SCENE III

[OLAF alone.]

OLAF. [Gazes out to the right.]

   As merry she is as the youthful roe,
   As it plays with no thought of the morrow;
   But soon will she wring her small hands in woe,
   And suffer in anguish and sorrow!
   Soon must I destroy the faith in her heart,
   And waken her out of her dreams.
   And then—yes, then we forever must part.
   Poor Alfhild!  So bitter your fate to me seems!

OLAF. [Brooding.]

   What cared I for honor, what cared I for power,
   What mattered my race when I wandered with you!
   It seemed in your eyes was reflected a flower,
   More precious than any the world ever knew!
   Forgotten I had both struggle and strife,
   But since I again came home to this life,
   Since at table I sat in my father's hall,
   Since I went to answer my mother's call—

OLAF. [Abruptly.]

  'Tis true from a noble race I am born,
   And Alfhild lives up in the mountains forlorn.
   In her I should find but a constant sorrow.
   I must tell her—yet, no, I can't let her know!
   Yet truly—I must—I must ere the morrow,
   She must hear what to me is the bitterest woe!







SCENE IV

[OLAF. ALFHILD from the church.]

   ALFHILD.  [Runs eagerly to meet him.]
   Olaf!  Olaf!  You have led me to the land
   Where I walk amid flowers, where before I trod on sand.
   In truth you have here so pleasant an isle,
   O here I can live without worry or guile!
   So much I would question, so little I know,
   The riddles must you explain as we go.—
   Is it green here always in summer and spring?

   OLAF.  Alfhild!

   ALFHILD.  Your answer delay!
   You see yon house with its spire and wing?
   There went I this morning to play;
   Without there was joy, there was laughter and mirth;
   Within it was still as nowhere on earth.
   I stepped through the door, I saw a great hall,
   Within was a peace that was fair;
   A dawn softly breaking pervaded it all,
   And people were kneeling in prayer.
   But high from above them a virgin looked down,
   She sailed upon clouds of white,
   Her head shone forth like a crimson crown,
   Like heaven when dawns the light.
   Calm was her face, a blue dress she wore,
   A beautiful elf in her arms she bore,
   And round about her played angels of love,
   That laughed when they saw me below in the door
   From their place in the heavens above!

   OLAF.  [Aside.]  Alas!  I have wrought so woeful a play,
   Soon will her sorrow begin!

   ALFHILD.  O, tell me, Olaf! what people are they
   Who live in the house I was in?

   OLAF.  Each one who like you is good and kind,
   Each one who is child-like in spirit and mind.
   'Tis the church, God's house,—it belongs to him.

   ALFHILD.  The mighty father!  'Tis only your whim!
   His house is high over the stars in the sky,
   Where the white swan sails undefiled,
   So high 'tis beyond any mortal eye
   Save that of the dreaming child!—
   The church that you spoke of!  So then it is there
   We shall ride in festal procession,
   As bridegroom and bride!

   OLAF.  [Aside.]  No longer I dare
   Delay my wretched confession!

   ALFHILD.  Ah, each of your words has burned like a coal,
   And deep its mark it has left on my soul!
   My bosom is filled with joy and with song;
   Wherever I wander in field or at home,
   They shine on my path, they light me along,—
   Like stars at night in the heavenly dome!
   You said the whole world would be asked to the feast,
   And foremost should ride the minstrel and priest,
   Knights should go forward and guide my steed,
   And roses should blossom on every side,
   Each lily we met should bow like a weed,
   The flowers should curtsy before the bride!

   OLAF.  Have I said—

    ALFHILD.  Olaf, you surely recall!
   All things have followed your every desire;
   The lindens stand yonder so green and so tall;
   The roses are decked in their festive attire
   And dance like elves at an elfen ball.
   Never did heaven's illumining eye
   So radiantly shine as here from the sky;
   Never before sang the birds so sweet!
   They sing the bride and the bridegroom to greet!—
   O, you—you make me so happy and blessed,
   Both heaven and earth could I hold to my breast!
   Nowhere can so humble a weed be found
   Which under my feet I could crush and destroy,
   Nowhere a creature so deep in the ground,
   But I would share in its sorrow and joy!
   My bosom is filled with the glory of spring;
   It surges and roars like a wood in a storm!

