Svanhild.
Falk, one word with you!
Falk [pointing politely to the house].
That way, Miss Halm;—that way, with all the force
Of aunts and inmates, Mrs. Halm withdrew.
Svanhild [nearer to him].
Let them withdraw; their ways and mine divide;
I will not swell the number of their band.
Falk.
You’ll stay?
Svanhild.
If you make war on lies, I stand
A trusty armour-bearer by your side.
Falk.
You, Svanhild, you who—
Svanhild.
Were you yourself, Falk, yesterday the same?
You bade me be a sallow, for your play.
Falk.
And a sweet sallow sang me into shame.
No, you are right: I was a child to ask;
But you have fired me to a nobler task.
Eight in the midst of men the Church is founded
Where Truth’s appealing clarion must be sounded
We are not called, like demigods, to gaze on
The battle from the far-off mountain’s crest,
But in our hearts to bear our fiery blazon,
An Olaf’s cross upon a mailed breast,—
To look afar across the fields of flight,
Tho’ pent within the mazes of its might,—
Beyond the mirk descry one glimmer still
Of glory—that’s the Call we must fulfil.
Svanhild.
And you’ll fulfil it when you break from men,
Stand free, alone,—
Falk.
Did I frequent them then?
And there lies duty. No, that time’s gone by,—
My solitary compact with the sky.
My four-wall-chamber poetry is done;
My verse shall live in forest and in field,
I’ll fight under the splendour of the sun;—
I or the Lie—one of us two must yield!
Svanhild.
Then forth with God from Verse to Derringdoe!
I did you wrong: you have a feeling heart;
Forgive me,—and as good friends let us part—
Falk.
Nay, in my future there is room for two!
We part not. Svanhild, if you dare decide,
We’ll battle on together side by side.
Svanhild.
We battle?
Falk.
See, I have no friend, no mate,
By all abandoned, I make war on all:
At me they aim the piercing shafts of hate;
Say, do you dare with me to stand or fall?
Henceforth along the beaten walks I’ll move
Heedful of each constraining etiquette;
Spread, like the rest of men, my board, and set
The ring upon the finger of my love!
[Takes a ring from his finger and holds it up.
Svanhild [in breathless suspense].
You mean that?
Falk.
Yes, by us the world shall see,
Love has an everlasting energy,
That suffers not its splendour to take hurt
From the day’s dust, the common highway’s dirt.
Last night I showed you the ideal aflame,
Beaconing from a dizzy mountain’s brow.
You shuddered, for you were a woman,—now
I show you woman’s veritable aim;—
A soul like yours, what it has vowed, will keep.
You see the abyss before you,—Svanhild, leap!
Svanhild [almost inaudibly].
If we should fail—!
Falk [exulting].
No, in your eyes I see
A gleam that surely prophesies our winning!
Svanhild.
Then take me as I am, take all of me!
Now buds the young leaf; now my spring’s beginning!
[She flings herself boldly into his arms as the curtain falls.
ACT THIRD.
Evening. Bright moonlight. Coloured lanterns are hung about the trees. In the background are covered tables with bottles, glasses, biscuits, etc. From the house, which is lighted up from top to bottom, subdued music and singing are heard during the following scene. Svanhild stands on the verandah. Falk comes from the right with some books and a portfolio under his arm. The Porter follows with a portmanteau and a knapsack.
Falk.
That’s all, then?
Porter.
Yes, sir, all is in the pack,
But just a satchel, and the paletot.
Falk.
Good; when I go, I’ll take them on my back.
Now off. See, this is the portfolio.
Porter.
It’s locked, I see.
Falk.
Locked, Peter.
Porter.
Good, sir.
Falk.
Pray,
Make haste and burn it.
Porter.
Burn it?
Falk.
Yes, to ash—
[Smiling.
With every draft upon poetic cash;
As for the books, you’re welcome to them.
Porter.
Nay,
Such payment is above a poor man’s earning.
But, sir, I’m thinking, if you can bestow
Your books, you must have done with all your learning?
Falk.
Whatever can be learnt from books I know,
And rather more.
Porter.
More? Nay, that’s hard, I doubt!
Falk.
Well, now be off; the carriers wait without.
Just help them load the barrow ere you go.
[The Porter goes out to the left.
Falk [approaching Svanhild who comes to meet him].
One moment’s ours, my Svanhild, in the light
Of God and of the lustrous summer night.
How the stars glitter thro’ the leafage, see,
Like bright fruit hanging on the great world-tree.
Now slavery’s last manacle I slip,
Now for the last time feel the wealing whip;
Like Israel at the Passover I stand,
Loins girded for the desert, staff in hand.
Dull generation, from whose sight is hid
The Promised Land beyond that desert flight,
Thrall tricked with knighthood, never the more knight,
Tomb thyself kinglike in the Pyramid,—
I cross the barren desert to be free.
My ship strides on despite an ebbing sea;
But there the Legion Lie shall find its doom,
And glut one deep, dark, hollow-vaulted tomb.
