Oh, here we are! Look at this! The King has written it with his own hand. Do you see? C-A-R-L, which makes Carl. [_He raises his cap for a moment in salute_] You haven't seen such big letters since you went to school, Kersti. And look at the red seal--that smelled like resin in the woods when the sealing-wax still was warm. And look at the silken cords, yellow and blue--and all these lions and crowns.... That's royal, every bit of it!... Read it yourself, Kersti, while I give my orders to the soldiers.

KERSTI _takes the paper from his hand and reads_.

_The_ SHERIFF _turns to the soldiers and says something that cannot be heard by the public_.

_The soldiers leave_.

_When_ KERSTI _has finished reading she hands the document back to the_ SHERIFF _in a quiet, dignified manner_.

SHERIFF. Are you glad, Kersti?

KERSTI. I am thankful that my family and yours will be spared the greatest shame of all. I cannot be glad, for eternal life is better than a life in fetters.

SHERIFF. Regard it as a time of preparation.

KERSTI. I will!

SHERIFF. Are you still afraid of me?

KERSTI. Having looked death in the face, I fear nothing else.

SHERIFF. Come with me, then.

KERSTI. You must set me free first.

_The_ SHERIFF _unties the ropes with which she has been bound_.

_An organ prelude is heard from the church_.

KERSTI _stretches her arms toward heaven_.

_Curtain_.

SIXTH SCENE

_The stage represents the frozen surface of a big lake, the shores of which form the background. Deep snow covers the ice. Tall pine branches stuck into the snow serve to mark the tracks used in crossing the lake_.

_In the centre of the stage, toward the background, a large rectangular opening has been cut in the ice. A number of small spruce-trees have been set along the edges of it to warn against danger_.

_Long-tailed ducks_ (Heralda glacialis _or_ Clangula glacialis) _are floating on the open water. Now and then one of them utters its peculiarly melodious cry. (See musical appendix, Melody No_. 19.)

_A number of short fishing-rods are placed along the edges of the open water, with their lines out_.

_A gloomy old structure with turrets and battlements appears on the shore in the background. It is known as the "Castle", but is in reality a penitentiary_.

_It is about daybreak_.

_The_ FISHERMAN _enters from the right dressed in a sheepskin coat and hauling a sledge on which lies an ice-hook. All the ducks dive when he comes in sight. He begins to examine his fishlines_.

MIDWIFE. [_Entering from the left_] How dare you fish on Easter Sunday?

FISHERMAN. I am not fishing--I'm just looking.

MIDWIFE. Perhaps you, who are so clever, can also tell a poor, strayed old woman where she is?

FISHERMAN. If you give me a light.

MIDWIFE. If you have flint and steel.

FISHERMAN. [_Handing her two pieces of ice_] Here they are.

MIDWIFE. Ice? Well, water is fire, and fire is water!

_She tears off a piece of her cloak to serve as tinder; then, she strikes the two pieces of ice against each other; hiving set the tinder on fire in that way, she hands it to the_ FISHERMAN, _who lights his pipe with it_.

FISHERMAN. Oh, you are that kind? Then I know where I am.

MIDWIFE. But where am I?

FISHERMAN. In the middle of Krummedikke's lake, and over there you see his castle. He was a king who lived long, long ago, and, like Herod, he caused all male babes to be slain because he was afraid for his crown. But now his castle holds all the girls who have not been afraid for theirs.

MIDWIFE. What are they doing in there?

FISHERMAN. Spinning flax.

MIDWIFE. That's the jail, then?

FISHERMAN. That's what it is.

MIDWIFE. And the lake?

FISHERMAN. Oh, it's a good one! There used to be dry land where the lake is now, and on that piece of land stood a church, and that church started a feud. It was a question of pews, you see. The mill-folk, who thought themselves above the rest, wanted to sit next to the altar, but the Mewlings were the stronger. One Easter Sunday it broke loose, right in the nave, and blood was shed. The church was profaned so that it could never be cleansed again. Instead it was closed up and deserted, and by and by it sank into the earth, and now there are fifty feet of water above the weathercock on the spire. By this time the lake has been washing it and washing it these many hundred years, but as long as mill-folk and Mewlings keep on fighting, the temple will never be cleansed.

MIDWIFE. Why are they called Mewlings?

FISHERMAN. Because they are descended from Krummedikke, who slew the infants.

MIDWIFE. And they are still fighting?

FISHERMAN. Still fighting, and still slaying.... You remember, don't you, Kersti, the soldier's daughter?

MIDWIFE. Of course, I do.

FISHERMAN. She is in the Castle, but to-day she will be out to do her yearly public penance at the church.

MIDWIFE. Is that so?

FISHERMAN. The Mewlings are coming to bring her over, and the mill-folk are coming to look on.

MIDWIFE. Do you hear the ice tuning up?

FISHERMAN. I do.

MIDWIFE. Does it mean thaw?

FISHERMAN. Maybe.

MIDWIFE. Then the ice will begin to break from the shore?

FISHERMAN. Quite likely. But if the water should rise, the rapids down there will carry it off.

MIDWIFE. Are the rapids far from here?

FISHERMAN. Naw! You can hear the Neck quite plainly. To-day he will be up betimes, as he is expecting something.

MIDWIFE. What can he be expecting?

FISHERMAN. Oh, you know!

MIDWIFE. No, I don't. Please tell me.

FISHERMAN. This is what they tell: Every Easter Sunday morning, at the hour when the Saviour ascended from his grave, the church of Krummedikke rises out of the lake. And he who gets a look at it has peace in his soul for the rest of the year.

MIDWIFE. [_Gallops out toward the right_] Ad-zee! Ad-zee! Ad-zee!

FISHERMAN. That was a bad meeting.... [_He lands a fish and takes it from the hook_] I got you!

_The fish slips out of his hand and leaps into the water. The_ FISHERMAN _tries to catch it with his dip-net. Then a whole row of fish-heads appear above the water_.

FISHERMAN. Dumb, but not deaf! "What roars more loudly than a crane? What is whiter by far than a swan?"[1]

CHILD IN WHITE. [_Dressed as in the preceding scene, enters on skis, carrying a torch_;] The thunder of heaven roars more loudly than the crane, and he who does no evil is whiter than the swan.

_The fish-heads disappear_.

FISHERMAN. Who read my riddle?

CHILD IN WHITE. Who can free the prisoner from his bonds and set the tongue of the fish talking?

FISHERMAN. No one!

CHILD IN WHITE. No man by man begotten, but one born of the all-creative God.... He who has built the bridge of glass can break it, too!... Beware!

[_He goes out to the right_.

_The_ FISHERMAN _begins to gather up his implements_.

_The_ MILL-FOLK (MATS'S _relatives) enter from the left; all are on skis and carry long staffs_. MATS _carries a torch_.

MATS. Where is the winter road?

FISHERMAN. Do you mean the road of the fish in the water?

MATS. No, the road of the horse on the snow.

FISHERMAN. Does it lead to court or church?

MILL-FOLK. To church.

FISHERMAN. For the man who has lost his way, all roads lead to the rapids. [_A rumbling noise is made by the ice_] The roof is cracking!

MILL-FOLK. Where is the road to the church?

FISHERMAN. Everywhere!

MILL-FOLK. Where is the church?

FISHERMAN. You are standing on it, and walking over it, and soon it will be here.

MILL-FOLK. Is this Krummedikke's lake?

FISHERMAN. It's Krummedikke's castle and Krummedikke's lake; it's Krummedikke's church, and soon it will break.

MILL-FOLK. Lord have mercy! [_They go out to the right_.

_The_ MEWLINGS (KERSTI'S _relatives) enter from the left_, on _skis and carrying staffs. The_ SOLDIER _carries a torch_.

MEWLINGS. Is this the road to the church?

FISHERMAN. This is the road to the rapids! Turn back!

MEWLINGS. Ridges and open water everywhere! The floe is breaking loose!

FISHERMAN. Go eastward! The sun is tarrying.

MEWLINGS. Let's go eastward! [_They go out to the right_.

_The_ MILL-FOLK _return from the right_.

FISHERMAN. Turn back! The floe has broken loose down that way!

MILL-FOLK. And eastward, too! Let's turn northward!

FISHERMAN. There's the river!

MILL-FOLK. Southward, then!

FISHERMAN. There are the rapids!

MILL-FOLK. [_Leaning dejectedly on their staffs_] God have mercy on us!

MATS. The Mewlings put us on the wrong track.

BRITA. As they have always done!

FATHER. And they'll be first at church!

GRANDFATHER. Never mind! But I can't help regretting the day when I burned the papers.

MOTHER. Will there ever be peace?

GRANDMOTHER. "Men who are mild and gentle live in peace and know but little sorrow."[2]

MILL-FOLK. [_Raising their staffs_] The Mewlings!

MEWLINGS. [_Entering from the right, with raised staffs]_ Will you bide now, mill-folk? You put us on the wrong track!

MILL-FOLK. You liars!

MEWLINGS. The same to you!

MILL-FOLK. Quibblers!

MEWLINGS. And what are you?

_The ice begins to crash and rumble_.

FISHERMAN. Peace in the name of Christ Jesus! The water is rising!

ALL. [_Crying aloud_] The water is rising!

MATS'S GRANDFATHER. The ice is sinking. Stay where you are!

MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. To-day we must die, and then comes the day of judgment!

_The_ MILL-FOLK _embrace each other. The women pick up the children into their arms. The_ MEWLINGS _do likewise_.

MATS'S MOTHER. [_To_ Mats] For the sake of your foolish fondness, we must die!

KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Another's love should by no one be blamed: wise men are often snared by beauty, but fools never."[2]

SOLDIER. "This fault of his should by no one be blamed: love, in its might, will often turn the sons of men from wisdom to folly."[3]

MATS. [_Holding out his hand to the_ SOLDIER] Thank you for those words! You are the man I named father for a brief while!

SOLDIER. "All at birth and death are equals."

MATS'S FATHER. There you took the word away from me! Your hand!

SOLDIER. [_Giving his hand after a little hesitation_] Here it is! We are all Christians, and this is the great day of atonement. Let not the sun rise on our wrath!

MEWLINGS. Let us have peace!

MILL-FOLK. Yes, let us have peace!

_The two parties are approaching each other with hands stretched out, when a terrific crash is heard, and the ice opens at their feet, separating them from each other_.

MATS'S GRANDFATHER. Parted in life and parted in death!

MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. The bridge has broken under the burden of crime.

MATS'S MOTHER. Where is Kersti?

MILL-FOLK. Where is Kersti?

MEWLINGS. Where is Kersti?

SOLDIER. "And lo, it was expedient that one should die for the people."

MATS'S GRANDFATHER. "Then said they unto him: What shall we do unto thee, that the sea may be calm unto us?"

KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you."

MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. Is it settled?

ALL. It is settled!

KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?"

MEWLINGS. Where is Kersti?

MILL-FOLK. Where is Kersti?

_The_ PASTOR _enters, followed by the_ VERGER.

PASTOR. [_To the_ Soldier] "And the Lord said: Lay not thine hand upon the child, for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thine only child from me."

ALL. [_To the_ Minister] Save us!

PASTOR. "There is but one God, the Saviour!" Let us pray!

_All kneel on the ice_.

PASTOR. "Out of the depths I cry unto thee, O Lord!"

ALL. "Lord, hear my voice!"

PASTOR. O Lord, have mercy!

ALL. Christ, have mercy!

_The_ SHERIFF _enters from the rear with a torch in his hand. He is followed by four soldiers, carrying the dead body of_ KERSTI _between them_.

_All get on their feet_.

PASTOR. Whom are you bringing with you?

SHERIFF. We are bringing the crown bride--Kersti!

PASTOR. Is she alive?

SHERIFF. She is dead. The waters took her!

PASTOR. May the Lord take her soul!

SOLDIER. O Lord, have respect unto our offering, as thou hast given thyself for us an offering.

PASTOR. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son!"

BRITA. The water is falling!

ALL. The water is falling!

_The gap in the ice is closed up again_.

MATS _and_ BRITA _walk over to the_ MEWLINGS, _break branches from the spruces set in the snow, and spread these over the body of_ KERSTI.

PASTOR. Will there be peace after this?

ALL. Peace and reconciliation!

PASTOR. [_Beside the body of_ KERSTI]

"To the dead Give peace, O Lord, And console The living!"

_In the background a church is seen rising out of the lake: first the gilded weathercock; then the cross resting on a globe; and finally the spire, the roof covered with black shingles, and the white walls of the round-arched church_.

NECK. [_Is heard playing and singing in the distance, but now his melody has been transposed into D minor_] "I am hoping, I am hoping, that my Redeemer still liveth."

PASTOR. Let us give praise and thanks unto the Lord!

ALL. We thank and praise thee, O Lord!