   OLAF.  [Aside.]  And soon this youthful and lovely form
   Shall writhe beneath sorrow's tormenting sting!

   ALFHILD.  O, glorious life!

   [She kneels with upstretched arms.]

   ALFHILD.  O father of love,
   In the distant heaven!  Had I but the power,
   The tongues of the angels above,
   Thy praise I should sing every hour;
   I cannot, for I am of little worth,
   I can only bow down before you to the earth—
   O thanks, thou unspeakable!  Glory and praise
   For all I can here understand of thy ways!

   [She rises.]

   ALFHILD.  Yes, lovely is life in its every breath,
   As lovely almost as the journey to death!

   OLAF.  In the grave you think it is pleasant to lie?

   ALFHILD.  I know not your meaning, but I brooded long.
   And asked of my father "What means it to die?"
   In answer thereto he sang me a song:

     "When the child of man is weighted with grief
     And longs to be rocked to rest,
     Then comes there an elf with wings of white
     And frees its spirit oppressed.

     "The little elf with his wings of white
     Makes ready a downy bed,
     Of lilies he weaves the linen sheets
     And pillows of roses red.

     "Away on the pillows he carries the child,
     He carries it safe on his arm,
     He takes it to heaven aloft on a cloud
     Away from all earthly harm.

     "And cherubs there are in the heaven above
     (I tell what is true to you);
     They strew the pillows of rosy red
     With pearls of white and of blue.

     "Then wakens the little earthly child,
     It wakens to heavenly mirth,—
     But all that happiness, all that joy
     There's no one that knows here on earth."

   OLAF.  'Twere better, alas! had you never come here,
   Had you lived in the mountain your peaceful life.
   Your joy like a weed will wither and sear,
   Your faith will be killed—

   ALFHILD.  But as Olaf's wife
   I am strong as the torrent and have no fear!
   With you by my side let happen what may,
   With you I will laugh and suffer and languish.

   ALFHILD.  [Listening.]  Hush, Olaf!  You hear that mournful lay,
   It sounds like a song of the bitterest anguish!

   CHORUS OF PALLBEARERS.  [Softly outside to the right.]
     The little child we carry
     With sorrow to the grave,
     Beneath the mould we bury
     What soon the worms will crave.

     Hard is this lot and dreary:
     With mournful dirge and sigh
     To carry sad and weary
     The child where it shall lie!

   ALFHILD.  [Uncertain and anxious.]
   What is it, Olaf?  What is it, I say?

   OLAF.  A child that death is bearing away,
   A mother and children weep on the way.

   ALFHILD.  Death!  Then where are the pillows of red,
   The lily-white linen, and where is the dead?

   OLAF.  I see no pillows of red or of gray,
   But only the dark black boards of the bier;
   And thereon the dead sleeps on shavings and hay.

   ALFHILD.  On shavings and hay?

   OLAF.  That is all there is here!

   ALFHILD.  And where is the elf who bears on his arm
   The child far away from all earthly harm?

   OLAF.  I see but a mother whose heart will break,
   And little children who follow the wake.

   ALFHILD.  And where are the pearls of blue and of white,
   That the angels strew in the heaven of light?

   OLAF.  I see only this,—they weep many a tear
   As they stand at the side of the bier.

   ALFHILD.  And where is the home, the house of God,
   Where the dead dream only of mirth?

   OLAF.  Behold!  Now they place him beneath the sod
   And cover him over with earth.

   ALFHILD.  [Quiet and thoughtful, after a pause.]
   Not so was death in the song—not so.

   OLAF.  'Tis true; but no such joy and pleasure
   Has any one felt here below.—
   Have you never heard of the mountain king's treasure,
   Which night after night like gold would glow;
   But if you would seize the gold in your hand,
   You nothing would find save gravel and sand;
   And listen, Alfhild! it often is true
   That life turns out in the selfsame way;
   Approach not too near, it may happen to you,
   That you burn your fingers some day.
   'Tis true it may shine like a heavenly star,
   But only when seen from afar.

   [He becomes aware of Lady Kirsten off the stage to the right.]

   OLAF.  My mother—she'll tell you—I shall depart.
   The angels above send their peace to your heart!

[He goes towards the house but is stopped by LADY KIRSTEN.—The sky becomes overcast with dark clouds; the wind begins to howl in the tree-tops.—ALFHILD stands absorbed in deep thought.]







