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Halla (pronounced Hadla), a well-to-do widow. |
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Kari (pronounced Kowri), overseer on Halla's farm. |
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Bjørn, Halla's brother-in-law, farmer and bailiff. |
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Arnes, a vagrant laborer. |
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Gudfinna, an elderly, unmarried relative of the family. |
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| Magnus | Halla's servants. |
| Oddny | |
| Sigrid | |
| A Shepherd Boy | |
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Arngrim, a leper. |
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A District Judge. |
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Tota, a child of three years. |
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Peasants, peasant women, and farm-hands. |
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The action takes place in Iceland in the middle of the eighteenth century. The story of the two principal characters is founded an historical events. Halla's nature is moulded on a Danish woman's soul.
A "badstofa" or servants' hall. Along each side-wall, a row of bedsteads with bright coverlets of knitted wool. Between the bedsteads, a narrow passageway. On the right, the entrance, which is reached by a staircase. On the left, opposite the entrance, a dormer-window with panes of bladder. On the right, over the bedsteads, a similar window. Long green blades of grass are visible through the panes. In the centre back a door opens into Halla's bed-chamber, which is separated from the "badstofa" by a thin board partition. A small table-leaf is attached by hinges to the partition. A copper train-oil lamp is fastened in the doorcase. Over the nearest bedsteads a cross-beam runs at a man's height from the floor; from this to the roof-tree is half of a man's height. Under the window stands a painted chest. Carved wooden boxes are pushed in under the bedsteads. The "badstofa" is old, the woodwork blackened by age and soot.
It is early spring, a late afternoon. Gudfinna and Oddny are sitting on the beds facing each other, Gudfinna mending shoes, Oddny putting patches on a coat. The Shepherd Boy is standing in the middle of the room, throwing a dart adorned with red cock's feathers. The costumes are old Icelandic.
The Boy (throws his dart). Ho! ho! I came pretty near hitting her that time!
Gudfinna. Hitting whom?
The Boy. Can't you see the little spider hanging down from the beam? I mean to shoot and break her thread.
Oddny. You are always up to some tomfoolery.
Gudfinna. Leave the poor creature in peace! It has done you no harm.
The Boy (laughing). Do you think she'd break her legs if she should happen to fall down on the floor?
Gudfinna. I won't have it! Destroying a spider's web is sure to bring bad luck, and you'll end by tearing the window-pane with your dart.
The Boy. Kari has told me of a man who broke a bow-string with one shot, and that from way off. (Shoots.)
Gudfinna. If you don't stop, you shall wear your shoes with the holes in them.
The Boy (pulling the dart out of the beam). Would you rather have me shoot your ear-locks?
Gudfinna. Are you crazy, lad? You might hit my eyes.
The Boy. I must have some kind of fun. I think I'll have a shot at Oddny's plaits.
Oddny. If you dare!
The Boy (laughing). If I have bad luck, you will look at Kari with only one eye.
Oddny. You need a good spanking.
Gudfinna. Kari ought not to have given you that dart.
The Boy (going to the spider, makes a fanning motion with his hand). Up, old spinning-woman, if you bode good! Down, if you bode ill! Up, if you bode good! Down, if you bode ill!
Gudfinna. You are awfully hard on your shoes, worse than a grown man. I hope you don't walk on the sharpest stones just for fun?
Oddny. Of course he does!
The Boy. The sheep were so restless to-day. Some of them came near slipping away from me.
Oddny. If they had, you wouldn't be riding such a high horse now!
Gudfinna. Have they been bad to you, laddie? Do you never feel timid when you are alone so much?
The Boy. Sometimes I keep thinking what I should do if a mad bull came tearing down the mountains.
Gudfinna. Don't speak of them! They are the worst monsters in the world—except, perhaps, the skoffin.
The Boy. What is a skoffin?
Gudfinna. Don't you know that? When a rooster gets to be very old, he lays an egg, and if that's hatched, it becomes a skoffin. It kills a man by just looking at him, and the only thing that can slay it is a church-blessed silver bullet. Indeed, there are many things you have to be careful of, my child. Are you not afraid of the outlaws? They're not good, those fellows; they go about in skins with the wool on them and carry long sticks with ice-spurs, and that at midsummer. Have you ever seen anything of them?
The Boy. No, but yesterday I pretty near got scared. There came a man with a big bag under his arm. I didn't know him at first, but it was only Arnes.
Gudfinna. And what did he want of you?
The Boy. He asked me to show him the way to a spring. He was thirsty.
Gudfinna. You had better not have too much talk with him. (Hands him the shoes.) There! Now they will last till to-morrow anyway. (Kneels down, pulls out a box, and examines its contents.)
Enter Halla from her chamber.
Halla. It is time for the sheep to be milked.
The Boy. I am going now to drive them home. I was waiting for my shoes.
Halla. Have you seen anything of the cows to-day?
The Boy. No. (To Oddny.) When I get rich I'll give you a cow's tail to tie up your plaits with.
Oddny. Hold your tongue! Exit the Boy.
Halla (smiling). I heard him teasing you a while ago.
Oddny. He's forever pestering me about Kari—as if I cared!