MATS _and_ BRITA _kneel beside the body of_ KERSTI. _All the rest kneel around them and sing No_. 6 _from the "Old" _Swedish Hymn-Book_ (which is a free rendering of Luther's_ "Herr Gott, dich loben wir," _and practically identical with the Ambrosian_ "Te Deum laudamus").

ALL. [_Singing_]

"O God, we give thee praise! O Lord, we give thee thanks! Eternal Father, whom the whole world worships!

Thy praise is sung by angels and all the heavenly powers; By Cherubim and Seraphim thy praise is sung incessantly: Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth!"

_Curtain_.

[1] Old Swedish folk-riddle, the expected answers to the questions being respectively: the thunder and an angel.

[2] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the High One." See Introduction.

[3] id. note 2.

THE SPOOK SONATA

(SPÖK-SONATEN)

CHAMBER PLAYS: OPUS III

1907

CHARACTERS

OLD HUMMEL _The_ STUDENT, _named Arkenholtz_ _The_ MILKMAID, _an apparition_ _The_ JANITRESS _The_ GHOST _of the Consul_ _The_ DARK LADY, _daughter of the Consul and the_ JANITRESS _The_ COLONEL _The_ MUMMY, _wife of the_ COLONEL _The_ YOUNG LADY, _supposedly the_ COLONEL'S _daughter_, _but in reality the daughter of_ OLD HUMMEL _The_ DANDY, _called Baron Skansenkorge and engaged to the_ DARK LADY JOHANSSON, _in the service of_ HUMMEL BENGTSSON, _the valet of the_ COLONEL _The_ FIANCÉE, _a white-haired old woman, formerly engaged to_ HUMMEL _The_ COOK _A_ SERVANT-GIRL BEGGARS

FIRST SCENE

_The stage shows the first and second stories of a modern corner home. At the left, the house continues into the wings; at the right, it faces on a street supposed to be running at right angle to the footlights_.

_The apartment on the ground floor ends at the corner in a round room, above which is a balcony belonging to the apartment on the second floor. A flagstaff is fixed to the balcony_.

_When the shades are raised in the windows of the Round Room, a statue of a young woman in white marble becomes visible inside, strongly illumined by sunlight. It is surrounded by palms. The windows on the left side of the Round Room contain a number of flower-pots, in which grow blue, white, and red hyacinths_.

_A bedquilt of blue silk and two pillows in white cases are hung over the railing of the balcony on the second floor. The windows at the left of the balcony are covered with white sheets on the inside_.

_A green bench stands on the sidewalk in front of the house. The right corner of the foreground is occupied by a drinking fountain; the corner at the left, by an advertising column_.

_The main entrance to the house is near the left wing. Through the open doorway appears the foot of the stairway, with steps of white marble and a banister of mahogany with brass trimmings. On the sidewalk, flanking the entrance, stand two laurel-trees in wooden tubs_.

_At the left of the entrance, there is a window on the ground floor, with a window-mirror outside_.

_It is a bright Sunday morning_.

_When the curtain rises, the bells of several churches are heard ringing in the distance_.

_The doors of the entrance are wide open, and on the lowest step of the stairway stands the_ DARK LADY. _She does not make the slightest movement_.

_The_ JANITRESS _is sweeping the hallway. Then she polishes the brass knobs on the doors. Finally she waters the laurel-trees_.

_Near the advertising column_, OLD HUMMEL _is reading his paper, seated in an invalid's chair on wheels. His hair and beard are white, and he wears spectacles_.

_The_ MILKMAID _enters from the side street, carrying milk-bottles in a crate of wire-work. She wears a light dress, brown shoes, black stockings, and a white cap_.

_She takes off her cap and hangs it on the fountain; wipes the perspiration from her forehead; drinks out of the cup; washes her hands in the basin, and arranges her hair, using the water in the basin as a mirror_.

_A steamship-bell is heard outside. Then the silence is broken fitfully by a few bass notes from the organ in the nearest church_.

_When silence reigns again, and the_ MILKMAID _has finished her toilet, the_ STUDENT _enters from the left, unshaved and showing plainly that he has spent a sleepless night. He goes straight to the fountain. A pause ensues_.

STUDENT. Can I have the cup?

_The_ MILKMAID _draws back with the cup_.

STUDENT. Are you not almost done?

_The_ MILKMAID _stares at him with horror_.

HUMMEL. [_To himself_] With whom is he talking? I don't see anybody. Wonder if he's crazy?

[_He continues to look at them with evident surprise_.

STUDENT. Why do you stare at me? Do I look so terrible--It is true that I haven't slept at all, and I suppose you think I have been making a night of it....

_The_ MILKMAID _remains as before_.

STUDENT. You think I have been drinking, do you? Do I smell of liquor?

_The_ MILKMAID _remains as before_.

STUDENT. I haven't shaved, of course.... Oh, give me a drink of water, girl. I have earned it. [_Pause_] Well? Must I then tell you myself that I have spent the night dressing wounds and nursing the injured? You see, I was present when that house collapsed last night.... Now you know all about it.

_The_ MILKMAID _rinses the cup, fills it with water, and hands it to him_.

STUDENT. Thanks!

_The_ MILKMAID _stands immovable_.

STUDENT. [_Hesitatingly_] Would you do me a favour? [_Pause_] My eyes are inflamed, as you can see, and my hands have touched wounds and corpses. To touch my eyes with them would be dangerous.... Will you take my handkerchief, which is clean, dip it in the fresh water, and bathe my poor eyes with it?--Will you do that?--Won't you play the good Samaritan?

_The_ MILKMAID _hesitates at first, but does finally what he has asked_.

STUDENT. Thank you! [_He takes out his purse_.

_The_ MILKMAID _makes a deprecatory gesture_.

STUDENT. Pardon my absent-mindedness. I am not awake, you see....

_The_ MILKMAID _disappears_.

Hummel. [_To the_ STUDENT] Excuse a stranger, but I heard you mention last night's accident.... I was just reading about it in the paper....

STUDENT. Is it already in the papers?

HUMMEL. All about it. Even your portrait. They are sorry, though, that they have not been able to learn the name of the young student who did such splendid work....

STUDENT. [_Glancing at the paper_] Oh, is that me? Well!

HUMMEL. Whom were you talking to a while ago?

STUDENT. Didn't you see? [_Pause_.

HUMMEL. Would it be impertinent--to ask--your estimable name?

STUDENT. What does it matter? I don't care for publicity. Blame is always mixed into any praise you may get. The art of belittling is so highly developed. And besides, I ask no reward....

HUMMEL. Wealthy, I suppose?

STUDENT. Not at all--on the contrary--poor as a durmouse!

HUMMEL. Look here.... It seems to me as if I recognised your voice. When I was young, I had a friend who always said "dur" instead of door. Until now he was the one person I had ever heard using that pronunciation. You are the only other one.... Could you possibly be a relative of the late Mr. Arkenholtz, the merchant?

STUDENT. He was my father.

HUMMEL. Wonderful are the ways of life.... I have seen you when you were a small child, under very trying circumstances....

STUDENT. Yes, I have been told that I was born just after my father had gone bankrupt.

HUMMEL. So you were.

STUDENT. May I ask your name?

HUMMEL. I am Mr. Hummel.

STUDENT. You are? Then I remember....

HUMMEL. Have you often heard my name mentioned at home?

STUDENT. I have.

HUMMEL. And not in a pleasant way, I suppose?

_The_ STUDENT _remains silent_.

HUMMEL. That's what I expected.--You were told, I suppose, that I had ruined your father?--All who are ruined by ill-advised speculations think themselves ruined by those whom they couldn't fool. [_Pause_] The fact of it is, however, that your father robbed me of seventeen thousand crowns, which represented all my savings at that time.

STUDENT. It is queer how the same story can be told in quite different ways.

HUMMEL. You don't think that I am telling the truth?

STUDENT. How can I tell what to think? My father was not in the habit of lying.

HUMMEL. No, that's right, a father never lies.... But I am also a father, and for that reason....

STUDENT. What are you aiming at?

HUMMEL. I saved your father from misery, and he repaid me with the ruthless hatred that is born out of obligation.... He taught his family to speak ill of me.

STUDENT. Perhaps you made him ungrateful by poisoning your assistance with needless humiliation.

HUMMEL. All assistance is humiliating, sir.

STUDENT. And what do you ask of me now?

HUMMEL. Not the money back. But if you will render me a small service now and then, I shall consider myself well paid. I am a cripple, as you see. Some people say it is my own fault. Others lay it to my parents. I prefer to blame life itself, with its snares. To escape one of these snares is to walk headlong into another. As it is, I cannot climb stairways or ring door-bells, and for that reason I ask you: will you help me a little?

STUDENT. What can I do for you?

HUMMEL. Give my chair a push, to begin with, so that I can read the bills on that column. I wish to see what they are playing to-night.

STUDENT. [_Pushing the chair as directed_] Have you no attendant?

HUMMEL. Yes, but he is doing an errand. He'll be back soon. Are you a medical student?

STUDENT. No, I am studying philology, but I don't know what profession to choose....

HUMMEL. Well, well! Are you good at mathematics?

STUDENT. Reasonably so.

HUMMEL. That's good! Would you care to accept a position?

STUDENT. Yes, why not?

HUMMEL. Fine! [_Studying the playbills_] They are playing "The Valkyr" at the matinee.... Then the Colonel will be there with his daughter, and as he always has the end seat in the sixth row, I'll put you next to him.... Will you please go over to that telephone kiosk and order a ticket for seat eighty-two, in the sixth row?

STUDENT. Must I go to the opera in the middle of the day?

HUMMEL. Yes. Obey me, and you'll prosper. I wish to see you happy, rich, and honoured. Your début last night in the part of the brave rescuer will have made you famous by to-morrow, and then your name will be worth a great deal.

STUDENT. [_On his way out to telephone_] What a ludicrous adventure!

HUMMEL. Are you a sportsman?

STUDENT. Yes, that has been my misfortune.

HUMMEL. Then we'll turn it into good fortune.--Go and telephone now.

_The_ STUDENT _goes out_. HUMMEL _begins to read his paper again. In the meantime the_ DARK LADY _has come out on the sidewalk and stands talking to the_ JANITRESS. HUMMEL _is taking in their conversation, of which, however, nothing is audible to the public_. _After a while the_ STUDENT _returns_.

HUMMEL. Ready?

STUDENT. It's done.

HUMMEL. Have you noticed this house?

STUDENT. Yes, I have been watching it.... I happened to pass by yesterday, when the sun was making every window-pane glitter.... And thinking of all the beauty and luxury that must be found within, I said to my companion: "Wouldn't it be nice to have an apartment on the fifth floor, a beautiful young wife, two pretty little children, and an income of twenty thousand crowns?"...

HUMMEL. So you said that? Did you really? Well, well! I am very fond of this house, too....

STUDENT. Do you speculate in houses?

HUMMEL. Mm-yah! But not in the way you mean.

STUDENT. Do you know the people who live here?

HUMMEL. All of them. A man of my age knows everybody, including their parents and grandparents, and in some manner he always finds himself related to every one else. I am just eighty--but nobody knows _me_--not through and through. I am very much interested in human destinies.

_At that moment the shades are raised in the Round Room on the ground floor, and the_ COLONEL _becomes visible, dressed in civilian clothes. He goes to one of the windows to study the thermometer outside. Then he turns back into the room and stops in front of the marble statue_.

HUMMEL. There's the Colonel now, who will sit next to you at the opera this afternoon.

STUDENT. Is _he_--the Colonel? I don't understand this at all, but it's like a fairy-tale.

HUMMEL. All my life has been like a collection of fairy-tales, my dear sir. Although the tales read differently, they are all strung on a common thread, and the dominant theme recurs constantly.

STUDENT. Whom does that statue represent?

HUMMEL. His wife, of course.

STUDENT. Was she very lovely?

HUMMEL. Mm-yah--well....

STUDENT. Speak out.

HUMMEL. Oh, we can't form any judgment about people, my dear boy. And if I told you that she left him, that he beat her, that she returned to him, that she married him a second time, and that she is living there now in the shape of a mummy, worshipping her own statue--then you would think me crazy.

STUDENT. I don't understand at all.

HUMMEL. I didn't expect you would. Then there is the window with the hyacinths. That's where his daughter lives? She is out for a ride now, but she will be home in a few moments.

STUDENT. And who is the dark lady talking to the janitress?

HUMMEL. The answer is rather complicated, but it is connected with the dead man on the second floor, where you see the white sheets.

STUDENT. Who was he?

HUMMEL. A human being like you or me, but the most conspicuous thing about him was his vanity.... If you were born on a Sunday, you might soon see him come down the stairway and go out on the sidewalk to make sure that the flag of the consulate is half-masted. You see, he was a consul, and he revelled in coronets and lions and plumed hats and coloured ribbons.

STUDENT. You spoke of being born on a Sunday.... So was I, I understand.

HUMMEL. No! Really?... Oh, I should have known.... The colour of your eyes shows it.... Then you can see what other people can't. Have you noticed anything of that kind?