SCENE V

[The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly.] Not so, my son, you have told her—?

OLAF. All I was able to say I have said. Now you tell her the rest, and then, mother, let me never, never see her again.

[He casts a glance at ALFHILD and goes out past the house.]

LADY KIRSTEN. That folly will soon be burned out of his soul, if—

LADY KIRSTEN. [As if she suddenly has an idea.] But in case I—Ah, if that could succeed, then would he be cured,—that I can promise. But Alfhild—? Well, nevertheless, it must be attempted.

ALFHILD.  [To herself.]
  So then there is here too anguish and woe;
  Well, so let it be; I shall never despair.
  The sorrow of earth I never need know,
  Still Olaf is good and fair!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Approaches.] It seems to me that gloomy thoughts are weighing upon your mind.

ALFHILD. Yes, yes, the result of things I have recently heard.

LADY KIRSTEN. From Olaf?

ALFHILD. Certainly from Olaf; he has told me—

LADY KIRSTEN. I know, Alfhild. I know what he has said.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] He has mentioned to her his wedding, I see.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] This very night it is to be held.

ALFHILD. What is to be held?

LADY KIRSTEN. The wedding!

ALFHILD. [Eagerly.] Oh, yes, that I know!

LADY KIRSTEN. You know it and do not take it more to your heart than this?

ALFHILD. No. Why should I take it to heart?

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] There is something she is meditating,—I see that clearly.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Well, so much the better for all of us. But tell me, when the wedding is over, what then will you do?

ALFHILD. I? I have little thought of that.

LADY KIRSTEN. I mean, have you in mind to remain here or to go home?

ALFHILD. [Looks at her, surprised.] I have in mind to remain!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] There we have it; she thinks to hold him in her wiles even after he is wed. Well, we shall see about that.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Alfhild! I wish you every possible good, and if you dared rely on my—

ALFHILD. Yes, that I certainly dare!

LADY KIRSTEN. Well and good; then you will let me take upon myself your happiness. I shall take charge of you as best I know how, and if you but give me your word you shall this very night go to the church as a bride.

ALFHILD. Yes, I know that.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Surprised.] You know that! Who has told you?

ALFHILD. Olaf himself said so.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Has Olaf—? Yes, forsooth, he has had the same idea that I had, to marry her off in order to be rid of her. Or perhaps in order to—well, no matter,—when she is finally married, when Olaf on his side is a married man, then—

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Well and good, Alfhild! If Olaf has told you our intention for you, then it is not necessary for me to—But do you now hasten, go in there in the store house; there you will find my own wedding gown; that you shall wear!

ALFHILD. [With childlike joy.] Shall I! Your own wedding gown!

LADY KIRSTEN. Do as I say. Go in there and dress yourself as splendidly as you please.

ALFHILD. And do I also get a bridal crown?

LADY KIRSTEN. Certainly! A bridal crown and silver rings and golden bracelet. You will find plenty of them in the coffers and chests.

ALFHILD. Silver rings and golden bracelets!

LADY KIRSTEN. Go, go, and hurry as fast as you can.

ALFHILD. O, I shall not be long about it.

[Claps her hands.]

ALFHILD. I shall have silver rings and golden bracelets!

[She runs out to the left.]







SCENE VI

[LADY KIRSTEN alone.]

LADY KIRSTEN. The evil and cursed woman! Happy and gay she is though she knows that Olaf is to wed another. But that very fact will serve me well; it will go easier than I had thought. She looks as innocent as a child, and yet she can agree to take him as a husband whom I first pick out for her. And I who thought that she truly loved Olaf! If he is still ignorant of her real spirit, he shall soon learn. He shall know her to the core, he shall know how she has bewitched and lured him, and then, well, then she is no longer dangerous.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] Well, well! Olaf thought of the same way of saving himself that I did; so good-natured I had never imagined him.—But where shall we find the man who is willing to—well, she is pretty, and I shall not mind a little silver and even a bit of land. Has Olaf already spoken to some one? That is hardly thinkable!—Well, then I shall see to that. I have servants enough on the estate and—

[Looks out to the right.]

LADY KIRSTEN. Hemming! what if I should try him! But he saw them together in the mountain yesterday; he must surely know there is something between the two. But none the less—he is a humble serving-man, and poor besides, and weak of mind—we shall see, we shall see!