Halla (with a little laugh). Well, Sigrid doesn't take such good care of Magnus's clothes as you of Kari's. Exit.
Oddny (is silent for a moment and looks at the door). If I were a widow and owned a farm, the men would be noticing me too, even if I had been nothing but a poor orphan servant girl before I married—like some others.
Gudfinna (rising, a pair of stockings in her hand). What are you talking about? (Pushes the box under the bed.)
Oddny. Do you know who was Halla's father?
Gudfinna. That is what no one seems to know. Some would have it that he was a parson. (She darns the stockings.)
Oddny. Yes, or a vagabond. There were also some ugly whispers about a stain on her birth.
Gudfinna. You'd better bridle your tongue!
Oddny. I am not so dull as you imagine. When Halla thinks no one is looking, she doesn't take her eyes from Kari. And she has made him overseer; that seems queer to others besides me. Last Sunday at church some one asked me if there was anything between the widow and the "overseer."
Gudfinna. And what did you say?
Oddny. I told them that it was quite possible Halla had her lines out for him, but that I did not think Kari would swallow the fly, even if it had gold on its wings.
Gudfinna. Much good it did you, the gospel you heard in church! I am sorry for you, poor girl! You are crazy about a man who has neither eye nor ear for you, but that is no reason why you should be running around spreading gossip. Halla is not the kind of woman that is fond of men. There was never a harsh word between her and her husband, God rest his soul, but there was not much love-making between them either. No, indeed!
Oddny. Well, what of that! He was a man up in years and had a fine farm.
Gudfinna. He was an upright and honest man, and Halla made him a good wife, my dear.
Oddny. Who doubts that? (Silence.) I don't know what ails Kari of late. Yesterday he flew into a rage when I asked him if he knew of a cure for freckles. I hope Halla has not become such a saint yet that one can't notice her freckles.
Enter Kari and Magnus.
Kari and Magnus. Good evening!
Gudfinna and Oddny. Good evening!
Oddny (rising). I am sitting on your bed, I believe.
Magnus (throws off his cap). Oddny, ask Sigrid to come here and pull off my stockings. (Sits down.) It feels good to sit down. Oddny goes reluctantly.
Kari. Why is she so grumpy? She is not so cheerful a body as you are. I should like to have known you in your young days. I dare say you knew how to handle a rake.
Gudfinna (straightening her back). You may be sure. On dry ground, two lively fellows had all they could do to make ready for my rake.
Kari. And you were not afraid to tuck up your skirts, where the ground was low and marshy.
Gudfinna. Indeed not! Many a time I had water in my shoes.
Enter Sigrid and Oddny.
Magnus (stretching his feet out on the floor). Pull off my shoes! I'm so tired to-night I can't move.
Sigrid. It must be laziness that ails you, as usual. Kneels down. How in the name of heaven did you manage to get so wet in this dry weather? I can wring the water out of your stockings.
Magnus. Kari wanted to jump the creek to make a short cut, and I fell in.
Oddny (to Kari). Aren't you wet, too?
Kari. No. (Sits down.)
Magnus. Kari skims over everything like a bird.
Kari. Every man has his gift. (To Sigrid.) You should see the rocks Magnus can lift.
Magnus. Well, it may be true that I am pretty strong, but I should like to see the man who could throw you in an honest glima.
Oddny. I know one whom Kari couldn't stand against.
Magnus. And who is that? (Sigrid pulls at his stockings.) There! There!
Oddny. Bjørn, Halla's brother-in-law.
Magnus. I should not be afraid to bet on Kari against him. (To Sigrid.) Give me the stockings! (Dries his feet with the stocking legs.)
(Sigrid pulls out a chest, where she finds dry stockings.)
Enter Halla.
Oddny. I don't think Kari would dare to try a fall with the bailiff.
Kari. If you were the prize, I should not dare to!
Gudfinna (laughing). There you got it!
(Everybody laughs except Oddny.)
Halla (smiling). Yet many have fought for less.
Magnus. I'm ready to make a wager with you, Oddny, that Kari would win.
Halla. It does not look as if the cows were coming home to-night. Magnus, won't you go up the gorge and see if they are there, and I will send the boy down to the creek. Exit Sigrid with the wet stockings.
Magnus. Oh, why did I bother to change my stockings!
Halla. You can take a horse. (A dog is heard barking.) There! we shall have company.
Kari (rising). I'll run up there.
Halla. You have your trout nets to look after. I know Magnus won't mind.
Magnus. Confound those cows! Why can't they come home in time! (Puts on his shoes.)
(Kari pulls out a small box from under the bed and begins to whittle teeth for a rake.)
Arnes puts his head in at the door; he carries a large bag.
Arnes. Good evening! I did not want to trouble any one to come to the outside door. (Drops his bag on the floor.) Now Arnes is rich—there's gold sand in my bag.
Halla. I dare say there is.
Arnes. You people don't know what lies hidden in the hills. I have heard of a man who lost his way in Surt's Cave. For days he walked underground, and when at last he came up he had gold sand in his shoes.
Halla. What would you do if that were really gold in your bag?
Arnes. Then Arnes would do many things. You should help yourself to all your hands could hold, and as many times as you have given me shelter, and Arngrim the leper should also fill his fists. I know of no one else to whom I care to do good.
