Falk [firing up].
You have the face to say so?
Guldstad [quietly].
Years give right.
Say now you won her—
Falk [defiantly].
And what then?
Guldstad [slowly and emphatically].
Yes, say
She ventured in one bottom to embark
Her all, her all upon one card to play,—
And then life’s tempest swept the ship away,
And the flower faded as the day grew dark?
Falk [involuntarily].
She must not!
Guldstad [looking at him with meaning].
Hm. So I myself decided
When I was young, like you. In days of old
I was afire for one. Our paths divided.
Last night we met again;—the fire was cold.
Falk.
Last night?
Guldstad.
Last night. You know the parson’s dame—
Falk.
What? It was she, then, who—
Guldstad.
Who lit the flame.
Long I remembered her with keen regret,
And still in my remembrance she arose
As the young lovely woman that she was
When in life’s buoyant spring-time first we met.
And that same foolish fire you now are fain
To light, that game of hazard you would dare.
See, that is why I call to you—beware!
The game is perilous! Pause, and think again!
Falk.
No, to the whole tea-caucus I declared
My fixed and unassailable belief—
Guldstad [completing his sentence].
That heartfelt love can weather unimpaired
Custom, and Poverty, and Age, and Grief.
Well, say it be so; possibly you’re right;
But see the matter in another light.
What love is, no man ever told us—whence
It issues, that ecstatic confidence
That one life may fulfil itself in two,—
To this no mortal ever found the clue.
But marriage is a practical concern,
As also is betrothal, my good sir—
And by experience easily we learn
That we are fitted just for her, or her.
But love, you know, goes blindly to its fate,
Chooses a woman, not a wife, for mate;
And what if now this chosen woman was
No wife for you—?
Falk [in suspense].
Well?
Guldstad [shrugging his shoulders].
Then you’ve lost your cause.
To make a happy bridegroom and a bride
Demands not love alone, but much beside,
Relations one can meet with satisfaction,
Ideas that do not wholly disagree.
And marriage? Why, it is a very sea
Of claims and calls, of taxing and exaction,
Whose bearing upon love is very small.
Here mild domestic virtues are demanded,
A kitchen soul, inventive and neat handed,
Making no claims, and executing all;—
And much which in a lady’s presence I
Can hardly with decorum specify.
Falk.
And therefore—?
Guldstad.
Hear a golden counsel then.
Use your experience; watch your fellow-men,
How every loving couple struts and swaggers
Like millionaires among a world of beggars.
They scamper to the altar, lad and lass,
They make a home and, drunk with exultation,
Dwell for awhile within its walls of glass.
Then comes the day of reckoning;—out, alas,
They’re bankrupt, and their house in liquidation!
Bankrupt the bloom of youth on woman’s brow,
Bankrupt the flower of passion in her breast,
Bankrupt the husband’s battle-ardour now,
Bankrupt each spark of passion he possessed.
Bankrupt the whole estate, below, above,—
And yet this broken pair were once confessed
A first-class house in all the wares of love!
Falk [vehemently].
That is a lie!
Guldstad [unmoved].
Some hours ago ’twas true
However. I have only quoted you;—
In these same words you challenged to the field
The “caucus” with love’s name upon your shield.
Then rang repudiation fast and thick
From all directions, as from you at present;
Incredible, I know; who finds it pleasant
To hear the name of death when he is sick?
Look at the priest! A painter and composer
Of taste and spirit when he wooed his bride;—
What wonder if the man became a proser
When she was snugly settled by his side?
To be his lady-love she was most fit;
To be his wife, tho’—not a bit of it.
And then the clerk, who once wrote clever numbers?
No sooner was the gallant plighted, fixed,
Than all his rhymes ran counter and got mixed;
And now his Muse continuously slumbers,
Lullabied by the law’s eternal hum.
Thus you see— [Looks at Svanhild.
Are you cold?
Svanhild [softly].
No.
Falk [with forced humour].
Since the sum
Works out a minus then in every case
And never shows a plus,—why should you be
So resolute your capital to place
In such a questionable lottery?
It almost looks as if you fancied Fate
Had meant you for a bankrupt from your birth?
Guldstad [looks at him, smiles, and shakes his head].
My bold young Falk, reserve a while your mirth.—
There are two ways of founding an estate.
It may be built on credit—drafts long-dated
On pleasure in a never-ending bout,
On perpetuity of youth unbated,
And permanent postponement of the gout.
It may be built on lips of rosy red,
On sparkling eyes and locks of flowing gold,
On trust these glories never will be shed,
Nor the dread hour of periwigs be tolled.
It may be built on thoughts that glow and quiver,—
Flowers blowing in the sandy wilderness,—
On hearts that, to the end of life, for ever
Throb with the passion of the primal “yes.”
To dealings such as this the world extends
One epithet: ’tis known as “humbug,” friends.
Falk.
I see, you are a dangerous attorney,
You—well-to-do, a millionaire may-be;
While two broad backs could carry in one journey
All that beneath the sun belongs to me.
Guldstad [sharply].
What do you mean?
Falk.
That is not hard to see.
For the sound way of building, I suppose,
Is just with cash—the wonder-working paint
That round the widow’s batten’d forehead throws
The aureole of a young adored saint.
Guldstad.
O no, ’tis something better that I meant.
’Tis the still flow of generous esteem,
Which no less honours the recipient
Than does young rapture’s giddy-whirling dream.
It is the feeling of the blessedness
Of service, and home quiet, and tender ties,
The joy of mutual self-sacrifice,
Of keeping watch lest any stone distress
Her footsteps wheresoe’er her pathway lies;
It is the healing arm of a true friend,
The manly muscle that no burdens bend,
The constancy no length of years decays,
The arm that stoutly lifts and firmly stays.
This, Svanhild, is the contribution I
Bring to your fortune’s fabric: now, reply.