SCENE VII

[LADY KIRSTEN. HEMMING from the right.]

HEMMING. [To himself.] Nowhere is Ingeborg to be found; she will bring me to my grave,—that is certain. Yesterday she was gracious to me; she gave me her ring; but then she took it away from me again; and today she will not so much as look at me as I pass.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Slowly, as she approaches.] A little cautious I must be.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Ah, Hemming, is it you? You prefer to wander alone, I see; you keep yourself away from the servants and maids; when I see such things I realize very well that you do so not without reason.

HEMMING. Why, my noble lady! what should—

LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, Hemming! there is something that you keep all to yourself as you go about; you are not very cheerful!

HEMMING. [Disconcerted.] Not cheerful? I?

LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] There is here today a young and beautiful girl whom you fancy very much.

HEMMING.  All saints!

LADY KIRSTEN. And she in turn has a fancy for you.

HEMMING.  Me—Whom?  I do not know whom you mean.

LADY KIRSTEN. Come, Hemming, do not speak so; before me you need not feel ashamed. Yes, yes, I see clearly, I tell you.

HEMMING. [Aside.] Heaven! she must have noticed by Ingeborg's manner that—

LADY KIRSTEN. I have seen that the wedding is but little joy to you. The trip to the church you care little about, since you would yourself like to go as a groom, yet cannot see your way clear.

HEMMING. [In the greatest agitation.] Alas, Lady Kirsten! my noble, august lady! be not offended!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Surprised.] I? And why should I be offended?

HEMMING. [Continuing.] I have struggled and fought against this unhappy love as long as I have been able, and I honestly believe she has done the same.

LADY KIRSTEN. She? Has she then told you that she cares for you?

HEMMING. Yes, almost!

LADY KIRSTEN. Well and good; then you talked about it together?

HEMMING. Yes,—but only once, only one single time, I swear.

LADY KIRSTEN. Once or ten times, it is all the same to me.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Then they are already agreed; it was certainly a stroke of luck that I came upon Hemming; now I am not at all surprised that Alfhild was so willing to go to the altar.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Hemming! I am much indebted to you for finding my son again and for otherwise being of help to me; now I shall make requital,—I shall to the limit of my power stand by you in the matter we just spoke of.

HEMMING. [Overcome with joy.] You! You will! Lady Kirsten! Alas, great God and holy saints! I hardly dare believe it.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Stops.] But Lord Olaf, your son! What do you think he will say?

LADY KIRSTEN. He will not interpose any objection,—I shall see to that.

HEMMING. [Unsuspecting.] Yes, truly, it would be best for him too, for I know she cares little for him.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] That I have noticed, Hemming!

HEMMING. Have you! Well, you are so clever, Lady Kirsten! And I who thought that I was the only one who had noticed it.

HEMMING. [Doubtfully.] Do you think that Lord Arne will give his consent?

LADY KIRSTEN. Your master? I shall know how to talk him into it,—that will not be so difficult.

HEMMING. You think so? Alas, but I am so poor a man.

LADY KIRSTEN. I shall remedy that all right, in case Lord Arne is not prepared to do so.

HEMMING. Thanks, thanks, Lady Kirsten! Heaven reward you for your kindness!

LADY KIRSTEN. But you will keep this that we have been speaking of to yourself.

HEMMING. That I promise.

LADY KIRSTEN. Then hold yourself in readiness; the guests will assemble out here in a little while now, and do you be on hand.

[She goes over to the door of the store house and looks for ALFHILD.]

HEMMING. [To himself.] No, this is to me like a strange illusive dream. Ingeborg and I,—we are to belong to each other! Ah, can it be true? So high I never dared let my thoughts ascend;—it seemed to me in the morning that I had been guilty of the greatest presumption if during the night I had dreamed about it.—Hm! I know very well of course that it is not for my sake that Lady Kirsten goes to all this trouble. She has something up her sleeve; she thinks it necessary to break the agreement with Lord Arne, and now that she has noticed that Ingeborg cares for me she will use that as an excuse. Well, I have so often given my master warning, but he will never believe me.

ARNE. [Calls outside to the left.] Hemming! Hemming!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Comes forward.] Your master calls! Go now! After a while I shall speak to him; he will agree. Believe me, he shall follow his page to the church in the same hour that he leads his daughter thither.