Gudfinna. And should I have nothing?
Arnes. I would give you new, long ear-locks of gold.
Magnus (laughing). Some little gift you'd surely have for the bailiff—no?
Arnes. For him? Yes, if I could throw the sand into his eyes. (Opens the bag and takes out a handful of Iceland moss.) They are fine, these lichens, and taste good when you cook them in milk.
Gudfinna (rising and muttering to herself). The milk! Exit.
Arnes (holding up a handful). See how big they are.
Halla. Yes, they are fine.
Arnes (patting the bag). And it is well stuffed, too.
Enter the Boy.
The Boy. Now you can milk the sheep.
Halla. You are not through yet, poor boy. You will have to go down along the creek and look for the cows. Exit Oddny.
The Boy. I hope they're not up to new tricks and begin to stay out nights. Exit.
Halla (calling after him). Take a drink of milk in the pantry; the key is in the door. (Magnus rises slowly.)
Arnes. Are you going to buy my bag?
Halla. If you make the price right.
Arnes. You ought to have it for nothing—you've given me shelter and good food so often. (Lifts his foot.) What I need most just now is to get something on my feet.
Halla. I don't think we shall quarrel about the price. (To Magnus.) Take it out into the kitchen. Exit Magnus with the bag.
Halla. Will you not sit down? I'll go and find you a bite to eat. Exit.
Arnes (following her with his eyes). That woman has a kind heart. (Sits down.) How long have you been working here on the farm?
Kari. This is my second year.
Arnes. And overseer already? Yes, some folks have luck. (Leans toward him.) As you may know, I haven't a very good name. I can't settle down very long at any one place, and it comes hard for me to be anybody's servant. You must surely have heard me spoken of as a thief?
Kari. People will say so many things.
Arnes (passing his hand over his ears). My ears are not marked yet, but somehow it sticks to you like dust—what people say—no matter whether it is true or not. Have you ever been the target for gossipy tales?
Kari (slowly). Not that I know of.
Arnes. Then you have it coming to you. Shall I tell you what they are saying about you in these parts?
Kari. Is it about me and Halla?
Arnes. I have heard that too, but this story is about yourself.
Kari. I would rather be spared listening to gossip.
Arnes. If I had been quite sure that it was nothing but gossip, I should not have opened my mouth about it.
Kari (laughing coldly). You are at least frank.
Arnes (rising). It is all the same to me, but if you have anything to hide, you had better keep your eyes and ears open, for you have an enemy, that much I can tell you.
Kari. I don't know that I have harmed any one around here.
Arnes. You live and fill your place. That is enough to make enemies.
Enter Halla with a wooden mug filled with porridge and milk. The lid is turned back and some meat, dried fish, and butter are placed upon it.
Halla. You get nothing but skimmed milk. I thought you would rather have that than wait until the cows had been milked. (Lets down the table-leaf.)
Arnes (sits down and reaches for the mug). God bless you, woman! I am used to having it on my knees. (Pulls out his pocket-knife and eats.)
Halla (stops in front of Kari and looks at him). You are working hard; there are drops of sweat on your forehead.
Kari. Are there? (Wipes his forehead; looks up.) Should you like to know your life beforehand? (Stands up and raises both arms to the ceiling.) I have lived where I could touch the roof over my head with my clenched fists, and I have lived where my eyes could not reach it. (Sits down.) Can you remember how few clothes I had when I came here?
Halla (sitting down). I can well remember the green knitted jerkin you wore—you have it yet—and your coat and brown breeches. (Smiling.) There was a big black patch on the left knee.
Kari. The rags on my back were all I had in the world, and now I own two new sets and even more underclothes. You deserve that I should put teeth of gold in your rake.
Halla (smiling). That rake would be too heavy for me.
Kari (looking at Halla). So many things come back to me to-night that I have not thought of before. You gave me leave to work in the smithy in my spare time instead of doing the wool-carding. You saw to it that I should be one of the men who gather the sheep down from the hills in the fall, because you knew I liked it.
Halla. That was only natural, since you are so swift of foot.
Kari. And for my bed you knitted a coverlet with seven colors in it. You have always been good to me.
Halla. Now you are getting far too grateful. (To Arnes.) Do you think you have enough food there, Arnes? I can get you some more, if you want it.
Arnes (patting his stomach). I don't even know if I can make room for the porridge.
Kari (looking at Halla). If I were to leave this place, I should miss you more than any other living being I have ever known. (Rises, pushes the box under the bed.)
Halla. I hope you will stay here for many years yet.
Kari. Nobody knows what the morrow may bring. Exit.
(Halla follows Kari with her eyes. Silence.)
Arnes (puts the wooden mug on the table). Now I give thanks for the meal. Will you let me lie in one of your barns to-night?
Halla. You would surely sleep better in a bed. You can lie with Magnus.
Arnes. I never sleep better than in old dry hay.
Enter Gudfinna.
Gudfinna. Is it true, Arnes, that you can tell what the birds are talking about?
Arnes. Do they say that?
Gudfinna. In olden times there were wise folks who understood all such things, but people nowadays are backward in that as in so many other ways. (Sits down.)