STUDENT. Of course, I can't tell what other people see or don't see, but at times.... Oh, such things you don't talk of!

HUMMEL. I was sure of it! And you can talk to me, because I--I understand--things of that kind....

STUDENT. Yesterday, for instance.... I was drawn to that little side street where the house fell down afterward.... When I got there, I stopped in front of the house, which I had never seen before.... Then I noticed a crack in the wall.... I could hear the floor beams snapping.... I rushed forward and picked up a child that was walking in front of the house at the time.... In another moment the house came tumbling down.... I was saved, but in my arms, which I thought held the child, there was nothing at all....

HUMMEL. Well, I must say!... Much as I have heard.... Please tell me one thing: what made you act as you did by the fountain a while ago? Why were you talking to yourself?

STUDENT. Didn't you see the Milkmaid to whom I was talking?

HUMMEL. [_Horrified_] A milkmaid?

STUDENT. Yes, the girl who handed me the cup.

HUMMEL. Oh, that's what it was.... Well, I haven't that kind of sight, but there are other things....

_A white-haired old woman is seen at the window beside the entrance, looking into the window-mirror_.

HUMMEL. Look at that old woman in the window. Do you see her?--Well, she was my fiancée once upon a time, sixty years ago.... I was twenty at that time.... Never mind, she does not recognise me. We see each other every day, and I hardly notice her--although once we vowed to love each other eternally.... Eternally!

STUDENT. How senseless you were in those days! We don't talk to our girls like that.

HUMMEL. Forgive us, young man! We didn't know better.--Can you see that she was young and pretty once?

STUDENT. It doesn't show.... Oh, yes, she has a beautiful way of looking at things, although I can't see her eyes clearly.

_The_ JANITRESS _comes out with a basket on her arm and begins to cover the sidewalk with chopped hemlock branches, as is usual in Sweden when a funeral is to be held_.

HUMMEL. And the Janitress--hm! That Dark Lady is her daughter and the dead man's, and that's why her husband was made janitor.... But the Dark Lady has a lover, who is a dandy with great expectations. He is now getting a divorce from his present wife, who is giving him an apartment-house to get rid of him. This elegant lover is the son-in-law of the dead man, and you can see his bedclothes being aired on the balcony up there.... That's a bit complicated, I should say!

STUDENT. Yes, it's fearfully complicated.

HUMMEL. It certainly is, inside and outside, no matter how simple it may look.

STUDENT. But who was the dead man?

Hummel. So you asked me a while ago, and I answered you. If you could look around the corner, where the servants' entrance is, you would see a lot of poor people whom he used to help--when he was in the mood....

STUDENT. He was a kindly man, then?

HUMMEL. Yes--at times.

STUDENT. Not always?

HUMMEL. No-o.... People are like that!--Will you please move the chair a little, so that I get into the sunlight? I am always cold. You see, the blood congeals when you can't move about.... Death isn't far away from me, I know, but I have a few things to do before it comes.... Just take hold of my hand and feel how cold I am.

STUDENT. [_Taking his hand_] I should say so!

[_He shrinks back_.

HUMMEL. Don't leave me! I am tired now, and lonely, but I haven't always been like this, you know. I have an endlessly long life back of--enormously long.... I have made people unhappy, and other people have made me unhappy, and one thing has to be put against the other, but before I die, I wish to see you happy.... Our destinies have become intertwined, thanks to your father--and many other things....

STUDENT. Let go my hand! You are taking all my strength! You are freezing me! What do you want of me?

HUMMEL. Patience, and you'll see, and understand.... There comes the Young Lady now....

STUDENT. The Colonel's daughter?

HUMMEL. His daughter--yes! Look at her!--Did you ever see such a masterpiece?

STUDENT. She resembles the marble statue in there.

HUMMEL. It's her mother.

STUDENT. You are right.... Never did I see such a woman of woman born!--Happy the man who may lead her to the altar and to his home!

HUMMEL. You see it, then? Her beauty is not discovered by everybody.... Then it is written in the book of life!

_The_ YOUNG LADY _enters from the left, wearing a close-fitting English riding-suit. Without looking at any one, she walks slowly to the entrance, where she stops and exchanges a few words with the_ JANITRESS. _Then she disappears into the house. The_ STUDENT _covers his eyes with his hand_.

HUMMEL. Are you crying?

STUDENT. Can you meet what is hopeless with anything but despair?

HUMMEL. I have the power of opening doors and hearts, if I can only find an arm to do my will.... Serve me, and you shall also have power....

STUDENT. Is it to be a bargain? Do you want me to sell my soul?

HUMMEL. Don't sell anything!... You see, all my life I have been used to _take_. Now I have a craving to give--to give! But no one will accept.... I am rich, very rich, but have no heirs except a scamp who is tormenting the life out of me.... Become my son! Inherit me while I am still alive! Enjoy life, and let me look on--from a distance, at least!

STUDENT. What am I to do?

HUMMEL. Go and hear "The Valkyr" first of all.

STUDENT. That's settled--but what more?

HUMMEL. This evening you shall be in the Round Room.

STUDENT. How am I to get there?

HUMMEL. Through "The Valkyr."

STUDENT. Why have you picked me to be your instrument? Did you know me before?

HUMMEL. Of course, I did! I have had my eyes on you for a long time.... Look at the balcony now, where the Maid is raising the flag at half-mast in honour of the consul.... And then she turns the bedclothes.... Do you notice that blue quilt? It was made to cover two, and now it is only covering one.... [_The_ YOUNG LADY _appears at her window, having changed dress in the meantime; she waters the hyacinths_] There is my little girl now. Look at her--look! She is talking to her flowers, and she herself looks like a blue hyacinth. She slakes their thirst--with pure water only--and they transform the water into colour and fragrance.... There comes the Colonel with the newspaper! He shows her the story about the house that fell down--and he points at your portrait! She is not indifferent--she reads of your deeds.... It's clouding up, I think.... I wonder if it's going to rain? Then I shall be in a nice fix, unless Johansson comes back soon [_The sun has disappeared, and now the stage is growing darker; the white-haired old woman closes her window_] Now my fiancée is closing her window.... She is seventy-nine--and the only mirror she uses is the window-mirror, because there she sees not herself, but the world around her--and she sees it from two sides--but it has not occurred to her that she can be seen by the world, too.... A handsome old lady, after all....

_Now the_ GHOST, _wrapped in winding sheets, comes out of the entrance_.

STUDENT. Good God, what is that I see?

HUMMEL. What _do_ you see?

STUDENT. Don't _you_ see?... There, at the entrance.... The dead man?

HUMMEL. I see nothing at all, but that was what I expected. Tell me....

STUDENT. He comes out in the street.... [_Pause_] Now he turns his head to look at the flag.

HUMMEL. What did I tell you? And you may be sure that he will count the wreaths and study the visiting-cards attached to them.... And I pity anybody that is missing!

STUDENT. Now he goes around the corner....

HUMMEL. He wants to count the poor at the other entrance.... The poor are so decorative, you know.... "Followed by the blessings of many".... But he won't get any blessing from me!--Between us, he was a big rascal!

STUDENT. But charitable....

HUMMEL. A charitable rascal, who always had in mind the splendid funeral he expected to get.... When he knew that his end was near, he cheated the state out of fifty thousand crowns.... And now his daughter goes about with ... another woman's husband, and wonders what is in his will.... Yes, the rascal can hear every word we say, and he is welcome to it!--There comes Johansson now.

JOHANSSON _enters from the left_.

HUMMEL. Report!

JOHANSSON _can be seen speaking, but not a word of what he says is heard_.

HUMMEL. Not at home, you say? Oh, you are no good!--Any telegram?--Not a thing.... Go on!--Six o'clock to-night?--That's fine!--An extra, you say?--With his full name?--Arkenholtz, a student, yes.... Born.... Parents.... That's splendid! I think it's beginning to rain.... What did he say?--Is that so?--He won't?--Well, then he must!--Here comes the Dandy.... Push me around the corner, Johansson, so I can hear what the poor people have to say.... [_To the_ STUDENT] And you had better wait for me here, Arkenholtz.... Do you understand?--[_To_ JOHANSSON] Hurry up now, hurry up!

JOHANSSON _pushes the chair into the side street and out of sight. The_ STUDENT _remains on the same spot, looking at the_ YOUNG LADY, _who is using a small rake to loosen up the earth in her pots. The_ DANDY _enters and joins the_ DARK LADY, _who has been walking back and forth on the sidewalk. He is in mourning_.

DANDY. Well, what is there to do about it? We simply have to wait.

DARK LADY. But I can't wait!

DANDY. Is that so? Then you'll have to go to the country.

DARK LADY. I don't want to!

DANDY. Come this way, or they'll hear what we are saying.

_They go toward the advertising column and continue their talk inaudibly_.

JOHANSSON. [_Entering from the right; to the_ STUDENT] My master asks you not to forget that other thing.

STUDENT. [_Dragging his words_] Look here.... Tell me, please.... Who _is_ your master?

JOHANSSON. Oh, he's so many things, and he has been everything....

STUDENT. Is he in his right mind?

JOHANSSON. Who can tell?--All his life he has been looking for one born on Sunday, he says--which does not mean that it must be true....

STUDENT. What is he after? Is he a miser?

JOHANSSON. He wants to rule.... The whole day long he travels about in his chair like the god of thunder himself He looks at houses, tears them down, opens up new streets, fills the squares with buildings.... At the same time he breaks into houses, sneaks through open windows, plays havoc with human destinies, kills his enemies, and refuses to forgive anything.... Can you imagine that a cripple like him has been a Don Juan--but one who has always lost the women he loved?

STUDENT. How can you make those things go together?

JOHANSSON. He is so full of guile that he can make the women leave him when he is tired of them.... Just now he is like a horse thief practising at a slave-market.... He steals human beings, and in all sorts of ways.... He has literally stolen me out of the hands of the law.... Hm.... yes.... I had been guilty of a slip. And no one but he knew of it. Instead of putting me in jail, he made a slave of me. All I get for my slavery is the food I eat, which might be better at that....

STUDENT. And what does he wish to do in this house here?

JOHANSSON. No, I don't want to tell! It's too complicated....

STUDENT. I think I'll run away from the whole story....

_The_ YOUNG LADY _drops a bracelet out of the window so that it falls on the sidewalk_.

JOHANSSON. Did you see the Young Lady drop her bracelet out of the window?

_Without haste, the_ STUDENT _picks up the bracelet and hands it to the_ YOUNG LADY, _who thanks him rather stiffly; then he returns to_ JOHANSSON.

JOHANSSON. So you want to run away? That is more easily said than done when _he_ has got you in his net.... And he fears nothing between heaven and earth except one thing or one person rather....

STUDENT. Wait--I think I know!

JOHANSSON. How could you?

STUDENT. I can guess! Is it not--a little milkmaid that he fears?

JOHANSSON. He turns his head away whenever he meets a milk wagon.... And at times he talks in his sleep.... He must have been in Hamburg at one time, I think....

STUDENT. Is this man to be trusted?

JOHANSSON. You may trust him--to do anything!

STUDENT. What is he doing around the corner now?

JOHANSSON. Watching the poor dropping a word here and a word there.... loosening a stone at a time ... until the whole house comes tumbling down, metaphorically speaking.... You see, I am an educated man, and I used to be a book dealer.... Are you going now?

STUDENT. I find it hard to be ungrateful.... Once upon a time he saved my father, and now he asks a small service in return....

JOHANSSON. What is it?

STUDENT. To go and see "The Valkyr"....

JOHANSSON. That's beyond me.... But he is always up to new tricks.... Look at him now, talking to the police-man! He is always thick with the police. He uses them. He snares them in their own interests. He ties their hands by arousing their expectations with false promises--while all the time he is pumping them.... You'll see that he is received in the Round Room before the day is over!

STUDENT. What does he want there? What has he to do with the Colonel?

JOHANSSON. I think I can guess, but know nothing with certainty. But you'll see for yourself when you get there!

STUDENT. I'll never get there.

JOHANSSON. That depends on yourself!--Go to "The Valkyr."

STUDENT. Is that the road?

JOHANSSON. Yes, if he has said so--Look at him there--look at him in his war chariot, drawn in triumph by the Beggars, who get nothing for their pains but a hint of a great treat to be had at his funeral.

OLD HUMMEL _appears standing in his invalid's chair, which is drawn by one of the_ BEGGARS, _and followed by the rest_.

HUMMEL. Give honour to the noble youth who, at the risk of his own, saved so many lives in yesterday's accident! Three cheers for Arkenholtz!

_The_ BEGGARS _bare their heads, but do not cheer. The_ YOUNG LADY _appears at her window, waving her handkerchief. The_ COLONEL _gazes at the scene from a window in the Round Room. The_ FIANCÉE _rises at her window. The_ MAID _appears on the balcony and hoists the flag to the top_.