HEMMING. Thanks, thanks, Lady Kirsten! Truly, you confer a blessing on us all.

[He goes out to the left.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] So young she is and yet so cunning; she has been coquetting with Hemming all the while she made my son believe that—Well and good, he shall soon learn to know her arts. But first I must see Lord Arne; he thinks highly of Hemming and would reluctantly part with him; it seemed too that Hemming feared that something like that might stand in the way; but they can easily remain as they are even if Hemming marries.—Hemming sees more clearly in the affair than I had expected. What will Olaf say, he asked; he has evidently noticed that my son still thinks of Alfhild. Well, let him; if he takes her he will say nothing, and when Alfhild is married,—I know Olaf; he has always wanted to stand in high honor among the men of the village, and for that reason he will certainly—yes, yes, it must, it shall succeed.

[She goes out to the right.]







SCENE VIII

[HEMMING comes from the left with a bowl of ale hidden under his coat. ARNE follows him cautiously, looking about.]

ARNE. Is there anyone?

HEMMING. No, come along, master.

ARNE. But it seemed to me I heard Lady Kirsten.

HEMMING. She is gone now, come along!

ARNE. [Sits down on the bench to the left.] Hemming! it is well that the wedding is to be held tonight. Tomorrow I go home; yes, that I will. Not a day longer will I remain in Lady Kirsten's house.

HEMMING. Why, master! is there enmity again between you?

ARNE. Is it not enough, do you think, that she and all her superior relatives look down on me; at supper they laughed and jested among themselves because I could not bring myself to eat of all those ungodly, outlandish dishes. And what was it that we got to drink? Sweet wine and cider that will stay in my stomach for eight days. No, the good old homebrewed ale for me.

[Drinks and adds softly and bitterly.]

ARNE. Of this I had sent the wretched woman three full barrels. And what has she done? Thrown it to her servants, and here I must steal myself a drink,—yes, Hemming! steal myself a drink of my own ale, that they may not revile me as a coarse peasant, who doesn't understand the more refined drinks.

HEMMING. Well, master! I gave you warning.

ARNE. Ah—gave me warning! You are stupid, Hemming! You think I haven't noticed it myself; but wait, just wait!

ARNE. [Flaring up.] To place my good nourishing ale before the house servants, as though it were not worthy to be put on the table of a lord.—

HEMMING. Yes, Lady Kirsten treats you ill, that is certain.

ARNE. [Hands him the bowl.] Come, sit down and drink!

ARNE. [HEMMING sits down.] Listen, Hemming! I could wish we were home again.

HEMMING. Well, I have no fancy for this festive home.

ARNE. No, my old room at Guldvik for me;—when we sat there of an evening and played chess with the ale jug between us—

HEMMING. The while Mistress Ingeborg sat at the loom and embroidered roses and all sorts of flowers in the linen—

ARNE. And sang all the time so merrily that it seemed to me that I became young and active again. Yes, Hemming! when the wedding is over, we shall go back and live our old ways again.

HEMMING. But then there will be no one who works the loom and sings merry lays the while.

ARNE. No, that is true enough; Ingeborg will then be gone. It will be a little hard on me; she is wild and self-willed, but I shall miss her nevertheless,—miss her greatly.

ARNE. [Considers.] Now and then I suppose I could visit her here—But no, that I will not! Here they laugh at me, they whisper behind my back,—I see it well enough.

HEMMING. But in case you wished, it could still be changed.

ARNE. Changed! You are stupid, Hemming! Always you talk about changing.

ARNE. [Hands him the bowl.] Come, drink, it will do you good. Changed; no, no, it shall never be changed! It was evil spirits who put into my head the idea of marrying into Lady Kirsten's family. But now it is done; the superior kinsmen will have to behave as they please, but my own relatives and friends shall not laugh at me,—if I have given my word, I shall keep it too.

ARNE. [Disheartened.] If I only knew that Olaf would be kind to her; I shall ask him to—.

ARNE. [Vehemently.] He shall be kind, else I shall come and beat him with my old fists.

HEMMING. Yes, it is well that you keep your eye on her, for Olaf cares little for her, I do believe.

ARNE. So, you think so?