Halla (smiling). Yes, young people are not good for much, in your opinion.
Gudfinna. We need only think of the sagas. Where have we men now like Skarphjedinn and Grettir Asmundsson? There are none such in these days.
Halla. When I was a child there was nothing I wished so much as that I might have lived with Grettir in his banishment.
Arnes. Was it not eighteen years he was an outlaw?
Halla. Nineteen. He lived longer as an outlaw than any one else has done. He lacked only one year to become free.
Arnes. He must have been a great man, but that brings to my mind what the leper said the other day, when the talk turned to the old sagas.
Halla. And what did he say?
Arnes. Distance makes mountains blue and mortals great.
Enter the Boy, running.
The Boy. The bailiff is coming on horseback.
Halla (rising). What can he want so late? Did you find the cows?
The Boy. Yes, I met them coming home. They are in.
Halla. Did you tell the girls?
The Boy. No. Exit.
Halla. Gudfinna, you go and ask him to come in. (Gudfinna rises.) You won't forget about the milk? Exit Gudfinna.
Arnes (rising). Now I think I shall go and seek my bed.
Halla (smiling). Don't you want to have a talk with the bailiff?
Arnes. If I had found some dead sheep up in the hills with his mark on their ears, I'd gladly have told him so.
Halla. Sleep well! Exit Arnes.
(Halla smooths her hair.)
Enter Bjørn, carrying a riding-whip with a silver-mounted handle and a leather lash; he wears riding-socks reaching above the knees.
Halla. Good evening!
Bjørn (pointing to his feet). I did not take off my socks. I see now that they are not quite clean.
Halla. Will you be seated? May I offer you anything?
Bjørn. No, thank you. I want nothing. (Sits down.) You know I have not far to come. The sorrel and I can make it in fifteen minutes, when we are in the humor.
Halla. How is everything at your place? Have you any news?
Bjørn. That depends on what you mean. Who was that I met in the hall? It was quite dark there.
Halla. It must have been Arnes.
Bjørn. Is he spending the night here?
Halla. Yes.
Bjørn. It is no concern of mine, but I doubt if my late brother would have sheltered men of his kind, and yet he had the name of being hospitable. (Takes a snuff-box from his pocket.)
Halla (sitting down). I know nothing wrong of Arnes, and I do know that he is grateful for what I can offer him.
Bjørn. I thought you had heard the common talk. His record is not of the best, I am sorry to say. I have been told that little things are apt to be missing where he has made his stay.
Halla. I would rather bear such a loss in silence than perhaps throw suspicion on an innocent man.
Bjørn. Finely thought! Yet some one must be the first to warn the unwary. (Takes snuff.) You must hear what happened to me not long ago. The boy lost two milch sheep up in the hills. I was vexed that it should occur so early in the summer when they still had their wool, and therefore I sent one of my men to look for them. Near Red Peak he found tracks of the sheep and also the footprints of a large man. (Lowering his voice.) You could do me a good turn if you would give Arnes a pair of new shoes; I should pay for them, of course. He will not suspect anything, if you do it. Then you keep his old shoes for me.
Halla (rising). No, I will have nothing to do with that.
Bjørn. Then we shan't speak of it any more. I think I shall find out what I am after, nevertheless. (He is silent.)
Halla. You surely didn't come here to-night for Arnes's sake?
Bjørn. I did not. Was Kari at church last Sunday?
Halla. Why do you ask?
Bjørn. I know that he was there. (Sits down.) You are satisfied with him as an overseer?
Halla (sits down). In every way.
Bjørn. All the same, I advise you to get rid of him, the sooner the better.
Halla (laughing). I thank you for your kind advice.
Bjørn. My advice is not to be scorned, and besides, am I not your brother-in-law?
Halla. My sheep had to learn that to their cost, when they strayed in on your pastures, and you set your dogs on them.
Bjørn. Even though we have not always been as neighborly as I might wish, you must listen to me this time. I have always disliked Kari; I would never have hired that man. Believe me, there is something underhanded about him. Nobody knows him, and no one has heard of his people. It is as if he had shot up out of the ground. The only thing you know about him is that his name is Kari, and you don't even know that.
Halla (rising). What are you driving at with all this?
Bjørn. Sit still. (Halla sits down.) Last fall two strangers who stopped on their journey through here thought they knew Kari. They said it was easier to change one's name than one's face. As bad luck would have it, I did not get a chance to talk with them myself, but my suspicions were roused. Now there is a man staying with me who has just come from the south. He saw Kari at church last Sunday, and if he is right, it is an ugly story.
Halla. What do you mean?
Bjørn (rising). Neither more nor less than that your overseer's name is not Kari but Eyvind, that he was locked up for theft, and got away.
Halla (has risen). You must be mad, both of you.
Bjørn. The man would not swear that he had seen right. (Smiles.) Somehow he seemed sorry that he had told me. He said he had never seen two people more alike, and Eyvind had a scar on his forehead just as Kari has—that much he remembered plainly.
Halla. It was last Sunday at church that he saw Kari?
Bjørn. Yes.
Halla (laughing). Kari was not at church last Sunday.
Bjørn. That's queer. Two of my men were there. But we can easily solve that riddle, if I bring my guest over here to-morrow.