[A short pause; he looks at her and takes her hand.
You are so still!
Svanhild.
So happy! Suffer me,
O suffer me in silence still to dream.
Speak you for me; my budding thoughts, grown strong,
One after one will burgeon into song,
Like lilies in the bosom of the stream.
Falk.
O say it once again, in truth’s pure tone
Beyond the fear of doubt, that thou art mine!
O say it, Svanhild, say—
Svanhild [throwing herself on his neck].
Yes, I am thine!
Falk.
Thou singing-bird God sent me for my own!
Svanhild.
Homeless within my mother’s house I dwelt,
Lonely in all I thought, in all I felt,
A guest unbidden at the feast of mirth,—
Accounted nothing—less than nothing—worth.
Then you appeared! For the first time I heard
My own thought uttered in another’s word;
To my lame visions you gave wings and feet—
You young unmasker of the Obsolete!
Half with your caustic keenness you alarmed me,
Half with your radiant eloquence you charmed me,
As sea-girt forests summon with their spell
The sea their flinty beaches still repel.
Now I have read the bottom of your soul,
Now you have won me, undivided, whole;
Dear forest, where my tossing billows beat,
My tide’s at flood and never will retreat!
Falk.
And I thank God that in the bath of Pain
He purged my love. What strong compulsion drew
Me on I knew not, till I saw in you
The treasure I had blindly sought in vain.
I praise Him, who our love has lifted thus
To noble rank by sorrow,—licensed us
To a triumphal progress, bade us sweep
Thro’ fen and forest to our castle-keep,
A noble pair, astride on Pegasus!
Svanhild [pointing to the house].
The whole house, see, is making feast to-night.
There, in their honour, every room’s alight,
There cheerful talk and joyous song ring out;
On the highroad no passer-by will doubt
That men are happy where they are so gay.
[With compassion.
Poor sister!—happy in the great world’s way!
Falk.
“Poor” sister, say you?
Svanhild.
Has she not divided
With kith and kin the treasure of her soul,
Her capital to fifty hands confided,
So that not one is debtor for the whole?
From no one has she all things to receive,
For no one has she utterly to live.
O beside my wealth hers is little worth;
I have but one possession upon earth.
My heart was lordless when with trumpet blare
And multitudinous song you came, its king,
The banners of my thought your ensign bear,
You fill my soul with glory, like the spring.
Yes, I must needs thank God, when it is past,
That I was lonely till I found out thee,—
That I lay dead until the trumpet blast
Waken’d me from the world’s frivolity.
Falk.
Yes we, who have no friends on earth, we twain
Own the true wealth, the golden fortune,—we
Who stand without, beside the starlit sea,
And watch the indoor revel thro’ the pane.
Let the lamp glitter and the song resound,
Let the dance madly eddy round and round;—
Look up, my Svanhild, into yon deep blue,—
There glitter little lamps in thousands, too—
Svanhild.
And hark, beloved, thro’ the limes there floats
This balmy eve a chorus of sweet notes—
Falk.
It is for us that fretted vault’s aglow—
Svanhild.
It is for us the vale is loud below!
Falk.
I feel myself like God’s lost prodigal;
I left Him for the world’s delusive charms.
With mild reproof He wooed me to His arms;
And when I come, He lights the vaulted hall,
Prepares a banquet for the son restored,
And makes His noblest creature my reward.
From this time forth I’ll never leave that Light,—
But stand its armed defender in the fight;
Nothing shall part us, and our life shall prove
A song of glory to triumphant love!
Svanhild.
And see how easy triumph is for two,
When he’s a man—
Falk.
She, woman thro’ and thro’;—
It is impossible for such to fall!
Svanhild.
Then up, and to the war with want and sorrow;
This very hour I will declare it all!
[Pointing to Falk’s ring on her finger.
Falk [hastily].
No, Svanhild, not to-night, wait till to-morrow!
To-night we gather our young love’s red rose;
’Twere sacrilege to smirch it with the prose
Of common day.
[The door into the garden-room opens.
Your mother’s coming! Hide!
No eye this night shall see thee as my bride!
[They go out among the trees by the summer-house. Mrs. Halm and Guldstad come out on the balcony.
Mrs. Halm.
He’s really going?
Guldstad.
Seems so, I admit.
Stiver [coming].
He’s going, madam!
Mrs. Halm.
We’re aware of it!
Stiver.
A most unfortunate punctilio.
He’ll keep his word; his stubbornness I know.
In the Gazette he’ll put us all by name;
My love will figure under leaded headings,
With jilts, and twins, and countermanded weddings.
Listen; I tell you, if it weren’t for shame,
I would propose an armistice, a truce—
Mrs. Halm.
You think he would be willing?
Stiver.
I deduce
The fact from certain signs, which indicate
That his tall talk about his Amor’s News
Was uttered in a far from sober state.
One proof especially, if not transcendent,
Yet tells most heavily against defendant:
It has been clearly proved that after dinner
To his and Lind’s joint chamber he withdrew,
And there displayed such singular demeanour
As leaves no question—
Guldstad.