HUMMEL. Applaud, citizens! It is Sunday, of course, but the ass in the pit and the ear in the field will absolve us. Although I was not born on a Sunday, I have the gift of prophecy and of healing, and on one occasion I brought a drowned person back to life.... That happened in Hamburg on a Sunday morning just like this....

_The_ MILKMAID _enters, seen only by the_ STUDENT _and_ HUMMEL. _She raises her arms with the movement of a drowning person, while gazing fixedly at_ HUMMEL.

HUMMEL. [_Sits down; then he crumbles in a heap, stricken with horror_] Get me out of here, Johansson! Quick!--Arkenholtz, don't forget "The Valkyr!"

STUDENT. What is the meaning of all this?

JOHANSSON. We'll see! We'll see!

_Curtain_.

SECOND SCENE

_In the Round Room. An oven of white, glazed bricks occupies the centre of the background. The mantelpiece is covered by a large mirror. An ornamental clock and candelabra stand on the mantelshelf_.

_At the right of the mantelpiece is a door leading into a hallway, back of which may be seen a room papered in green, with mahogany furniture. The_ COLONEL _is seated at a writing-desk, so that only his back is visible to the public_.

_The statue stands at the left, surrounded by palms and with draperies arranged so that it can be hidden entirely_.

_A door at the left of the mantelpiece opens on the Hyacinth Room, where the_ YOUNG LADY _is seen reading a book_.

BENGTSSON, _the valet, enters from the hallway, dressed in livery. He is followed by_ JOHANSSON _in evening dress with white tie_.

BENGTSSON. Now you'll have to do the waiting, Johansson, while I take the overclothes. Do you know how to do it?

JOHANSSON. Although I am pushing a war chariot in the daytime, as you know, I wait in private houses at night, and I have always dreamt of getting into this place.... Queer sort of people, hm?

BENGTSSON. Yes, a little out of the ordinary, one might say.

JOHANSSON. Is it a musicale, or what is it?

BENGTSSON. The usual spook supper, as we call it. They drink tea and don't say a word, or else the Colonel does all the talking. And then they munch their biscuits, all at the same time, so that it sounds like the gnawing of a lot of rats in an attic.

JOHANSSON. Why do you call it a spook supper?

BENGTSSON. Because they look like spooks.... And they have kept this up for twenty years--always the same people, saying the same things or keeping silent entirely, lest they be put to shame.

JOHANSSON. Is there not a lady in the house, too?

BENGTSSON. Yes, but she is a little cracked. She sits all the time in a closet, because her eyes can't bear the light. [_He points at a papered door_] She is in there now.

JOHANSSON. In there, you say?

BENGTSSON. I told you they were a little out of the ordinary....

JOHANSSON. How does she look?

BENGTSSON. Like a mummy.... Would you care to look at her? [_He opens the papered door_] There she is now!

JOHANSSON. Mercy!

MUMMY. [_Talking baby talk_] Why does he open the door? Haven't I told him to keep it closed?

BENGTSSON. [_In the same way_] Ta-ta-ta-ta! Polly must be nice now. Then she'll get something good. Pretty polly!

MUMMY. [_Imitating a parrot_] Pretty polly! Are you there, Jacob? Currrrr!

BENGTSSON. She thinks herself a parrot, and maybe she's right [_To the_ MUMMY] Whistle for us, Polly.

_The_ MUMMY _whistles_.

JOHANSSON. Much I have seen, but never the like of it!

BENGTSSON. Well, you see, a house gets mouldy when it grows old, and when people are too much together, tormenting each other all the time, they lose their reason. The lady of this house.... Shut up, Polly!... That mummy has been living here forty years--with the same husband, the same furniture, the same relatives, the same friends.... [_He closes the papered door_] And the happenings this house has witnessed! Well, it's beyond me.... Look at that statue. That's the selfsame lady in her youth.

JOHANSSON. Good Lord! Can that be the Mummy?

BENGTSSON. Yes, it's enough to make you weep!--And somehow, carried away by her own imagination, perhaps, she has developed some of the traits of the talkative parrot.... She can't stand cripples or sick people, for instance.... She can't bear the sight of her own daughter, because she is sick....

JOHANSSON. Is the Young Lady sick?

BENGTSSON. Don't you know that?

JOHANSSON. No.--And the Colonel--who is he?

BENGTSSON. That remains to be seen!

JOHANSSON. [_Looking at the statue_] It's horrible to think that.... How old is she now?

BENGTSSON. Nobody knows. But at thirty-five she is said to have looked like nineteen, and that's the age she gave to the Colonel.... In this house.... Do you know what that Japanese screen by the couch is used for? They call it the Death Screen, and it is placed in front of the bed when somebody is dying, just as they do in hospitals....

JOHANSSON. This must be an awful house! And the Student was longing for it as for paradise....

BENGTSSON. What student? Oh, I know! The young chap who is coming here to-night.... The Colonel and the Young Lady met him at the opera and took a great fancy to him at once.... Hm!... But now it's my turn to ask questions. Who's your master? The man in the invalid's chair?...

JOHANSSON. Well, well! Is he coming here, too?

BENGTSSON. He has not been invited.

JOHANSSON. He'll come without invitation--if necessary.

OLD HUMMEL _appears in the hallway, dressed in frock coat and high hat. He uses crutches, but moves without a noise, so that he is able to listen to the two servants._

BENGTSSON. He's a sly old guy, isn't he?

JOHANSSON. Yes, he's a good one!

BENGTSSON. He looks like the very devil.

JOHANSSON. He's a regular wizard, I think because he can pass through locked doors....

HUMMEL. [_Comes forward and pinches the ear of_ JOHANSSON] Look out, you scoundrel! [_To_ BENGTSSON] Tell the Colonel I am here.

BENGTSSON. We expect company....

HUMMEL. I know, but my visit is as good as expected, too, although not exactly desired, perhaps....

BENGTSSON. I see! What's the name? Mr. Hummel?

HUMMEL. That's right.

BENGTSSON _crosses the hallway to the Green Room, the door of which he closes behind him_.

HUMMEL. [_To_ JOHANSSON] Vanish!

JOHANSSON _hesitates_.

HUMMEL. Vanish, I say!

JOHANSSON _disappears through the hallway_.

HUMMEL. [_Looking around and finally stopping in front of the statue, evidently much surprised_] Amelia!--It is she!--She!

_He takes another turn about the room, picking up various objects to look at them; then he stops in front of the mirror to arrange his wig; finally he returns to the statue_.

MUMMY. [_In the closet_] Prrretty Polly!

HUMMEL. [_Startled_] What was that? Is there a parrot in the room? I don't see it!

MUMMY. Are you there, Jacob?

HUMMEL. The place is haunted!

MUMMY. Jacob!

HUMMEL. Now I am scared!... So that's the kind of secrets they have been keeping in this house! [_He stops in front of a picture with his back turned to the closet_] And that's he.... He!

MUMMY. [_Comes out of the closet and pulls the wig of_ HUMMEL] Currrrr! Is that Currrrr?

HUMMEL. [_Almost lifted off his feet by fright_] Good Lord in heaven!... Who are you?

MUMMY. [_Speaking in a normal voice_] Is that you, Jacob?

HUMMEL. Yes, my name is Jacob....

MUMMY. [_Deeply moved_] And my name is Amelia!

HUMMEL. Oh, no, no, no!--Merciful heavens!...

MUMMY. How I look! That's right!--And _have_ looked like that! [_Pointing to the statue_] Life is a pleasant thing, is it not?... I live mostly in the closet, both in order to see nothing and not to be seen.... But, Jacob, what do you want here?

HUMMEL. My child our child....

MUMMY. There she sits.

HUMMEL. Where?

MUMMY. There--in the Hyacinth Room.

HUMMEL. [_Looking at the_ YOUNG LADY] Yes, that is she! [_Pause_] And what does her father say.... I mean the Colonel.... your husband?

MUMMY. Once, when I was angry with him, I told him everything....

HUMMEL. And?...

MUMMY. He didn't believe me. All he said was: "That's what all women say when they wish to kill their husbands."--It is a dreadful crime, nevertheless. His whole life has been turned into a lie--his family tree, too. Sometimes I take a look in the peerage, and then I say to myself: "Here she is going about with a false birth certificate, just like any runaway servant-girl, and for such things people are sent to the reformatory."

HUMMEL. Well, it's quite common. I think I recall a certain incorrectness in regard to the date of your own birth.

MUMMY. It was my mother who started that.... I was not to blame for it.... And it was you, after all, who had the greater share in our guilt....

HUMMEL. No, what wrong we did was provoked by your husband when he took my fiancée away from me! I was born a man who cannot forgive until he has punished. To punish has always seemed an imperative duty to me--and so it seems still!

MUMMY. What are you looking for in this house? What do you want? How did you get in?--Does it concern my daughter? If you touch her, you must die!

HUMMEL. I mean well by her!

MUMMY. And you have to spare her father!

HUMMEL. No!

MUMMY. Then you must die ... in this very room ... back of that screen....

HUMMEL. Perhaps.... but I can't let go when I have got my teeth in a thing....

MUMMY. You wish to marry her to the Student? Why? He is nothing and has nothing.

HUMMEL. He will be rich, thanks to me.

MUMMY. Have you been invited for to-night?

HUMMEL. No, but I intend to get an invitation for your spook supper.

MUMMY. Do you know who will be here?

HUMMEL. Not quite.

MUMMY. The Baron--he who lives above us, and whose father-in-law was buried this afternoon....

HUMMEL. The man who is getting a divorce to marry the daughter of the Janitress.... The man who used to be--your lover!

MUMMY. Another guest will be your former fiancée, who was seduced by my husband....

HUMMEL. Very select company!

MUMMY. If the Lord would let us die! Oh, that we might only die!

HUMMEL. But why do you continue to associate?

MUMMY. Crime and guilt and secrets bind us together, don't you know? Our ties have snapped so that we have slipped apart innumerable times, but we are always drawn together again....

HUMMEL. I think the Colonel is coming.

MUMMY. I'll go in to Adèle, then.... [_Pause_] Consider what you do, Jacob! Spare him....

[_Pause; then she goes out_.

COLONEL. [_Enters, haughty and reserved_] Won't you be seated, please?

HUMMEL _seats himself with great deliberation; pause_.

COLONEL. [_Staring at his visitor_] You wrote this letter, sir?

HUMMEL. I did.

COLONEL. Your name is Hummel?

HUMMEL. It is. [_Pause_.

COLONEL. As I learn that you have bought up all my unpaid and overdue notes, I conclude that I am at your mercy. What do you want?

HUMMEL. Payment--in one way or another.

COLONEL. In what way?

HUMMEL. A very simple one. Let us not talk of the money. All you have to do is to admit me as a guest....

COLONEL. If a little thing like that will satisfy you....

HUMMEL. I thank you.

COLONEL. Anything more?

HUMMEL. Discharge Bengtsson.

COLONEL. Why should I do so? My devoted servant, who has been with me a lifetime, and who has the medal for long and faithful service.... Why should I discharge him?

HUMMEL. Those wonderful merits exist only in your imagination. He is not the man he seems to be.

COLONEL. _Who is_?

HUMMEL. [_Taken back_] True!--But Bengtsson must go!

COLONEL. Do you mean to order my household?

HUMMEL. I do ... as everything visible here belongs to me ... furniture, draperies, dinner ware, linen and other things!

COLONEL. What other things?

HUMMEL. Everything! All that is to be seen is mine! I own it!

COLONEL. Granted! But for all that, my coat of arms and my unspotted name belong to myself.

HUMMEL. No--not even that much! [_Pause_] You are not a nobleman!

COLONEL. Take care!

HUMMEL. [_Producing a document_] If you'll read this extract from the armorial, you will see that the family whose name you are using has been extinct for a century.

COLONEL. [_Reading the document_] I have heard rumours to that effect, but the name was my father's before it was mine.... [_Reading again_] That's right! Yes, you are right--I am not a nobleman! Not even that!--Then I may as well take off my signet-ring.... Oh, I remember now.... It belongs to you.... If you please!

HUMMEL. [_Accepting the ring and putting it into his pocket_] We had better continue. You are no colonel, either.

COLONEL. Am I not?

HUMMEL. No, you have simply held the title of colonel in the American volunteer service by special appointment. After the war in Cuba and the reorganisation of the army, all titles of that kind were abolished....

COLONEL. Is that true?

HUMMEL. [_With a gesture toward his pocket_] Do you wish to see for yourself?

COLONEL. No, it won't be necessary.--Who are you, anyhow, and with what right are you stripping me naked in this fashion?

HUMMEL. You'll see by and by. As to stripping you naked--do you know who you are in reality?

COLONEL. How dare you?

HUMMEL. Take off that wig, and have a look at yourself in the mirror. Take out that set of false teeth and shave off your moustache, too. Let Bengtsson remove the iron stays--and perhaps a certain X Y Z, a lackey, may begin to recognise himself--the man who used to visit the maid's chamber in a certain house for a bite of something good....