Halla. I don't believe for a moment that Kari is a thief.
Bjørn. You need not believe it. Simply tell him what I have said, and that I mean to have the judge look into the matter. I warrant he will be out of the house before sunrise.
Halla. You are quick to believe evil and quick to run to the judge, but in this case you will not reap much honor.
Bjørn. If you suppose I shall act hastily, you are mistaken. I shall write to the county that Eyvind hails from and give the letter to my guest, who will see that it gets safely and speedily into the proper hands. The answer can be here within two or three months.
Halla. Is it out of kindness to me that you are so eager about this matter?
Bjørn. If it is true what people say, it would be best for you that Kari should take himself away from here as fast as can be. You might find it harder to part from him two or three months hence.
Halla (icily). Now you show your real self. You did not come here to give me kind counsel, nor do I look for such from you, but you had better leave me and my household in peace. Do you think I have forgotten what you did to me? When your brother told you that he intended to marry me, you thought it would be a disgrace to the family for him to make a poor servant girl his wife. You urged him to satisfy his fleeting passion, as you called it, without any marriage.
Bjørn. I never said that.
Halla (laying her hand on her heart). In here I have a sealed book in which I keep the words my friends have spoken. And I have more to tell you. There was something behind it—your fear of losing a part of your power.
Bjørn. What are you saying?
Halla. Did that prick your soul, you godly man! You knew that your brother would follow your advice like a child, but you had misgivings that you could not work me like dough in your hands, and what you feared came true. You can never forget that I made my husband stand on his own feet. I know your greed for power! But now I warn you for all time to let me and mine alone. (Sits down.)
Bjørn (flushed with anger, but still controlling his voice). Much have I learned to-night that I did not know before. Now I see why you made Kari overseer. You are not your mother's daughter for nothing.
Halla (her lips trembling). You want to make me angry. You can't do it. Nor shall you succeed in blackening Kari in my eyes. You were hoping that I should hurt him by telling him what you have said. I shall not tell him.
Bjørn. You will talk differently when I hold the proof in my hand. (Shakes his hand; goes toward the door.)
Halla (rising, hatred burning in her eyes). Just before you came, the servants were making bets about who was best at glima, you or Kari. Oddny was the only one who stood up for you. Kari thought you had grown so old and stiff in your joints that you would not dare to go in for a wrestling-match.
Bjørn. Tell Kari that I am ready to meet him this evening, if he wishes it.
Halla. No, I shall tell Kari that you have given your word to wrestle with him at the big sheep-folds in the fall. I hope to have a good many witnesses, when the bailiff bites the dust.
Bjørn. I will fight him whenever and wherever he may wish—anywhere but in jail. Good-bye! Exit.
Halla (stands motionless for a moment; passes her hands down over her face; goes to the door; calls). Gudfinna! Gudfinna! (Goes back into the room; again passes her hands down over her face.)
Enter Gudfinna.
Gudfinna. Has the bailiff gone?
Halla. Yes.
Gudfinna. He came near upsetting me in the hall and didn't even say good evening.
Halla. Do sweep the floor! I won't have in here the dirt he has dragged with him.
(Gudfinna takes a bird's wing and sweeps.)
Enter the Boy.
The Boy (shouting). Come and see what we have caught!
Gudfinna. Not so noisy! Did you catch a whale?
The Boy. We got a salmon—so big! (Shows the size with his hands.)
Halla. Tell Kari to come here; I want to speak with him. I will let you take care of the salmon. Open and clean it, sprinkle some salt on it, and lay it in fresh grass overnight.
The Boy. Won't you look at it before it is cut?
Halla (patting his cheek). You big baby! Do you think I have never seen a salmon before? Now run and tell Kari that I want to speak to him. Exit the Boy.
Gudfinna (calling after him through the door). And tell him to lift the milk pot from the fire.
Halla. If the coals are good, I must ask you to do some baking to-night for Sunday.
Gudfinna. The coals are good enough. Exit.
(Halla stands listening. Footsteps are heard in the hall.)
Enter Kari.
Kari. You wanted to speak to me?
Halla. I hear you have made a fine catch. Thank you! I have promised the bailiff that you shall meet him in a glima at the folds in the autumn. What do you say to that?
Kari. I call that great news, but surely that was not what he came here for to-night?
Halla. No, he had another errand. He spoke ill of you.
Kari. What did he say?
Halla. There is a man just come from the south who saw you at church last Sunday. He told Bjørn that you looked like some one by the name of Eyvind, a thief who had run away. He even thought he recognized the scar on your forehead.
Kari (in a low voice, sitting down). And did the bailiff believe the man was right?
Halla. He said I should tell you that he meant to speak to the judge, and that then you would flee from here this very night.
Kari (rising with a loud laugh). This is to laugh at. Do you know when they will come to catch the thief!
Halla (has been looking at him steadily; holds out her hand to him). Give me your hand, Kari, and say that you have nothing to fear from any man.
Kari (evasively). I understand that this seems strange to you, but the man who saw me must be some one who has a grudge against me from former days, and does this out of spite.
Halla. What do I care about him or about the bailiff! Say that you are innocent!
Kari. So you doubt me, too!