HEMMING. Do you remember Alfhild, the poor girl, who yesterday followed us down from the mountain?

ARNE. Indeed I do. She is pretty!

HEMMING. [Rises.] So thinks Olaf, too.

ARNE. What does that mean?

HEMMING. Olaf loves her! 'Tis many a time he visited her up there;—what Lady Kirsten has told you, you must never believe.

ARNE. And what you blab about I believe still less. You are provoked with Ingeborg because at times she makes fun of you, and therefore you begrudge her this attractive marriage; yes, yes, I know you too well.

HEMMING. Why, master! you could believe that—

ARNE. Make me believe that Olaf Liljekrans loves that beggar woman! A noble, high-born lord such as he! It is almost as if one were to say that Ingeborg, my daughter, had a fancy for you.

HEMMING. [Embarrassed.] For me—how could you ever imagine—

ARNE. No, I don't imagine! But the one is as unreasonable as the other. Come, drink! and don't talk any more such nonsense.

ARNE. [Rises.] There is Lady Kirsten with the guests. What's going to happen now?

HEMMING. They are all to assemble out here; they will then follow the bride and bridegroom to the banquet-table and thence to the church.

ARNE. Aye, what a cursed custom! To the church at night! Is then marriage a work of darkness?







SCENE IX

[The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN, OLAF, INGEBORG, GUESTS, and SERVANTS and MAIDS enter gradually from the several sides.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] I have not seen Olaf alone; but when I think it over, it is probably best that he know nothing about it until it is all over.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly, to HEMMING, who has been whispering with INGEBORG.] Well, Hemming! How do you think your master is disposed?

HEMMING. Alas, Lady Kirsten! I have but little hope unless you lend your aid.

LADY KIRSTEN. Aye, we'll manage it all right.

[She mingles with the GUESTS.]

INGEBORG. [Softly, to HEMMING.] What do you mean? What blessed hope is it you are speaking of?

HEMMING. Alas, I hardly dare believe it myself; but Lady Kirsten means well by us. She will soon show you that—

INGEBORG. Hush! they are approaching.

OLAF. [In an undertone.] Tell me, mother! how goes it with her?

LADY KIRSTEN. Well enough, as I knew before.

OLAF. Then she knows how to comfort herself?

LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] It seems so. Only wait! This very evening you shall know for certain.

OLAF. What do you mean?

LADY KIRSTEN. I mean that she is a sly witch. All her fair words have been deceitful wiles.

OLAF. No, no, mother!

LADY KIRSTEN. That we shall see! Alfhild is happy and gay,—so much I know.

OLAF. It were well for me if she were!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Loudly and clearly.] Lord Arne of Guldvik! Now is the hour come at length which we have all, I imagine, been looking forward to.

HEMMING. [Aside.] Now it begins!

LADY KIRSTEN. Soon will the church bestow its blessing on our children and unite them in a long and loving union.

HEMMING. [Aside, startled.] What now?

LADY KIRSTEN. The terms we have already agreed upon. But I suggest that we here once again seal them with hand and word.

HEMMING. [As before.] Heaven and earth! Is she trying to deceive me?

ARNE. That is not necessary; I stand by my word like an honorable man.

LADY KIRSTEN. That I well know, Lord Arne! but it will take but a moment. First of all, there shall be an end for all time to every quarrel and dispute between our families,—and as for the damages and injuries which our old disagreements have caused on either side, no one shall demand compensation for them; each must manage them as best he knows how. We promise that, do we not?

ARNE. That we promise!

[General shaking of hands among the relatives of the bridal couple.]

HEMMING. [Softly.] Curses upon you; you lied to me shamefully!

LADY KIRSTEN. Then we mention again, what we are already agreed upon, that the boundary line between Lord Arne's domains and mine shall be moved as far in upon his land as good and impartial men may judge to be fitting and just.

ARNE. Yes, yes, I suppose it must be so!

LADY KIRSTEN. That we promise, then?

THE GUESTS. That we promise!

[Shaking of hands as before.]

LADY KIRSTEN. Finally, Lord Arne shall give in the form of a dowry to his daughter as much silver, linen, and other furnishings as were named and agreed upon at the betrothal feast, all of which shall here be placed in my home from the day Mistress Ingeborg moves herein as my son's lawful wife, which is tonight. On that we are agreed?