_The_ COLONEL _makes a movement toward a table on which stands a bell, but is checked by_ HUMMEL.

HUMMEL. Don't touch that bell, and don't call Bengtsson! If you do, I'll have him arrested.... Now the guests are beginning to arrive.... Keep your composure, and let us continue to play our old parts for a while.

COLONEL. Who are you? Your eyes and your voice remind me of somebody....

HUMMEL. Don't try to find out! Keep silent and obey!

STUDENT. [_Enters and bows to the_ COLONEL] Colonel!

COLONEL. I bid you welcome to my house, young man. Your splendid behaviour in connection with that great disaster has brought your name to everybody's lips, and I count it an honour to receive you here....

STUDENT. Being a man of humble birth, Colonel and considering your name and position....

COLONEL. May I introduce?--Mr. Arkenholtz--Mr. Hummel. The ladies are in there, Mr. Arkenholtz--if you please--I have a few more things to talk over with Mr. Hummel....

_Guided by the_ COLONEL, _the_ STUDENT _goes into the Hyacinth Room, where he remains visible, standing beside the_ YOUNG LADY _and talking very timidly to her_.

COLONEL. A splendid young chap--very musical--sings, and writes poetry.... If he were only a nobleman--if he belonged to our class, I don't think I should object....

HUMMEL. To what?

COLONEL. Oh, my daughter....

HUMMEL. _Your_ daughter, you say?--But apropos of that, why is she always sitting in that room?

COLONEL. She has to spend all her time in the Hyacinth Room when she is not out. That is a peculiarity of hers.... Here comes Miss Betty von Holstein-Kron--a charming woman--a Secular Canoness, with just enough money of her own to suit her birth and position....

Hummel. [_To__himself_] My fiancée!

_The_ FIANCÉE _enters. She is white-haired, and her looks indicate a slightly unbalanced mind_.

COLONEL. Miss von Holstein-Kron--Mr. Hummel.

_The_ FIANCÉE _curtseys in old-fashioned manner and takes a seat. The_ DANDY _enters and seats himself; he is in mourning and has a very mysterious look._

COLONEL. Baron Skansenkorge....

HUMMEL. [_Aside, without rising_] That's the jewelry thief, I think.... [_To the_ COLONEL] If you bring in the Mummy, our gathering will be complete.

COLONEL. [_Going to the door of the Hyacinth Room_] Polly!

MUMMY. [_Enters_] Currrrr!

COLONEL. How about the young people?

HUMMEL. No, not the young people! They must be spared.

_The company is seated in a circle, no one saying a word for a while_.

COLONEL. Shall we order the tea now?

HUMMEL. What's the use? No one cares for tea, and I can't see the need of pretending. [_Pause_.

COLONEL. Shall we make conversation?

HUMMEL. [_Speaking slowly and with frequent pauses._] Talk of the weather, which we know all about? Ask one another's state of health, which we know just as well? I prefer silence. Then thoughts become audible, and we can see the past. Silence can hide nothing--but words can. I read the other day that the differentiation of languages had its origin in the desire among savage peoples to keep their tribal secrets hidden from outsiders. This means that every language is a code, and he who finds the universal key can understand every language in the world--which does not prevent the secret from becoming revealed without any key at times, and especially when the fact of paternity is to be proved--but, of course, legal proof is a different matter. Two false witnesses suffice to prove, anything on which they agree, but you don't bring any witnesses along on the kind of expedition I have in mind. Nature herself has planted in man a sense of modesty, which tends to hide that which should be hidden. But we slip into situations unawares, and now and then a favourable chance will reveal the most cherished secret, stripping the impostor of his mask, and exposing the villain....

_Long pause during which everybody is subject to silent scrutiny by all the rest_.

HUMMEL. How silent everybody is! [_Long silence_] Here, for instance, in this respectable house, this attractive home, where beauty and erudition and wealth have joined hands.... [_Long silence_] All of us sitting here now--we know who we are, don't we? I don't need to tell.... And all of you know me, although you pretend ignorance.... In the next room is my daughter--_mine_, as you know perfectly well. She has lost the desire to live without knowing why.... The fact is that she has been pining away in this air charged with crime and deceit and falsehood of every kind.... That is the reason why I have looked for a friend in whose company she may enjoy the light and heat radiated by noble deeds [_Long silence_] Here is my mission in this house: to tear up the weeds, to expose the crimes, to settle all accounts, so that those young people may start life with a clean slate in a home that is my gift to them. [_Long silence_] Now I grant you safe retreat. Everybody may leave in his due turn. Whoever stays will be arrested. [_Long silence_] Do you hear that clock ticking like the deathwatch hidden in a wall? Can you hear what it says?--"It's time! It's time!"--When it strikes in a few seconds, your time will be up, and then you can go, but not before. You may notice, too, that the clock shakes its fist at you before it strikes. Listen! There it is! "Better beware," it says.... And I can strike, too [_He raps the top of a table with one of his crutches_] Do you hear?

_For a while everybody remains silent_.

MUMMY. [_Goes up to the dock and stops it; then she speaks in a normal and dignified tone_] But I can stop time in its course. I can wipe out the past and undo what is done. Bribes won't do that, nor will threats--but suffering and repentance will [_She goes to_ HUMMEL] We are miserable human creatures, and we know it. We have erred and we have sinned--we, like everybody else. We are not what we seem, but at bottom we are better than ourselves because we disapprove of our own misdeeds. And when you, Jacob Hummel, with your assumed name, propose to sit in judgment on us, you merely prove yourself worse than all the rest. You are not the one you seem to be--no more than we! You are a thief of human souls! You stole mine once upon a time by means of false promises. You killed the Consul, whom they buried this afternoon--strangling him with debts. You are now trying to steal the soul of the Student with the help of an imaginary claim against his father, who never owed you a farthing....

_Having vainly tried to rise and say something_, HUMMEL _sinks back into his chair; as the_ MUMMY _continues her speech he seems to shrink and lose volume more and more_.

MUMMY. There is one dark spot in your life concerning which I am not certain, although I have my suspicions.... I believe Bengtsson can throw light on it.

[_She rings the table-bell_.

HUMMEL. No! Not Bengtsson! Not him!

MUMMY. So he _does_ know? [_She rings again_.

_The_ MILKMAID _appears in the hallway, but is only seen by_ HUMMEL, _who shrinks back in horror. Then_ BENGTSSON _enters, and the_ MILKMAID _disappears_.

MUMMY. Do you know this man, Bengtsson?

BENGTSSON. Oh yes, I know him, and he knows me. Life has its ups and downs, as you know. I have been in his service, and he has been in mine. For two years he came regularly to our kitchen to be fed by our cook. Because he had to be at work at a certain hour, she made the dinner far ahead of time, and we had to be satisfied with the warmed-up leavings of that beast. He drank the soup-stock, so that we got nothing but water. Like a vampire, the sucked the house of all nourishment, until we became reduced to mere skeletons--and he nearly got us into jail when we dared to call the cook a thief. Later I met that man in Hamburg, where he had another name. Then he was a money-lender, a regular leech. While there, he was accused of having lured a young girl out on the ice in order to drown her, because she had seen him commit a crime, and he was afraid of being exposed....

MUMMY. [_Making a pass with her hand over the face of_ HUMMEL _as if removing a mask_] That's you! And now, give up the notes and the will!

JOHANSSON _appears in the hallway and watches the scene with great interest, knowing that his slavery will now come to an end_.

HUMMEL _produces a bundle of papers and throws them on the table_.

MUMMY. [_Stroking the back of_ HUMMEL] Polly! Are you there, Jacob?

HUMMEL. [_Talking like a parrot_] Here is Jacob!--Pretty Polly! Currrr!

MUMMY. May the clock strike?

HUMMEL. [_With a clucking noise like that of a clock preparing to strike_] The dock may strike! [_Imitating a cuckoo-clock]_ Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo....

MUMMY. [_Opening the closet door_] Now the clock has struck! Rise and enter the closet where I have spent twenty years bewailing our evil deed. There you will find a rope that may represent the one with which you strangled the Consul as well as the one with which you meant to strangle your benefactor.... Go!

HUMMEL _enters the closet_.

MUMMY. [_Closes the door after him_] Put up the screen, Bengtsson.... The Death Screen!

BENGTSSON _places the screen in front of the door._

MUMMY. It is finished! God have mercy on his soul!

ALL. Amen!

_Long silence. Then the_ YOUNG LADY _appears in the Hyacinth Room with the_ STUDENT. _She seats herself at a harp and begins a prelude, which changes into an accompaniment to the following recitative_:

STUDENT. [_Singing_]

"Seeing the sun, it seemed to my fancy That I beheld the Spirit that's hidden. Man must for ever reap what he planted: Happy is he who has done no evil. Wrong that was wrought in moments of anger Never by added wrong can be righted. Kindness shown to the man whose sorrow Sprang from your deed, will serve you better. Fear and guilt have their home together: Happy indeed is the guiltless man!"

_Curtain_.

THIRD SCENE

_A room furnished in rather bizarre fashion. The general effect of it is Oriental. Hyacinths of different colours are scattered everywhere. On the mantelshelf of the fireplace is seen a huge, seated Buddha, in whose lap rests a bulb. From that bulb rises the stalk of a shallot_ (Allium Ascalonicum), _spreading aloft its almost globular cluster of white, starlike flowers_.

_An open door in the rear wall, toward the right-hand side, leads to the Round Room, where the_ COLONEL _and the_ MUMMY _are seated. They don't stir and don't utter a word. A part of the Death Screen is also visible_.

_Another door, at the left, leads to the pantry and the kitchen. The_ YOUNG LADY _[Adèle] and the_ STUDENT _are discovered near a table. She is seated at her harp, and he stands beside her_.

YOUNG LADY. Sing to my flowers.

STUDENT. Is this the flower of your soul?

YOUNG LADY. The one and only.--Are you fond of the hyacinth?

STUDENT. I love it above all other flowers. I love its virginal shape rising straight and slender out of the bulb that rests on the water and sends its pure white rootlets down into the colourless fluid. I love the colour of it, whether innocently white as snow or sweetly yellow as honey; whether youthfully pink or maturely red; but above all if blue--with the deep-eyed, faith-inspiring blue of the morning sky. I love these flowers, one and all; love them more than pearls or gold, and have loved them ever since I was a child. I have always admired them, too, because they possess every handsome quality that I lack.... And yet....

YOUNG LADY. What?

STUDENT. My love is unrequited. These beautiful blossoms hate me.

YOUNG LADY. How do you mean?

STUDENT. Their fragrance, powerful and pure as the winds of early spring, which have passed over melting snow--it seems to confuse my senses, to make me deaf and blind, to crowd me out of the room, to bombard me with poisoned arrows that hurt my heart and set my head on fire. Do you know the legend of that flower?

YOUNG LADY. Tell me about it.

STUDENT. Let us first interpret its symbolism. The bulb is the earth, resting on the water or buried in the soil. From that the stalk rises, straight as the axis of the universe. At its upper end appear the six-pointed, starlike flowers.

YOUNG LADY. Above the earth--the stars! What lofty thought! Where did you find it? How did you discover it?

STUDENT. Let me think.... In your eyes!--It is, therefore, an image of the Cosmos. And that is the reason why Buddha is holding the earth-bulb in his lap, brooding on it with a steady gaze, in order that he may behold it spread outward and upward as it becomes transformed into a heaven.... This poor earth must turn into a heaven! That is what Buddha is waiting for!

YOUNG LADY. I see now.... Are not the snow crystals six-pointed, too, like the hyacinth-lily?

STUDENT. You are right! Thus the snow crystal is a falling star....

YOUNG LADY. And the snowdrop is a star of snow--grown out of the snow.

STUDENT. But the largest and most beautiful of all the stars in the firmament, the red and yellow Sirius, is the narcissus, with its yellow-and-red cup and its six white rays....

YOUNG LADY. Have you seen the shallot bloom?

STUDENT. Indeed, I have! It hides its flowers within a ball, a globe resembling the celestial one, and strewn, like that, with white stars....

YOUNG LADY. What a tremendous thought! Whose was it?

STUDENT. Yours!

YOUNG LADY. No, yours!

STUDENT. Ours, then! We have jointly given birth to something: we are wedded....

YOUNG LADY. Not yet.

STUDENT. What more remains?

YOUNG LADY. To await the coming ordeal in patience!

STUDENT. I am ready for it. [_Pause_] Tell me! Why do your parents sit there so silently, without saying a single word?

YOUNG LADY. Because they have nothing to say to each other, and because neither one believes what the other says. This is the way my father puts it: "What is the use of talking, when you can't fool each other anyhow?"

STUDENT. That's horrible....

YOUNG LADY. Here comes the Cook.... Look! how big and fat she is!

STUDENT. What does she want?

YOUNG LADY. Ask me about the dinner.... You see, I am looking after the house during my mother's illness.

STUDENT. Have we to bother about the kitchen, too?