Halla (aloof). I have no right to call you to task.
Kari (warmly). I know of no one in the world whom I would rather trust than you.
Halla. You are innocent?
Kari. Yes, in this I am innocent.
Halla. God be praised! (Puts her hand on her heart.) If it had been otherwise, I don't see how I could have borne it.
Kari. I shall remember the bailiff for this.
Halla (in an outburst of joy). Let him do his worst! What care we! I am so happy now that I know you are innocent, I could kiss you for joy. (Exultantly.) Kari, will you be my husband?
(It is growing dark.)
Kari (terrified). No, Halla, I cannot.
Halla (stares at him, speechless. Suddenly she goes close to him and scans his face). Have you a wife?
Kari. No.
Halla. I could not believe that your eyes lied this evening. (Stamps her foot with anger and shame.) Take yourself away from here! Go! (Covers her face with her hands; rocks to and fro.)
Kari. My eyes did not lie to-night. (Stands for a moment in terrible emotion; then begins to walk up and down.) I knew a man named Eyvind. His father was poor and had many children. Eyvind was the next to the oldest. It was said in those parts that thieving ran in the blood of his kin, though no one could say anything against Eyvind's father. (Halla looks up, listening.) Two years ago or more, toward the end of the winter, it happened, as often before, that there was no food in the house. Eyvind went to the parson to ask him to help them out with food. He offered to pay for it with his work in the spring, but the parson refused. It was late in the evening, dark and snowing. The road to Eyvind's home went past the parson's sheep-cots. (As Kari proceeds, he now and then passes his hand over his forehead.) They loomed before him like a big black mound. Then the temptation came over him. The herdsman had gone home, the snow would cover up the tracks, and the parson was rich enough. I hated him! (Halla rises.) Late that night, Eyvind came home with a fine big sheep. The next day, word came from the parson. They had found his mittens in the sheep-cot. Eyvind was locked up and given ten years in prison. They thought they could prove that he had more thefts to answer for— (He breaks off suddenly.)
Halla (breathlessly). Kari!
Kari. My name is not Kari—it is Eyvind. I was sentenced for theft. I fled and lived one year in the hills as an outlaw.
Halla. After this I shall never believe in any one. (Sits down and bursts into tears.)
Kari (kneeling). Do with me what you will. Drive me out of your house—now—this evening, or give me into the hands of the law, but you must forgive me. It was our poverty and the snow that made me steal.
Halla (rising). I will not cry. It is stupid to cry. Get up! I am no God that you should ask my forgiveness.
Kari (rising to his feet). It is lonesome to live a whole winter up there in the hills. That is why I ventured down here, far from home, and under a new name. Since then I have gone about like one who walks in his sleep, afraid of the awakening. Many a time have I made up my mind to tell you the whole truth, but somehow it seemed to get harder with every day that passed. I have never understood why it was so before to-night, but now I know it, and now I can speak of it. Kari has loved you. You are the only woman he has ever loved, but now Kari is no more, and never has been anything but the dream of a poor and unhappy man.
Halla. Say no more!
Kari. He has loved you long, but never until to-night has he seen how beautiful you are. (Carried away.) Like a blue mountain rising from the mist!
Halla (stepping close to him). Close your eyes, Kari, and sleep yet a while. Kiss me!
Kari (kissing her). I will sleep with my eyes open.
A resting-place near one of the large folds into which the sheep are driven in the autumn, when they are gathered down from the hills. A grass-grown dell. On the left, a steep heather-covered slope, here and there in the heather gray, jutting stones. To the right, a low bluff, where grass, flowers, and juniper bushes grow in the clefts and on the ledges. Toward the background, the bluff becomes lower and more bushy, and bending somewhat to the left, it partly shuts off the view into a hilly, rock-studded landscape with the distant mountains beyond. In the foreground, at the foot of the bluff, several saddles. The women's saddles have broad, brass-mounted backs.
It is a fine autumn day. Gudfinna alone is busy with the luggage.
Enter Arngrim carrying a roll of paper under his arm. His face is livid and drawn.
Arngrim. So you are all alone here.
Gudfinna. Indeed I am. I did not want to leave the luggage, and it seemed a pity to keep the boy from the folds.
Arngrim. Is Halla up at the folds?
Gudfinna. I don't know where she is now. She is so restless to-day. A while ago she climbed up on a knoll to see if the last drove was coming down from the hills. I hardly know whether it's the sheep or Kari she is looking for.
Arngrim. We don't get tired of watching for what we are looking forward to. I have but one thing to look forward to. (Sits down on one of the rocks.)
Gudfinna. And what is that, poor fellow?
Arngrim. To hear the nails being driven into my coffin. Then I should say like the man in the story: "Now I'd laugh if I weren't dead."
Enter Halla, happy and smiling, wearing a silver girdle around her waist.
Halla. The last flock is coming, and it is not the smallest. Kari is with it.
Gudfinna. Of course he is with it.
Halla (laughing). Yes, of course. (To Arngrim.) I am glad to see you here.
Arngrim. Did you happen to bring anything good from home?
Halla (smiling). You never can tell. (Searching in one of the saddle-bags, she finds a blue flask which she hands to Arngrim.) You may keep the bottle.