[Sees a glimpse of Falk and Svanhild, who separate, Falk going to the background; Svanhild remains standing hidden by the summer-house.
Hold, we have the clue!
Madam, one word!—Falk does not mean to go,
Or if he does, he means it as a friend.
Stiver.
How, you believe then—?
Mrs. Halm.
What do you intend?
Guldstad.
With the least possible delay I’ll show
That matters move precisely as you would.
Merely a word in private—
Mrs. Halm.
Very good.
[They go together into the garden and are seen from time to time in lively conversation.
Stiver.
[Descending into the garden discovers Falk, who is standing by the water and gazing over it.
These poets are mere men of vengeance, we
State servants understand diplomacy.
I need to labour for myself—
[Seeing Strawman, who enters from the garden-room.
Well met!
Strawman [on the verandah].
He’s really leaving!
[Going down to Stiver.
Ah, my dear sir, let
Me beg you just a moment to go in
And hold my wife—
Stiver.
I—hold her, sir?
Strawman.
I mean
In talk. The little ones and we are so
Unused to be divided, there is no
Escaping—
[His wife and children appear in the door.
Ha! already on my trail.
Mrs. Strawman.
Where are you, Strawman?
Strawman [aside to Stiver].
Do invent some tale,
Something amusing—something to beguile!
Stiver [going on to the verandah].
Pray, madam, have you read the official charge?
A masterpiece of literary style.
[Takes a book from his pocket.
Which I shall now proceed to cite at large.
[Ushers her politely into the room, and follows himself. Falk comes forward; he and Strawman meet; they regard one another a moment in silence.
Strawman.
Well?
Falk.
Well?
Strawman.
Falk!
Falk.
Pastor!
Strawman.
Are you less
Intractable than when we parted?
Falk.
Nay,
I go my own inexorable way—
Strawman.
Even tho’ you crush another’s happiness?
Falk.
I plant the flower of knowledge in its place.
[Smiling.
If, by the way, you have not ceased to think
Of the Gazette—
Strawman.
Ah, that was all a joke?
Falk.
Yes, pluck up courage, that will turn to smoke;
I break the ice in action, not in ink.
Strawman.
But even though you spare me, sure enough
There’s one who won’t so lightly let me off;
He has the advantage, and he won’t forego it,
That lawyer’s clerk—and ’tis to you I owe it;
You raked the ashes of our faded flames,
And you may take your oath he won’t be still
If once I mutter but a syllable
Against the brazen bluster of his claims.
These civil-service gentlemen, they say,
Are very potent in the press to-day.
A trumpery paragraph can lay me low,
Once printed in that Samson-like Gazette
That with the jaw of asses fells its foe,
And runs away with tackle and with net,
Especially towards the quarter day—
Falk [acquiescing].
Ah, were there scandal in the case, indeed—
Strawman [despondently].
No matter. Read its columns with good heed,
You’ll see me offered up to Vengeance.
Falk [whimsically].
Nay,
To retribution—well-earned punishment.
Thro’ all our life there runs a Nemesis,
Which may delay, but never will relent,
And grants to none exception or release.
Who wrongs the Ideal? Straight there rushes in
The Press, its guardian with the Argus eye,
And the offender suffers for his sin.
Strawman.
But in the name of heaven, what pledge have I
Given this “Ideal” that’s ever on your tongue?
I’m married, have a family, twelve young
And helpless innocents to clothe and keep;
I have my daily calls on every side,
Churches remote and glebe and pasture wide,
Great herds of breeding cattle, ghostly sheep—
All to be watched and cared for, clipt and fed,
Grain to be winnowed, compost to be spread;—
Wanted all day in shippon and in stall,
What time have I to serve the “Ideal” withal?
Falk.
Then get you home with what dispatch you may,
Creep snugly in before the winter-cold;
Look, in young Norway dawns at last the day,
Thousand brave hearts are in its ranks enroll’d,
Its banners in the morning breezes play!
Strawman.
And if, young man, I were to take my way
With bag and baggage home, with everything
That made me yesterday a little king,
Were mine the only volte face to-day?
Think you I carry back the wealth I brought?
[As Falk is about to answer.
Nay, listen, let me first explain my thought.
[Coming nearer.
Time was when I was young, like you, and played
Like you, the unconquerable Titan’s part;
Year after year I toiled and moiled for bread,
Which hardens a man’s hand, but not his heart.
For northern fells my lonely home surrounded,
And by my parish bounds my world was bounded.
My home—Ah, Falk, I wonder, do you know
What home is?
Falk [curtly].
I have never known.
Strawman.
Just so.
That is a home, where five may dwell with ease,
Tho’ two would be a crowd, if enemies.
That is a home, where all your thoughts play free
As boys and girls about their father’s knee,
Where speech no sooner touches heart, than tongue
Darts back an answering harmony of song;
Where you may grow from flax-haired snowy-polled,
And not a soul take note that you grow old;
Where memories grow fairer as they fade,
Like far blue peaks beyond the forest glade.