[Svanhild makes an effort to speak; Guldstad lifts his hand to check her.

Consider well before you give your voice!
With clear deliberation make your choice.
Falk.
And how have you discovered—
Guldstad.
That you love her?
That in your eyes ’twas easy to discover.
Let her too know it.
[Presses his hand.
Now I will go in.
Let the jest cease and earnest work begin;
And if you undertake that till the end
You’ll be to her no less a faithful friend,
A staff to lean on, and a help in need,
Than I can be— [Turning to Svanhild.
Why, good, my offer’s nought;
Cancel it from the tables of your thought.
Then it is I who triumph in very deed;
You’re happy, and for nothing else I fought.
[To Falk.
And, apropos—just now you spoke of cash,
Trust me, ’tis little more than tinsell’d trash.
I have no ties, stand perfectly alone;
To you I will make over all I own;
My daughter she shall be, and you my son.
You know I have a business by the border:
There I’ll retire, you set your home in order,
And we’ll foregather when a year is gone.
Now, Falk, you know me; with the same precision
Observe yourself: the voyage down life’s stream,
Remember, is no pastime and no dream.
Now, in the name of God—make your decision!

[Goes into the house. Pause. Falk and Svanhild look shyly at each other.

Falk.
You are so pale.
Svanhild.
And you so silent.
Falk.
True.
Svanhild.
He smote us hardest.
Falk. [to himself].
Stole my armour, too.
Svanhild.
What blows he struck!
Falk.
He knew to place them well.
Svanhild.
All seemed to go to pieces where they fell.
[Coming nearer to him.
How rich in one another’s wealth before
We were, when all had left us in despite,
And Thought rose upward like the echoing roar
Of breakers in the silence of the night.
With exultation then we faced the fray,
And confidence that Love is lord of death;—
He came with worldly cunning, stole our faith,
Sowed doubt,—and all the glory pass’d away!
Falk [with wild vehemence].
Tear, tear it from thy memory! All his talk
Was true for others, but for us a lie!
Svanhild [slowly shaking her head].
The golden grain, hail-stricken on its stalk,
Will never more wave wanton to the sky.
Falk [with an outburst of anguish].
Yes, we two, Svanhild—!
Svanhild.
Hence with hopes that snare!
If you sow falsehood, you must reap despair.
For others true, you say? And do you doubt
That each of them, like us, is sure, alike,
That he’s the man the lightning will not strike,
And no avenging thunder will find out,
Whom the blue storm-cloud, scudding up the sky
On wings of tempest, never can come nigh?
Falk.
The others split their souls on scattered ends:
Thy single love my being comprehends.
They’re hoarse with yelling in life’s Babel din:
I in this quiet shelter fold thee in.
Svanhild.
But if love, notwithstanding, should decay,
—Love being Happiness’s single stay—
Could you avert, then, Happiness’s fall?
Falk.
No, my love’s ruin were the wreck of all.
Svanhild.
And can you promise me before the Lord
That it will last, not drooping like the flower,
But smell as sweet as now till life’s last hour?
Falk [after a short pause].
It will last long.
Svanhild [with anguish].
“Long!” “Long!”—Poor starveling word!
Can “long” give any comfort in Love’s need?
It is her death-doom, blight upon her seed.
“My faith is, Love will never pass away”—
That song must cease, and in its stead be heard:
“My faith is, that I loved you yesterday!”
[As uplifted by inspiration.
No, no, not thus our day of bliss shall wane,
Flag drearily to west in clouds and rain;—
But at high noontide, when it is most bright,
Plunge sudden, like a meteor, into night!
Falk. [in anguish].
What would you, Svanhild?
Svanhild.
We are of the Spring;
No Autumn shall come after, when the bird
Of music in thy breast shall not be heard,
And long not thither where it first took wing.
Nor ever Winter shall his snowy shroud
Lay on the clay-cold body of our bliss;—
This Love of ours, ardent and glad and proud,
Pure of disease’s taint and age’s cloud,
Shall die the young and glorious thing it is!
Falk [in deep pain].
And far from thee—what would be left of life?
Svanhild.
And near me what were left—if Love depart?
Falk.
A home!
Svanhild.
Where Joy would gasp in mortal strife.
[Firmly.
It was not given to me to be your wife.
That is the clear conviction of my heart!
In courtship’s merry pastime I can lead,
But not sustain your spirit in its need.
[Nearer and with gathering fire.
Now we have revell’d out a feast of spring;
No thought of slumber’s sluggard couch come nigh!
Let Joy amid delirious song make wing
And flock with choirs of cherubim on high.
And tho’ the vessel of our fate capsize,
One plank yet breasts the waters, strong to save;—
The fearless swimmer reaches Paradise!
Let Joy go down into his watery grave;
Our Love shall yet in triumph, by God’s hand,
Be borne from out the wreckage safe to land!
Falk.
O, I divine thee! But—to sever thus!
Now, when the portals of the world stand wide,—
When the blue spring is bending over us,
On the same day that plighted thee my bride!
Svanhild.
Just therefore must we part. Our joy’s torch fire
Will from this moment wane till it expire!
And when at last our worldly days are spent,
And face to face with our great Judge we stand,
And, as a righteous God, he shall demand
Of us the earthly treasure that he lent—
Then, Falk, we cry—past power of Grace to save—
“O Lord, we lost it going to the grave!”
Falk [with strong resolve].
Pluck off the ring!
Svanhild [with fire].
Wilt thou?
Falk.
Now I divine!
Thus and no otherwise canst thou be mine!
As the grave opens into life’s Dawn-fire,
So Love with Life may not espoused be
Till, loosed from longing and from wild desire,
It soars into the heaven of memory!
Pluck off the ring, Svanhild!
Svanhild [in rapture].
My task is done!
Now I have filled thy soul with song and sun.
Forth! Now thou soarest on triumphant wings,—
Forth! Now thy Svanhild is the swan that sings!
[Takes off the ring and presses a kiss upon it.
To the abysmal ooze of ocean bed
Descend, my dream!—I fling thee in its stead!