THE GUESTS. That we solemnly promise!

[Shaking of hands.]

LADY KIRSTEN. Then let the bride and bridegroom clasp hands and go to the banquet-table and thence to the church.

ARNE. [Aside.] Ah, Hemming can now see whether Lady Kirsten deceives me.

HEMMING. [Softly.] O, then it is all over for me; a fool I was to depend on her.

LADY KIRSTEN. But on this joyful day it is fitting that we make as many as possible happy. And therefore I have a request to make, Lord Arne!

ARNE. Speak forth! If I can I shall gladly comply.

HEMMING. [Aside.] What does she purpose now?

LADY KIRSTEN. There is still a young couple who would like to go to the altar this evening; from what I hear, they are agreed between themselves. The bride I shall take care of, but the bridegroom you must assist; it is Hemming, your page, and Alfhild!

INGEBORG. [With a cry.] Hemming!

OLAF. [Likewise.] Alfhild!

HEMMING. O, woe is me! Now I understand—

THE GUESTS. [At the same time.] Hemming and Alfhild! The mountain girl!

[Laughter and whispering.]

OLAF. Alfhild! You will marry her off to—No, no, it shall not be! Never, never!

LADY KIRSTEN. Be still!—Olaf, my son; be still, I beg you!

ARNE. [To himself.] What's this! Yes, truly, then Hemming was right; there is something between Olaf and Alfhild.

ARNE. [Whispering.] Aye, Lady Kirsten! I see your scheme. Now I know why Olaf wandered three days in the mountain, and now you intend to make use of Hemming to be rid of her. Ha, ha!

LADY KIRSTEN. [With forced composure.] Lord Arne! how can you believe such a thing?

ARNE. [In a low tone.] O, I see clearly! Now I should think I had very good reason to break the agreement.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and frightened.] Break the agreement! I beg of you! Will you put us all to shame?

[They talk together softly.]

HEMMING. [To INGEBORG, with whom he has in the meantime been whispering.] That is all there is to it, I swear. Lady Kirsten and I have not understood each other.

INGEBORG. Well, then decline! You shall! I command you.

HEMMING. No, no! I dare not; she will then see that it was you I was thinking of.

INGEBORG. Good; then I shall.

INGEBORG. [Aloud.] Hemming shall not go to the altar with Alfhild;—he is too good to marry another man's darling!

OLAF. [With a cry.] For shame!

THE GUESTS. Darling!

ARNE. [To INGEBORG.] What are you saying?

LADY KIRSTEN. Heaven protect us!

OLAF. Cursed be my soul! She is put to shame!

INGEBORG. Yes, loudly I proclaim it: she is another man's darling. Let him gainsay it who dares.

ARNE. Ingeborg!

ARNE. [Aside.] What is the matter with her?

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly.] So that's the way it is! She then,—she it is who cares for Hemming!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and clearly, to ARNE.] Do you now intend to break the agreement? You can now see for yourself from your daughter's conduct what reason I had to get Hemming married!

ARNE. [Disconcerted.] My daughter! Could you imagine that she—

LADY KIRSTEN. You need not pretend! Ingeborg has a fancy for your house-carl; now I should think I had good reason to break our agreement.

ARNE. Break, break—! What are you thinking of! To bring on me such disgrace!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Mocking.] Yes,—otherwise you would do it!

ARNE. [Quickly.] No, no, I have reconsidered; it is best we both keep still!

LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] See, now have I won! I know Olaf; a woman so scorned will never tempt him!







SCENE X

[The Preceding. ALFHILD comes unnoticed out of the storehouse in glittering bridal dress with a crown on her head and her hair flowing.]

ARNE. [Aside.] This has been a cursed day for me! O, he is a cunning dog, this Hemming! He knew that Ingeborg had a fancy for him; it was therefore so galling to him that Olaf should have her.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Who has in the meantime regained her composure.] And now to the festive hall! Hemming we can think of later.—Olaf, take your bride by the hand!

ARNE. [Reluctantly, as he sees INGEBORG whisper to HEMMING.] Where is the bride? Come, come!

ALFHILD AND INGEBORG. [At the same time, as they each seize one of OLAF's hands.] Here I am!

THE GUESTS. How,—she takes Olaf?