YOUNG LADY. We must eat.... Look at that Cook.... I can't bear the sight of her....

STUDENT. What kind of a monster is she?

Young Lady. She belongs to the Hummel family of vampires. She is eating us alive.

STUDENT. Why don't you discharge her?

YOUNG LADY. Because she won't leave. We can do nothing with her, and we have got her for the sake of our sins.... Don't you see that we are pining and wasting away?

STUDENT. Don't you get enough to eat?

YOUNG LADY. Plenty of dishes, but with all the nourishment gone from the food. She boils the life out of the beef, and drinks the stock herself, while we get nothing but fibres and water. In the same way, when we have roast, she squeezes it dry. Then she eats the gravy and drinks the juice herself. She takes the strength and savour out of everything she touches. It is as if her eyes were leeches. When she has had coffee, we get the grounds. She drinks the wine and puts water into the bottles....

STUDENT. Kick her out!

YOUNG LADY. We can't!

STUDENT. Why not?

YOUNG LADY. We don't know! But she won't leave! And nobody can do anything with her. She has taken all our strength away from us.

STUDENT. Will you let me dispose of her?

YOUNG LADY. No! It has to be as it is, I suppose.--Here she is now. She will ask me what I wish for dinner, and I tell her, and then she will make objections, and in the end she has her own way.

STUDENT. Why don't you leave it to her entirely?

YOUNG LADY. She won't let me.

STUDENT. What a strange house! It seems to be bewitched!

YOUNG LADY. It is!--Now she turned back on seeing you here.

COOK. [_Appearing suddenly in the doorway at that very moment_] Naw, that was not the reason.

[_She grins so that every tooth can be seen_.

STUDENT. Get out of here!

COOK. When it suits me! [_Pause_] Now it does suit me!

[_She disappears_.

YOUNG LADY. Don't lose your temper! You must practise patience. She is part of the ordeal we have to face in this house. We have a chambermaid, too, after whom we have to put everything back where it belongs.

STUDENT. Now I am sinking! _Cor in aethere!_ Music!

YOUNG LADY. Wait!

STUDENT. Music!

YOUNG LADY. Patience!--This is named the Room of Ordeal.... It is beautiful to look at, but is full of imperfections.

STUDENT. Incredible! Yet such things have to be borne. It is very beautiful, although a little cold. Why don't you have a fire?

YOUNG LADY. Because the smoke comes into the room.

STUDENT. Have the chimney swept!

YOUNG LADY. It doesn't help.--Do you see that writing-table?

STUDENT. Remarkably handsome!

YOUNG LADY. But one leg is too short. Every day I put a piece of cork under that leg. Every day the chambermaid takes it away when she sweeps the room. Every day I have to cut a new piece. Both my penholder and my inkstand are covered with ink every morning, and I have to clean them after that woman--as sure as the sun rises. [_Pause]_ What is the worst thing you can think of?

STUDENT. To count the wash. Ugh!

YOUNG LADY. That's what I have to do. Ugh!

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To be waked out of your sleep and have to get up and dose the window--which the chambermaid has left unlatched.

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To get up on a ladder and tie on the cord which the chambermaid has torn from the window-shade.

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To sweep after her; to dust after her; to start the fire again, after she has merely thrown some wood into the fireplace! To watch the damper in the fireplace; to wipe every glass; to set the table over again; to open the wine-bottles; to see that the rooms are aired; to make over your bed; to rinse the water-bottle that is green with sediment; to buy matches and soap, which are always lacking; to wipe the chimneys and cut the wicks in order to keep the lamps from smoking and in order to keep them from going out when we have company, I have to fill them myself....

STUDENT. Music!

YOUNG LADY. Wait! The labour comes first--the labour of keeping the filth of life at a distance.

STUDENT. But you are wealthy, and you have two servants?

YOUNG LADY. What does that help? What would it help to have three? It is troublesome to live, and at times I get tired.... Think, then, of adding a nursery!

STUDENT. The greatest of joys....

YOUNG LADY. And the costliest.... Is life really worth so much trouble?

STUDENT. It depends on the reward you expect for your labours.... To win your hand I would face anything.

YOUNG LADY. Don't talk like that. You can never get me.

STUDENT. Why?

YOUNG LADY. You mustn't ask.

[_Pause_.

STUDENT. You dropped your bracelet out of the window....

YOUNG LADY. Yes, because my hand has grown too small....

[_Pause_.

_The_ COOK _appears with a bottle of Japanese soy in her hand_.

YOUNG LADY. There is the one that eats me and all the rest alive.

STUDENT. What has she in her hand?

COOK. This is my colouring bottle that has letters on it looking like scorpions. It's the soy that turns water into bouillon, and that takes the place of gravy. You can make cabbage soup out of it, or mock-turtle soup, if you prefer.

STUDENT. Out with you!

COOK. You take the sap out of us, and we out of you. We keep the blood for ourselves and leave you the water--with the colouring. It's the colour that counts! Now I shall leave, but I stay just the same--as long as I please!

[_She goes out_.

STUDENT. Why has Bengtsson got a medal?

YOUNG LADY. On account of his great merits.

STUDENT. Has he no faults?

YOUNG LADY. Yes, great ones, but faults bring you no medals, you know.

[_Both smile_.

STUDENT. You have a lot of secrets in this house....

YOUNG LADY. As in all houses.... Permit us to keep ours! [_Pause_.

STUDENT. Do you care for frankness?

YOUNG LADY. Within reason.

STUDENT. At times I am seized with a passionate craving to say all I think.... Yet I know that the world would go to pieces if perfect frankness were the rule. [_Pause_ I attended a funeral the other day--in one of the churches--and it was very solemn and beautiful.

YOUNG LADY. That of Mr. Hummel?

STUDENT. Yes, that of my pretended benefactor. An elderly friend of the deceased acted as mace-bearer and stood at the head of the coffin. I was particularly impressed by the dignified manner and moving words of the minister. I had to cry--everybody cried.... A number of us went to a restaurant afterward, and there I learned that the man with the mace had been rather too friendly with the dead man's son....

_The_ YOUNG LADY _stares at him, trying to make out the meaning of his words_.

STUDENT. I learned, too, that the dead man had borrowed money of his son's devoted friend.... [_Pause_] And the next day the minister was arrested for embezzling the church funds.--Nice, isn't it?

YOUNG LADY. Oh! [_Pause_.

STUDENT. Do you know what I am thinking of you now?

YOUNG LADY. Don't tell, or I'll die!

STUDENT. I must, lest _I_ die!

YOUNG LADY. It is only in the asylum you say all that you think....

STUDENT. Exactly! My father died in a madhouse....

YOUNG LADY. Was he sick?

STUDENT. No, perfectly well, and yet mad. It broke out at last, and these were the circumstances. Like all of us, he was surrounded by a circle of acquaintances whom he called friends for the sake of convenience, and they were a lot of scoundrels, of course, as most people are. He had to have some society, however, as he couldn't sit all alone. As you know, no one tells people what he thinks of them under ordinary circumstances, and my father didn't do so either. He knew that they were false, and he knew the full extent of their perfidy, but, being a wise man and well brought up, he remained always polite. One day he gave a big party.... It was in the evening, naturally, and he was tired out by a hard day's work. Then the strain of keeping his thoughts to himself while talking a lot of damned rot to his guests.... [_The_ YOUNG LADY _is visibly shocked_] Well, while they were still at the table, he rapped for silence, raised his glass, and began to speak.... Then something loosed the trigger, and in a long speech he stripped the whole company naked, one by one, telling them all he knew about their treacheries. At last, when utterly tired out, he sat down on the table itself and told them all to go to hell!

YOUNG LADY. Oh!

STUDENT. I was present, and I shall never forget what happened after that. My parents had a fight, the guests rushed for the doors--and my father was taken to a madhouse, where he died! [_Pause_] To keep silent too long is like letting water stagnate so that it rots. That is what has happened in this house. There is something rotten here. And yet I thought it paradise itself when I saw you enter here the first time.... It was a Sunday morning, and I stood gazing into these rooms. Here I saw a Colonel who was no colonel. I had a generous benefactor who was a robber and had to hang himself. I saw a Mummy who was not a mummy, and a maiden--how about the maidenhood, by the by?... Where is beauty to be found? In nature, and in my own mind when it has donned its Sunday clothes. Where do we find honour and faith? In fairy-tales and childish fancies. Where can I find anything that keeps its promise? Only in my own imagination!... Your flowers have poisoned me and now I am squirting their poison back at you.... I asked you to become my wife in a home full of poetry, and song, and music; and then the Cook appeared.... _Sursum corda!_ Try once more to strike fire and purple out of the golden harp.... Try, I ask you, I implore you on my knees.... [_As she does not move_] Then I must do it myself! [_He picks up the harp, but is unable to make its strings sound_] It has grown deaf and dumb! Only think that the most beautiful flower of all can be so poisonous--that it can be more poisonous than any other one.... There must be a curse on all creation and on life itself.... Why did you not want to become my bride? Because the very well-spring of life within you has been sickened.... Now I can feel how that vampire in the kitchen is sucking my life juices.... She must be a Lamia, one of those that suck the blood of children. It is always in the servants' quarters that the seed-leaves of the children are nipped, if it has not already happened in the bedroom.... There are poisons that blind you, and others that open your eyes more widely. I must have been born with that second kind of poison, I fear, for I cannot regard what is ugly as beautiful, or call evil good--I cannot! They say that Jesus Christ descended into hell. It refers merely to his wanderings on this earth--his descent into that madhouse, that jail, that morgue, the earth. The madmen killed him when he wished to liberate them, but the robber was set free. It is always the robber who gets sympathy! Woe! Woe is all of us! Saviour of the World, save us--we are perishing!

_Toward the end of the_ STUDENT'S _speech, the_ YOUNG LADY _has drooped more and more. She seems to be dying. At last she manages to reach a bell and rings for_ BENGTSSON, _who enters shortly afterward_.

YOUNG LADY. Bring the screen! Quick! I am dying!

BENGTSSON _fetches the screen, opens it and places it so that the_ YOUNG LADY _is completely hidden behind_.

STUDENT. The liberator is approaching! Be welcome, thou pale and gentle one!--Sleep, you beauteous, unhappy and innocent creature, who have done nothing to deserve your own sufferings! Sleep without dreaming, and when you wake again--may you be greeted by a sun that does not burn, by a home without dust, by friends without stain, by a love without flaw! Thou wise and gentle Buddha, who sitst waiting there to see a heaven sprout from this earth, endow us with patience in the hour of trial, and with purity of will, so that thy hope be not put to shame!

_The strings of the harp begin to hum softly, and a white light pours into the room_.

STUDENT. [_Singing_]

"Seeing the sun, it seemed to my fancy That I beheld the Spirit that's hidden. Man must for ever reap what he planted: Happy is he who has done no evil. Wrong that was wrought in moments of anger Never by added wrong can be righted. Kindness shown to the man whose sorrow Sprang from your deed, will serve you better. Fear and guilt have their home together: Happy indeed is the guiltless man!"[1]

_A faint moaning sound is heard from behind the screen_.

STUDENT. You poor little child--you child of a world of illusion, guilt, suffering, and death--a world of eternal change, disappointment, and pain--may the Lord of Heaven deal mercifully with you on your journey!

_The whole room disappears, and in its place appears Boecklin's "The Island of Death" Soft music, very quiet and pleasantly wistful, is heard from without_.

_Curtain_.

[1] The lines recited by the _STUDENT_ are a paraphrase of several passages from "The Song of the Sun" in the Poetic Edda. It is characteristic of Strindberg's attitude during his final period that this Eddic poem, which apparently has occupied his mind great deal, as he has used it a number of times in "The Bridal Crown" also, is the only one of that ancient collection which is unmistakably Christian in its colouring. It has a certain apocryphal reputation and is not regarded on a par with the other contents of the Poetic Edda.

THE FIRST WARNING

(FÖRSTA VARNINGEN)

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT

1893

CHARACTERS

_The_ HUSBAND, _thirty-seven (Axel Brunner)_ _The_ WIFE, _thirty-six (Olga Brunner)_ ROSE, _fifteen_ _The_ BARONESS, _her mother, forty-seven_ _A_ MAID

_The scene is laid in Germany, about_ 1890.

_A German dining-room, with a rectangular dinner-table occupying the middle of the floor. A huge wardrobe stands at the right. There is an oven of glazed bricks_.

_The door in the background stands open, disclosing a landscape with vineyards, above which appears a church spire_.

_At the left is a door papered like the rest of the wait. A travelling-bag is placed on a chair by the wardrobe_.

_The_ WIFE _is writing at the table, on which lie a bunch of flowers and a pair of gloves_.

HUSBAND. [_Entering_] Good morning--although it's noon already. Did you sleep well?

WIFE. Splendidly, considering the circumstances.

HUSBAND. Yes, we might have broken away a little earlier from that party last night....

WIFE. I seem to remember that you made the same remark a number of times during the night....