Arngrim. That is just like you. (Holds the flask up to the light.) There are juniper berries in it. (Takes a pull.) It is like drinking sunshine.
Halla (has moved toward the background and stands gazing). What a change in the sheep since spring. Then they were yellow and dirty, but now they are white as ptarmigans in winter. It always makes me happy to see a flock of sheep coming down the mountain side.
Gudfinna. Kari's shoes must be a sight. He doesn't save his legs, that man.
Halla. No, you are right in that. (Goes to Gudfinna.) But he runs swifter than any one else.
Arngrim. No one can run away from his fate, were he fleeter than the wind.
Halla (turns to Arngrim). Are you sure of that? May not a strong will turn the tide of fate?
Arngrim. My fate no one can alter. (Looks up.) An old song comes to my mind when I look at you. I cannot remember how it runs, but it is about some one who had the thoughts of her soul written on her forehead.
Halla (smiling). I feel only the sun shining on my brow. Exit.
Arngrim. She deserves to be happy. (Brings out the roll of paper.) Should you like to see what I am doing to make the days slip by?
Gudfinna (goes to him). Yes, let me look at it.
Arngrim (opens the roll, which is seen to contain drawings in bright colors). These are birds from the garden of Eden—too bad I never heard them sing!—and here is a blue flower so sensitive that it closes at the slightest touch, and here is a small plant from Gethsemane with red berries lying like drops of blood on the ground.
Enter the Boy, running.
The Boy. Kari is coming!
Gudfinna. We know that.
The Boy. I must be off again to help drive the sheep into the fold. (Leaps with joy.) What fun to be here! It's most as good as Christmas! Exit.
Arngrim. He skips about like a merry little lamb.
Gudfinna (calling after him). Take care the rams don't butt you!
Enter Halla.
Halla. Now the sheep will soon be at the fold. (Brushes her hair back from her forehead.) Aren't you clever enough to know a cure for freckles? I am so tired of my freckles.
Arngrim (smiling). Perhaps you have a new looking-glass.
Halla (smiling). Perhaps I have.
Enter Jon and two other peasants, followed directly by two peasant women, Jon's Wife, and her friend with two little daughters, eight and nine years old.
Jon (slightly intoxicated). Now a bite of shark's meat would taste first-rate. You didn't happen to be so thoughtful as to bring some, did you?
Halla (laughing). That is just what I did. (Looks in the saddle-bags.)
Jon. Didn't I tell you so! (Takes a brandy-flask out of his pocket.) Do you mind if I bring out my bottle?
Halla. Please yourself.
Jon (sits down. The others follow suit, until only the children remain standing) If I didn't have so fine a wife, I should have asked you to marry me long ago. (Takes a pull at the flask and hands it to the one sitting next to him.) Let the bottle go the rounds!
Halla (to Jon's Wife). Your husband is happy to-day.
Jon's Wife. Yes, he loves everybody to-day.
First Peasant (hands the flask to Jon). Thanks!
Jon. Don't think I am forgetting you, Arngrim. (Hands him the flask.)
Arngrim. The blood grows colder as one gets old, and then the warmth of the bottle feels good.
Halla (hands Jon a piece of shark's meat). Help yourself.
Jon. Bless you! My mouth waters. (Takes a knife from his pocket and cuts off a slice.) It is white as milk and sweet-smelling. I say, shark's meat and brandy are the best things the Lord ever made—next to women! (Hands the fish to one of the peasants.)
Halla (finds a piece of sugar-candy and divides it between the children). Have the little girls been to the folds before?
Peasant Woman. No, this is the first time. I promised them last spring that if they were good and worked hard I would bring them, and they have surely earned it. It's past belief how much they can do, no older than they are.
Halla. Did you see the last flock? That was a large one. (Goes toward the background.)
Jon's Wife. Indeed it was.
Jon. My brown bell-wether was the leader of the flock. He generally stays in the hills till they gather in the sheep for the last time, unless there are signs of bad weather. (Gudfinna crosses over to the peasant women and fingers their clothes. They stand talking together.)
First Peasant. I should not wonder if the winter were to come early after so good a summer.
Second Peasant. God knows how many sheep the hills have taken this year! Do you remember those cold days in the spring? It may be a good many lambs froze to death.
First Peasant. And then those cursed foxes!
Jon. The foxes are nothing to the men—both those down here and those in the hills.
Second Peasant. I don't believe there is anybody living in the hills, at least not in these parts.
Jon. You don't believe it? I tell you, my good man, there are more outlaws than you think. To my mind, the laws are to blame for it. If I had my say, all thieves would be strung up.
Second Peasant. Well, I look at it in another way. I believe the laws are too strict. It seems to me it is making too much of the sheep, when a man is locked up for life because he has stolen two or three of them.
Jon. You always have to be of a different mind from anybody else.
(Halla comes back and listens.)
Second Peasant. I don't know about that, but those who flee to the hills do it from need. If the laws were milder, I believe there would be no outlaws. What do you say, Arngrim?
Arngrim. If we were all to be judged by our thoughts, the hills would be swarming with outlaws.
Halla. It is too light yet to be talking about thieves. Can't you tell us something funny?