[General amazement.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] So far has he gone, then!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud, to ALFHILD.] You are mistaken! That is not your bridegroom!

ALFHILD. Why, certainly, it is Olaf!

INGEBORG. [Lets go his hand.] If then he has promised her—!

LADY KIRSTEN. [In great agitation.] Olaf is not your bridegroom, I say! Tell her it yourself, my son!

[OLAF is silent. LADY KIRSTEN's Kinsmen look at each other embarrassed. ARNE's Relatives draw nearer, angry and threatening.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [With raised voice.] Olaf Liljekrans! Answer loudly and clearly! You owe it to yourself and to us.

OLAF. [In despair, struggling with himself.] Let it be as you wish then, mother! Yes, by all the saints! I shall answer. Alfhild! you are mistaken! I am not your bridegroom.

OLAF. [Pointing to INGEBORG.] There—there stands my bride!

ALFHILD. [Withdraws a step or two dumfounded and stares at him.] She—your—

OLAF. [With rising irritation.] Alfhild! go hence! Go, go, far into the mountain again; 'twill be best for you. I was sick and bewildered in mind when I wandered up there! What I have told you I little remember! I do not know and I do not want to know! Do you hear,—I do not want to!—The golden crown you can keep! Keep all, both the silver and gold, that you there stand dressed in. More,—yea, tenfold more you shall have.—Well! why do you stare at me so?

[ALFHILD takes off the crown and the other adornments and places them at OLAF's feet as she continues uninterruptedly to stare at him.]

OLAF. Perhaps I pretended to you that you were to be my bride tonight, perhaps you believed me! Perhaps you thought that Olaf Liljekrans would marry a—a—what was it you called her?

OLAF. [Stamps with his foot.] Do not stare at me so, I say! I know you well enough; you have bewitched me. I forgot my family; I forgot my bride, my betrothed, she who stands there.

OLAF. [Seizes ALFHILD violently by the arm.] Look at her, Alfhild! Aha, it is she that I love!

[ALFHILD sinks down on her knees and covers her face with her hands.]

OLAF. Rise, Alfhild! rise, I say! If you dare to grieve in this way, I shall kill you!—Why are you not happy? Be merry and wild as I am!—And the rest of you! Why do you stand so silently, looking at one another? Laugh,—laugh loudly, so that it may echo around!—Alfhild! Why don't you answer? Have I not told you enough! Aha! Then add, you others, a word to what I have said! Come, say something, you too; Lady Kirsten would like it! Laugh at her, mock her, trample her under your feet!

OLAF. [With ringing laughter.] Ha, ha, ha! She is Olaf's darling!

[ALFHILD sinks down to the ground in such a way that she rests prostrate against the stone bench at the left. A flash of lightning illuminates the scene and the thunder rolls; during the following to the close of the act the darkness and the storm increase.]

OLAF. See, see! That I like; now do the powers above join in! Right now will I ride to the church with my bride! Come, Mistress Ingeborg! But first will we drink,—yes, drink, drink! Bring here the beaker and horn,—not in there—! Light the candles in the church! Let the organ resound; prepare for a dance—not mournful psalms—fie, fie, no, a dance!

[Thunder and lightning.]

OLAF. Ah, it is rumored in heaven that Olaf Liljekrans is celebrating his wedding!

[Rushes out to the right.]

ARNE. Christ save me! his reason is gone!

LADY KIRSTEN. Ah, have no fear; it will soon pass,—I know him.

[Draws ARNE aside with her.]

ARNE. [Gently threatening HEMMING in passing.] O, Hemming, Hemming! You are a sly dog!

[The GUESTS go quietly and gloomily out to the right; the SERVANTS to the left.]

INGEBORG. [Detains HEMMING.] Hemming! I will not go to church with Olaf Liljekrans!

HEMMING. Alas, what will prevent it?

INGEBORG. If it comes to that, I shall say no,—no before the very altar itself, in the presence of all!

HEMMING. Ingeborg!

INGEBORG. Hold my horse saddled and ready!

HEMMING. What! You will—!

INGEBORG. I will! Now I know for the first time how dear you are to me,—now when I stand in danger of losing you. Go,—do as I say, and let me know when it is time.

[She goes out to the right.]

HEMMING. Yes, now am I strong; now I dare venture whatever it be!

[He goes out to the left.]