HUSBAND. [_Playing with the flowers_] Do you really remember that much?

WIFE. I remember also that you got mad because I sang too much.... Please don't spoil my flowers!

HUSBAND. Which previously belonged to the Captain, I suppose?

WIFE. Yes, and which probably belonged to the gardener before the florist got them. But now they are mine.

HUSBAND. [_Throwing away the flowers_] It's a nice habit they have in this place--of sending flowers to other people's wives.

WIFE. I think it would have been well for you to go to bed a little earlier.

HUSBAND. I am perfectly convinced that the Captain was of the same opinion. But as my one choice was to stay and be made ridiculous, or go home alone and be made equally ridiculous, I preferred to stay....

WIFE. ... And make yourself ridiculous.

HUSBAND. Can you explain why you care to be the wife of a ridiculous man? I should never care to be the husband of a ridiculous woman.

WIFE. You are to be pitied!

HUSBAND. Right you are. Frequently I have thought so myself. But do you know what is the most tragical feature of my ridiculousness?

WIFE. I am sure your own answer will be much cleverer than any one I could give.

HUSBAND. It is--that I am in love with my wife after fifteen years of marriage....

WIFE. Fifteen years! Have you begun to use a pedometer?

HUSBAND. For the measurement of my thorny path, you mean? No. But you, who are dancing on roses, might do well in counting your steps To me you are still as young as ever--unfortunately--while my own hair is turning grey. But as we are of the same age, my looks should tell you that you must be growing old yourself....

WIFE. And that is what you are waiting for?

HUSBAND. Exactly. How many times have I not wished that you were old and ugly, that you were pock-marked, that your teeth were gone, just to have you to myself and be rid of this worry which never leaves me!

WIFE. How charming! And once you had me old and ugly, then everything would be so very peaceful until you began to worry about somebody else, and I was left to enjoy all that peace alone, by myself.

HUSBAND. No!

WIFE. Yes! It has been well proved that your love loses its fervour the moment you have no reason to be jealous. Do you remember last summer, when there was not a soul on that island but we two? You were away all day, fishing, hunting, getting up an appetite, putting on flesh--and developing a self-assurance that was almost insulting.

HUSBAND. And yet I recall being jealous--of the hired man.

WIFE. Merciful Heavens!

HUSBAND. Yes, I noticed that you couldn't give him an order without making conversation; that you couldn't send him out to cut some wood without first having inquired about the state of his health, his future prospects, and his love-affairs.... You are blushing, I think?

WIFE. Because I am ashamed of you....

HUSBAND ... Who....

WIFE. ... Have no sense of shame whatever.

HUSBAND. Yes, so you say. But will you please tell me why you hate me?

WIFE. I don't hate you. I simply despise you! Why? Probably for the same reason that makes me despise all men as soon as they--what do you call it?--are in love with me. I am like that, and I can't tell why.

HUSBAND. So I have observed, and my warmest wish has been that I might hate you, so that you might love me. Woe is the man who loves his own wife!

WIFE. Yes, you are to be pitied, and so am I, but what can be done?

HUSBAND. Nothing. We have roved and roamed for seven years, hoping that some circumstance, some chance, might bring about a change. I have tried to fall in love with others, and have failed. In the meantime your eternal contempt and my own continued ridiculousness have stripped me of all courage, all faith in myself, all power to act. Six times I have run away from you--and now I shall make my seventh attempt. [_He rises and picks up the travelling-bag_.

WIFE. So those little trips of yours were attempts to run away?

HUSBAND. Futile attempts! The last time I got as far as Genoa. I went to the galleries, but saw no pictures--only you. I went to the opera, but heard nobody--only your voice back of every note. I went to a Pompeian café, and the one woman that pleased me looked like you--or seemed to do so later.

WIFE. [_Revolted_] You have visited places of that kind?

HUSBAND. Yes, that far have I been carried by my love--and by my virtue, which has embarrassed me by making me ridiculous.

WIFE. That's the end of everything between us two!

HUSBAND. So I suppose, as I can't make you jealous.

WIFE. No, I don't know what it is to be jealous--not even of Rose, who loves you to distraction.

HUSBAND. How ungrateful of me not to notice it! On the other hand, I have had my suspicions of the old Baroness, who is all the time finding excuses for visiting that big wardrobe over there. But as she is our landlady, and the furniture belongs to her, I may be mistaken as to the motive that makes our rooms so attractive to her.... Now I'll get dressed, and in half an hour I shall be gone--without any farewells, if you please!

WIFE. You seem rather afraid of farewells.

HUSBAND. Particularly when you are concerned in them!

_He goes out. The_ WIFE _remains alone a few moments. Then_ ROSE _enters. She is carelessly dressed, and her hair is down. A scarf wrapped about her head and covering her cheeks and chin indicates toothache. There is a hole on the left sleeve of her dress, which ends half-way between her knees and her ankles_.

WIFE. Well, Rose!--What's the matter, child?

ROSE. Good morning, Mrs. Brunner. I have such a toothache that I wish I were dead!

WIFE. Poor little thing!

ROSE. To-morrow is the Corpus Christi festival, and I was to walk in the procession--and to-day I should be binding my wreath of roses, and Mr. Axel has promised to help me with it.... Oh, those teeth!

WIFE. Let me see if there are any signs of decay--open your mouth now!--What wonderful teeth you have! Perfect pearls, my dear child! [_She kisses_ ROSE _on the mouth_.

ROSE. [_Annoyed_] You mustn't kiss me, Mrs. Olga! You mustn't! I don't want it! [_She climbs up on the table and puts her feet on one of the chairs_ ] Really, I don't know what I want! I should have liked to go to that party yesterday--but I was forced to stay at home all by myself in order to get my lessons done--just as if I were nothing but a child--and then I have to sit on the same bench with those kids! But all the same I won't let the Captain chuck me under the chin any longer, for I am no child! No, I am not! And if my mother tries to pull my hair again--I don't know what I'll do to her!

WIFE. What's the matter, my dear Rose? What has happened, anyhow?

ROSE. I don't know what is the matter, but I have shooting pains in my head and in my teeth, and I feel as if I had a red-hot iron in my back--and I am disgusted with life. I should like to drown myself. I should like to run away, and go from one fair to another, and sing, and be insulted by all sorts of impudent fellows....

WIFE. Listen, Rose! Listen to me now!

ROSE. I wish I had a baby! Oh, I wish it were not such an awful shame to have a baby! Oh, Mrs. Olga [_She catches sight of the travelling-bag_] Who is going away?

WIFE. My ... my husband.

ROSE. Then you have been nasty to him again, Mrs. Olga.--Where is he going? Is he going far away? When will he be back?

WIFE. I--_I_ know nothing at all!

ROSE. Oh, you don't? Haven't you asked him even? [_She begins to ransack the bag_] But I--_I_ can see that he is going far away, because here is his passport. Very far, I am sure! How far, do you think?--Oh, Mrs. Olga, why can't you be nice to him, when he is so kind to you?

[_She throws herself weeping into the arms of Mrs. Brunner_.

WIFE. Now, now, my dear child! Poor little girl--is she crying? Poor, innocent heart!

ROSE. I like Mr. Axel so much!

WIFE. And you are not ashamed of saying so to his own wife? And you want me to console you--you, who are my little rival?--Well, have a good cry, my dear child. That helps a whole lot.

ROSE. [_Tearing herself away_] No! If I don't want to cry, I don't have to! And if it suits me to pick up what you are throwing away, I'll do so!--I don't ask any one's permission to like anybody or anything!

WIFE. Well, well, well! But are you so sure that he likes you?

ROSE. [_Throwing herself into the elder woman's arms again, weeping_] No, I am not.

WIFE. [_Tenderly, as if talking to a baby_] And now perhaps you want me to ask Mr. Axel to like you? Is that what Mrs. Olga has to do?

ROSE. [_Weeping_] Ye-es!--And he mustn't go away! He mustn't!--Please be nice to him, Mrs. Olga! Then he won't go away.

WIFE. What in the world am I going to do, you little silly?

ROSE. I don't know. But you might let him kiss you as much as he wishes.... I was watching you in the garden the other day, when he wanted, and you didn't--and then I thought....

BARONESS. [_Entering_] Sorry to disturb you, madam, but with your permission I should like to get into the wardrobe.

WIFE. [_Rising_] You're perfectly welcome, Baroness.

BARONESS. Oh, there is Rose.--So you are up again, and I thought you were in bed!--Go back to your lessons at once.

ROSE. But you know, mamma, we have no school to-morrow because of the festival.

BARONESS. You had better go anyhow, and don't bother Mr. and Mrs. Brunner all the time.

WIFE. [_Edging toward the door in the background_] Oh, Rose is not bothering us at all. We couldn't be better friends than we are.... We were just going into the garden to pick some flowers, and then we meant to try on the white dress Rose is to wear to-morrow.

ROSE. [_Disappears through the door in the background with a nod of secret understanding to the_ WIFE] Thank you!

BARONESS. You are spoiling Rose fearfully.

WIFE. A little kindness won't spoil anybody, and least of all a girl like Rose, who has a remarkable heart and a head to match it.

_The_ BARONESS _is digging around in the wardrobe for something. The_ WIFE _stands in the doorway in the rear. Entering by the door at the left with a number of packages, the_ HUSBAND _exchanges a glance of mutual understanding with his wife. Then hath watch the_ BARONESS _smilingly for a moment. At last the_ WIFE _goes out, and the_ HUSBAND _begins to put his packages into the travelling-bag_.

BARONESS. Pardon me for disturbing you.... I'll be through in a moment....

HUSBAND. Please don't mind me, Baroness.

BARONESS. [_Emerging from the wardrobe_] Are you going away again, Mr. Brunner?

HUSBAND. I am.

BARONESS. Far?

HUSBAND. Perhaps--and perhaps not.

BARONESS. Don't you know?

HUSBAND. I never know anything about my own fate after having placed it in the hands of another person.

BARONESS. Will you pardon me a momentary impertinence, Mr. Brunner?

HUSBAND. That depends.... You are very friendly with my wife, are you not?

BARONESS. As friendly as two women can be with each other. But my age, my experience of life, my temperament.... [_She checks herself abruptly_] However--I have seen that you are unhappy, and as I have suffered in the same way myself, I know that nothing but time will cure your disease.

HUSBAND. Is it really I who am diseased? Is not my behaviour quite normal? And is not my suffering caused by seeing other people behave abnormally or--pathologically?

BARONESS. I was married to a man whom I loved.... Yes, you smile! You think a woman cannot love because.... But I did love him, and he loved me, and yet--he loved others, too. I suffered from jealousy so that--so that--I made myself insufferable. He went into the war--being an officer, you know--and he has never returned. I was told that he had been killed, but his body was never found, and now I imagine that he is alive and bound to another woman.--Think of it! I am still jealous of my dead husband. At night I see him in my dreams together with that other woman.... Have you ever known torments like that, Mr. Brunner?

HUSBAND. You may be sure I have!--But what makes you think that he is still alive?

[_He begins to arrange his things in the travelling-bag_.

BARONESS. A number of circumstances combined to arouse my suspicions at one time, but for years nothing happened to revive them. Then you came here four months ago, and, as a strange fate would have it, I noticed at once a strong resemblance between you and my husband. It served me as a reminder. And as my dreams took on flesh and blood, so to speak, my old suspicions turned into certainty, and now I really believe that he is alive? I am in a constant torment of jealousy--and that has enabled me to understand you.

HUSBAND. [_Becoming attentive, after having listened for a while with apparent indifference_] You say that I resemble your husband.--Won't you be seated, Baroness?

BARONESS. [_Sits down at the table with her back to the public; the_ HUSBAND _takes a chair beside her_] He looked like you, and--barring certain weaknesses--his character also....

HUSBAND. He was about ten years older than I.... And he had a scar on his right cheek that looked as if it had been made by a needle....

BARONESS. That's right!

HUSBAND. Then I met your husband one night in London.

BARONESS. Is he alive?

HUSBAND. I have to figure it out--for the moment I can't tell.... Let's see! That was five years ago--in London, as I told you. I had been to a party--men and women--and the atmosphere had been rather depressed. On leaving the place, I joined the first man who gave me a chance to unburden myself. We were _en rapport_ at once, and our chat developed into one of those endless sidewalk conversations, during which he let me have his entire history--having first found out that I came from his own district.

BARONESS. Then he is alive?...

HUSBAND. He was not killed in the war--that much is certain--because he was taken prisoner. Then he fell in love with the mayor's daughter, ran away with her to England, was deserted by his fair lady, and began to gamble--with constant bad luck. When we separated in the morning hours, he gave me the impression of being doomed. He made me promise that if chance should ever put you in my way after a year had gone by, and provided that he had not in the meantime communicated with me by advertisement in a newspaper I am always reading, I was to consider him dead. And when I met you, I was to kiss you on the hand, and your daughter on the brow, saying on his behalf: "Forgive!"