[Goes a few steps back, throws the ring into the fjord, and approaches Falk with a transfigured expression.

Now for this earthly life I have foregone thee,—
But for the life eternal I have won thee!
Falk [firmly].
And now to the day’s duties, each, alone.
Our paths no more will mingle. Each must wage
His warfare single-handed, without moan.
We caught the fevered frenzy of the age,
Fain without fighting to secure the spoil,
Win Sabbath ease, and shirk the six days’ toil,
Tho’ we are called to strive and to forego.
Svanhild.
But not in sickness.
Falk.
No,—made strong by truth.
Our heads no penal flood will overflow;
This never-dying memory of our youth
Shall gleam against the cloud-wrack like the bow
Of promise flaming in its colours seven,—
Sign that we are in harmony with heaven.
That gleam your quiet duties shall make bright—
Svanhild.
And speed the poet in his upward flight!
Falk.
The poet, yes; for poets all men are
Who see, thro’ all their labours, mean or great,
In pulpit or in schoolroom, church or state,
The Ideal’s lone beacon-splendour flame afar.
Yes, upward is my flight; the winged steed
Is saddled; I am strung for noble deed.
And now, farewell!
Svanhild.
Farewell!
Falk [embracing her].
One kiss!
Svanhild.
The last!
[Tears herself free.
Now I can lose thee gladly till life’s past!
Falk.
Tho’ quenched were all the light of earth and sky,—
The thought of light is God, and cannot die.
Svanhild [withdrawing towards the background].
Farewell!
[Goes further.
Falk.
Farewell—gladly I cry again—
[Waves his hat.
Hurrah for love, God’s glorious gift to men!

[The door opens. Falk withdraws to the right; the younger guests come out with merry laughter.

The Young Girls.
A lawn dance!
A Young Girl.
Dancing’s life!
Another.
A garland spread
With dewy blossoms fresh on every head!
Several.
Yes, to the dance, the dance!
All.
And ne’er to bed!

[Stiver comes out with Strawman arm in arm. Mrs. Strawman and the children follow.

Stiver.
Yes, you and I henceforward are fast friends.
Strawman.
Allied in battle for our common ends.
Stiver.
When the twin forces of the State agree—
Strawman.
They add to all men’s—
Stiver [hastily].
Gains!
Strawman.
And gaiety.

[Mrs. Halm, Lind, Anna, Guldstad, and Miss Jay, with the other guests, come out. All eyes are turned upon Falk and Svanhild. General amazement when they are seen standing apart.

Miss Jay [among the Aunts, clasping her hands].
What! Am I awake or dreaming, pray?
Lind [who has noticed nothing].
I have a brother’s compliments to pay.

[He, with the other guests, approaches Falk, but starts involuntarily and steps back on looking at him.

What is the matter with you? You’re a Janus
With double face!
Falk [smiling].
I cry, like old Montanus,
The earth is flat, Messieurs;—my optics lied;
Flat as a pancake—are you satisfied?
[Goes quickly out to the right.
Miss Jay.
Refused!
The Aunts.
Refused!
Mrs. Halm.
Hush, ladies, if you please!
[Goes across to Svanhild.
Mrs. Strawman [to Strawman].