Jon's Wife. Tell about our calf.
Jon (laughing). When he saw the sun for the first time in his life, he fell down on his tail from fright.
Enter Arnes, somewhat intoxicated.
Jon. There comes the man who can tell us stories. (Rises and goes to meet him.)
Arnes. Good day to you all! So you want a story?
Jon. You shall have a drink if you tell us a story, but it must be a good one.
Arnes. Hand me the bottle. (Drinks.) I could tell you some spook stories that would make your hair stand on end, but they are better told in the gloaming. (Laughs.) The girls are less afraid of us men folks when they hear about spooks.
Jon (laughing). Yes, of two evils men are better than spooks.
Arnes (sees Halla). Now I know what I shall tell you. Hush! Once upon a time there were two outlaws. What their crime had been I don't know, but they had to flee to the hills to save their lives. They found a green spot among the glaciers, hemmed in by huge rocks. There they built their hut, for there they knew they would be left in peace. But the hills were hankering for their old loneliness and hated those two, and swore they would drive them away. First they sent the storms and the frost. There came a winter night so terrible that the roots of the grass trembled with fear under the snow, but unknown to those two their love had built an invisible wall around the hut, and the storm and the snow could not get in. Then the hills sent hunger. It came to them in their dreams, tempting them with sweet-smelling hot bread and butter fresh from the churn. It would have them barter their love—
Enter a Farm Hand.
The Farm Hand. Is Arnes here by any chance?
Arnes. Here I am.
The Farm Hand. There is a sheep with earmarks that nobody can make out. Will you come over and take a look at it?
Arnes (rising). No peace to be had!
Halla (holding out her hand to Arnes). Thanks for the story. Arnes takes Halla's hand. Exit.
The Farm Hand (to Jon). Your brown bell-wether ran away from the men as they were trying to drive it in.
Jon (rising). That promises a fine fall. (All the peasants rise.)
Jon's Wife (to Halla). We shall see each other later.
Halla. So we shall. Exeunt peasants.
Gudfinna. They have not been sparing of the shark's meat. (Packs it away.)
Enter Kari, warm from running, happy and smiling.
Kari. Good day to you, Halla! (Shakes hands with her.)
Halla (has gone to meet Kari). Good day to you, and welcome back!
Arngrim (rising). Now I am so drunk that I can enjoy listening to the bleating of the sheep. By the way, washing with lukewarm milk is good for freckles. Exit.
Halla. Thanks! (To Gudfinna.) You may go now, if you like. You have been here with the luggage long enough. Exit Gudfinna.
(Halla and Kari stand silent until Gudfinna has disappeared. Then Kari draws her to him and kisses her.)
Halla. I would rather wait for you here than meet you at the fold. I was so frightened! I thought you had gone and would never come back. (Takes his hand and looks at him in loving wonder.) Where do you get your courage? I can't understand that you have not fled long ago.
Kari. I will tell you where I get my courage. (Kisses her.) I don't know how the days can be so gloriously long. It seems to me that I have lived more than the age of man since the first time you kissed me.
Halla. You love me!
Kari (is silent for a moment). I love you.
Halla. You don't know how much that one word promises me. It means the sunshine on the hills. It means the streams and lakes. Shall I tell you something, Kari? Something you don't know?
Kari. What could that be?
Halla. I am not going to say it just now, but I will tell you something else. I care a thousand times more for you now than I did three months ago. Do you know why?
Kari. No.
Halla. Because you are so brave. You sleep in my arms as calmly as if you had not a foe in the whole country.
Kari (smiling). I must have borrowed your courage.
Halla. It is dear to see you smile. Your hair is like a cloud, and when you smile it seems to lift from your forehead.
Kari. You must not make me out braver than I am. Part of my courage is recklessness. I close my eyes and let the sun shine on my face.
Halla. Do you never think of the future?
Kari (earnestly). I do.
Halla. I have blamed myself much these last days. I ought to have sent you away long ago, but I could not. I had to be sure that you loved me. Last night I heard the hills calling you, and I called against them with all my soul. If you had never come back, I would have forgiven you, though it had broken my heart. (Exultantly.) And then I saw you coming down the mountain like a god, driving a white snowslide before you!
Kari. Did you think I could have gone without letting you know? I remember once you had fallen asleep in my arms. The night was light. Your eyes were closed, but I could see through your eyelids. I saw a little girl with black hair. (Fondly stroking her hair.)
Halla (taking his right hand). How well I know this hand! (Lays it on her heart.) My heart beats with joy.
Kari. I am like the man in the fairy-tale who fell down into a deep well. He thought he would never again see the sun, but suddenly he stood in a green meadow. There was a tall castle, and the king's daughter came out to meet him. Halla, do you understand? If I had not stolen, we two should never have met.
Halla. That is true.
Kari. The year I lived in the hills, I would sometimes get into such a rage that I wanted to give myself a good thrashing. Once I really did it—I beat myself with a knotted rope.
Halla. How you must have suffered!
Kari. If anybody had told me in those days that I should ever become a happy man, I would have laughed at him. Then I believed riches and honors meant happiness. I used to dream of riding through the parish where I was born, dressed in fine clothes and with many horses.