_As he kisses the hand of the_ BARONESS, ROSE _appears on the veranda, outside the open door, and watches them with evident excitement_.

BARONESS. [_Agitated_] Then he is dead?

HUSBAND. Yes, and I should have given you his message a little more promptly, if I had not long ago forgotten the man's name as well as the man himself. [_The_ BARONESS _is pulling at her handkerchief, apparently unable to decide what to say or do_] Do you feel better now?

BARONESS. Yes, in a way, but all hope is gone, too.

HUSBAND. The hope of suffering those sweet torments again....

BARONESS. Besides my girl, I had nothing to interest me but my anxiety.... How strange it is that even suffering can be missed!

HUSBAND. You'll have to pardon me, but I do think that you miss your jealousy more than your lost husband.

BARONESS. Perhaps--because my jealousy was the invisible tie connecting me with that image of my dreams.... And now, when I have nothing left [_She takes hold of his hand_] You, who have brought me his last message--you, who are a living reminder of him, and who have suffered like me....

HUSBAND. [_Becomes restless, rises and looks at his watch_] Pardon me, but I have to take the next train--really, I must!

BARONESS. I was going to ask you not to do so. Why should you go? Don't you feel at home here?

ROSE _disappears from the veranda_.

HUSBAND. Your house has brought me some of the best hours I have experienced during these stormy years, and I leave you with the greatest regret--but I must Baroness. On account of what happened last night?

HUSBAND. Not that alone--it was merely the last straw.... And now I must pack, if you'll pardon me.

[_He turns his attention to the travelling-bag again_.

BARONESS. If your decision is irrevocable.... won't you let me help you, as no one else is doing so?

HUSBAND. I thank you ever so much, my dear Baroness, but I am almost done.... And I shall ask you to make our leave-taking less painful by making it short.... In the midst of all trouble, your tender cares have been a sweet consolation to me, and I find it almost as painful to part from you as_--[The_ BARONESS _looks deeply moved_]--from a good mother. I have read compassion in your glances, even when discretion compelled you to remain silent, and I have thought at times that your presence tended to improve my domestic happiness--as your age permitted you to say things that a younger woman would not like to hear from one of her own generation....

BARONESS. [_With some hesitation_] You must forgive me for saying that your wife is no longer young....

HUSBAND. In my eyes she is.

BARONESS. But not in the eyes of the world.

HUSBAND. So much the better, although, on the other hand, I find her coquetry the more disgusting the less her attractions correspond to her pretensions--and if a moment comes when they begin to laugh at her....

BARONESS. They are doing so already.

HUSBAND. Really? Poor Olga! [_He looks thoughtful; then, as a single stroke of a bell is heard from the church tower outside, he pulls himself together_] The clock struck. I must leave in half an hour.

BARONESS. But you cannot leave without your breakfast.

HUSBAND. I am not hungry. As always, when starting on a journey, I am so excited that my nerves tremble like telephone wires in very cold weather....

BARONESS. Then I'll make you a cup of coffee. You'll let me do that, won't you? And I'll send up the maid to help you pack.

HUSBAND. Your kindness is so great, Baroness, that I fear being tempted into weaknesses that I should have to regret later on.

BARONESS. You would never regret following my advice--if you only would! [_She goes out_.

_The_ HUSBAND _remains alone for a few moments. Then_ ROSE _enters from the rear_ with a basketful of roses.

HUSBAND. Good morning, Miss Rose. What's the matter?

ROSE. Why?

HUSBAND. Why.... Because you have your head wrapped up like that.

ROSE. [_Tearing off the scarf and hiding it within her dress_] There is nothing the matter with me. I am perfectly well. Are you going away?

HUSBAND. Yes, I am.

_The_ MAID _enters_.

ROSE. What do you want?

MAID. The Baroness said I should help Mr. Brunner to pack.

ROSE. It isn't necessary. You can go!

_The_ MAID _hesitates_.

ROSE. Go, I tell you!

_The_ MAID _goes out_.

HUSBAND. Isn't that rather impolite to me, Miss Rose?

ROSE. No, it is not. I wanted to help you myself. But you are impolite when you run away from your promise to help me with the flowers for to-morrow's festival. Not that I care a bit--as I am not going to the festival to-morrow, because--I don't know where I may be to-morrow.

HUSBAND. What does that mean?

ROSE. Can't I help you with something, Mr. Axel? Won't you let me brush your hat?

[_She picks up his hat and begins to brush it_.

HUSBAND. No, I can't let you do that, Miss Rose.

[_He tries to take the hat away from her_.

ROSE. Let me alone! [_She puts her fingers into the hole on her sleeve and tears it open_] There, now! You tore my dress!

HUSBAND. You are so peculiar to-day, Miss Rose, and I think your restiveness is troubling your mother.

ROSE. Well, what do I care? I am glad if it troubles her, although I suppose that will hurt _you_. But I don't care any more for you than I care for the cat in the kitchen or the rats in the cellar. And if I were your wife, I should despise you, and go so far away that you could never find me again!--You should be ashamed of kissing another woman! Shame on you!

HUSBAND. Oh, you saw me kissing your mother's hand, did you? Then I must tell you that it was nothing but a final greeting from your father, whom I met abroad after you had seen him for the last time. And I have a greeting for you, too....

_He goes to_ ROSE _and puts his hands about her head in order to kiss her brow, but_ ROSE _throws her head back so that her lips meet his. At that moment the_ WIFE _appears on the veranda, shrinks back at what she sees and disappears again_.

HUSBAND. My dear child, I meant only to give you an innocent kiss on the brow.

ROSE. Innocent? Ha-ha! Yes, very innocent!--And you believe those fairy-tales mother tells about father, who died several years ago! That was a man, I tell you, who knew how to love, and who dared to make love! He didn't tremble at the thought of a kiss, and he didn't wait until he was asked! If you won't believe me, come with me into the attic, and I'll let you read the letters he wrote to his mistresses.... Come! [_She opens the papered door, so that the stairs leading to the attic become visible_] Ha-ha-ha! You're afraid that I am going to seduce you, and you look awfully surprised ... surprised because a girl like me, who has been a woman for three years, knows that there is nothing innocent about love! Do you imagine that I think children are born through the ear? Now I can see that you despise me, but you shouldn't do that, for I am neither worse nor better than anybody else.... I am like this!

HUSBAND. Go and change your dress before your mother comes, Miss Rose.

ROSE. Do you think I have such ugly arms? Or don't you dare to look at them?--Now I think I know why why your wife why you are so jealous of your wife!

HUSBAND. Well, if that isn't the limit!

ROSE. Look at him blush! On my behalf, or on your own? Do you know how many times I have been in love?

HUSBAND. Never!

ROSE. Never with a bashful fellow like you!--Tell me, does that make you despise me again?

HUSBAND. A little!--Take care of your heart, and don't put it where the birds can pick at it, and where it gets--dirty. You call yourself a woman, but you are a very young woman--a girl, in other words....

ROSE. And for that reason just for that reason.... But I can become a woman....

HUSBAND. Until you have--I think we had better postpone conversations of this kind. Shake hands on that, Miss Rose!

ROSE. [_With tears of anger_] Never! Never! Oh, you!

HUSBAND. Are we not going to part as friends--we who have had so many pleasant days together during the gloomy winter and the slow spring?

WIFE. [_Enters, carrying a tray with the coffee things on it; she seems embarrassed and pretends not to notice_ ROSE] I thought you might have time to drink a nice cup of coffee before you leave. [ROSE _tries to take the tray away from her_] No, my little girl, I can attend to this myself.

HUSBAND. [_Watching his wife in a questioning and somewhat ironic manner_] That was an excellent idea of yours....

WIFE. [_Evading his glance_] I am glad ... that....

ROSE. Perhaps I had better say good-bye now--to Mr. Brunner....

HUSBAND. So you mean to desert me now, Miss Rose....

ROSE. I suppose I must ... because ... your wife is angry with me.

WIFE. I? Why in the world....

ROSE. You promised to try on my dress....

WIFE. Not at this time, child. You can see that I have other things to do now. Or perhaps you wish to keep my husband company while I get the dress ready?

HUSBAND. Olga!

WIFE. What is it?

ROSE _puts her fingers into her mouth, looking at once embarrassed and angry_.

WIFE. You had better dress decently, my dear young lady, if you are to go with us to the train.

ROSE _remains as before_.

WIFE. And suppose you take your flowers with you, if there is to be any demonstration....

HUSBAND. That's cruel, Olga!

ROSE. [_Dropping a curtsey_] Good-bye, Mr. Brunner.

HUSBAND. [_Shaking hands with her_] Good-bye, Miss Rose. I hope you will be happy, and that you will be a big girl soon-a very big girl.

ROSE. [_Picking up her flowers_] Good-bye, Mrs. Brunner. [_As she gets no answer_] Good-bye! [_She runs out_.

HUSBAND _and_ WIFE _look equally embarrassed; she tries to avoid looking him in the face_.

WIFE. Can I be of any help?

HUSBAND. No, thank you, I am practically done.

WIFE. And there are so many others to help you.

HUSBAND. Let me have a look at you!

[_He tries to take hold of her head_.

WIFE. [_Escaping him_] No, leave me alone.

HUSBAND. What is it?

WIFE. Perhaps you think that I am--that I am jealous?

HUSBAND. I think so when you say it, but I could never have believed it before.

WIFE. Of a schoolgirl like that--ugh!

HUSBAND. The character of the object seems immaterial in cases of this kind. I felt jealous of a hired man You saw, then, that....

WIFE. That you kissed her!

HUSBAND. No, it was she who kissed me.

WIFE. How shameless! But minxes like her are regular apes!

HUSBAND. Yes, they take after the grown-up people.

WIFE. You seem to be pleased by her attentions anyhow.

HUSBAND. Little used as I am to such attentions....

WIFE. On the part of young ladies, perhaps--but you seem less timid with the old ones....

HUSBAND. You saw that, too, did you?

WIFE. No, but Rose told me. Apparently you are quite a lady-killer.

HUSBAND. So it seems. It's too bad that I can't profit by it.

WIFE. You'll soon be free to choose a younger and prettier wife.

HUSBAND. I am not aware of any such freedom.

WIFE. Now when I am old and ugly!

HUSBAND. I can't make out what has happened. Let me have another look at you. [_He comes close to her_.

WIFE. [_Hiding her face at his bosom_] You mustn't look at me!

HUSBAND. What in the world does this mean? You are not jealous of a little schoolgirl or an old widow....

WIFE. I have broken--one of my front teeth. Please don't look at me!

HUSBAND. Oh, you child!--With pain comes the first tooth, and with pain the first one goes.

WIFE. And now you'll leave me, of course?

HUSBAND. Not on your life! [_Closing the bag with a snap_] To-morrow we'll start for Augsburg to get you a new tooth of gold.

WIFE. But we'll never come back here.

HUSBAND. Not if you say so.

WIFE. And now your fears are gone?

HUSBAND. Yes--for another week.

BARONESS. [_Enters carrying a tray; looks very embarrassed at seeing them together_] Excuse me, but I thought....

HUSBAND. Thank you, Baroness, I have had coffee already, but for your sake I'll have another cup. And if you--[ROSE, _dressed in white, appears in the doorway at that moment_] and Miss Rose care to keep us company, we have no objection. On the contrary, nothing could please us better, as my wife and I are leaving on the first train to-morrow morning.

_Curtain_.

GUSTAVUS VASA

(GUSTAF VASA)

HISTORIC DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS

1899

CHARACTERS

GUSTAVUS I, _King of Sweden_ MARGARET LEIJONHUFVUD (_Lion-Head_), _his second Queen_ PRINCE ERIC, _the only son of the King's first marriage_ PRINCE JOHAN, _eldest son of the King's second marriage_ EBBA CARLSDAUGHTER, _a nun at the convent of Vreta and mother-in-law of the King_ MASTER OLAVUS PETRI, _commonly known as Master Olof_ CHRISTINE, _his wife_ REGINALD, _their son_ HERMAN ISRAEL, a _councillor of the free city of Luebeck_ JACOB ISRAEL, _his son_ MONS NILSSON OF ASPEBODA } ANDERS PERSSON OF RANKHYTTAN } _free miners of Dalecarlia_ INGHEL HANSSON } NILS OF SÖDERBY } JORGHEN PERSSON, _secretary to_ PRINCE ERIC MASTER STIG, _pastor at Copperberg (Falun), Dalecarlia_ MONS NILSSON'S WIFE BARBRO, _his daughter_ AGDA, a _barmaid_ KARIN MONSDAUGHTER, a _flower girl_ MARCUS } DAVID } _Hanseatic clerks_ ENGELBRECHT, a _free miner who was one of the Dalecarlian ski-runners that overtook_ GUSTAVUS VASA _on his flight to Norway and brought him back to head the Dalecarlian revolt against King Christian II of Denmark_ CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD A COURTIER A MESSENGER TWO BEGGARS

SCENARIO