Early Plays - Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans Part 39

HEMMING. O nothing!--

[A pause.]

HEMMING. Can you remember,--we have been up here once before?

INGEBORG. [Curtly.] I don't remember!

HEMMING. You had run after your spotted goat, and I followed you, as was always my custom,--yes, that was a long time ago, but I remember it as if it happened today; right down there lies the swamp, which--

INGEBORG. [Comes nearer.] Was it the time we heard the bear?

HEMMING. Yes, the very time.

INGEBORG. [Constantly becoming more animated.] I found the goat again.

HEMMING. No, it was I who first discovered it.

INGEBORG. Yes, yes, you are right; up there on the slope--

HEMMING. And then you took your garter.

INGEBORG. And bound it.

HEMMING. Yes, for we had come to pick strawberries.

INGEBORG. Over there on the hill, yes! And you had made me a birch-bark scrip.

HEMMING. But then it was we heard--

INGEBORG. The bear, ha, ha, ha! We had to cross the swamp just where it was the wettest,--

HEMMING. And then I took you in my arms.

INGEBORG. And jumped with me from tuft to tuft.

INGEBORG. [Laughing.] How frightened we were, the two of us!

HEMMING. Of course I was most frightened for your sake.

INGEBORG. And I for yours--

[Stops suddenly and as she continues to look at him her face a.s.sumes an imperious and wounded expression.]

INGEBORG. What is it you stand here and say? Why don't you go?

Is it fitting to speak thus to your master's daughter? Go, go; you were to find my betrothed!

HEMMING. Alas, I forgot your betrothed; I forgot that you are my master's daughter.

INGEBORG. If you find him, I promise you an embroidered jacket for Christmas,--so pleased shall I be.

HEMMING. I don't want any jacket; I serve you neither for gold nor silver, neither for keep nor for knightly dress. But now I am off; what lies in my power I shall do, if I know it pleases you.

INGEBORG. [Who has climbed up on a stone and is picking some blossoming cherry twigs.] Hemming! how rich is my betrothed?

HEMMING. How rich he is I really can't say; but it is said of his grandsire in the song: With golden attire he can provide A hundred maids or more for his bride!

So mighty perhaps is not Olaf Liljekrans, but still he owns both forest and field.

INGEBORG. [Still occupied.] And you, what do you possess?

HEMMING. [Sighing.] My poverty--is all I have.

INGEBORG. That isn't very much, Hemming!

HEMMING. No, it isn't very much, Mistress Ingeborg!

INGEBORG. [Hums, turned away from him, without changing her position, and still occupied as before.]

'Tis little my heart is attracted indeed To him who has all the wealth he may need!

Much more I fancy the humble swain, The friend of my heart he will ever remain!

HEMMING. [In the greatest joy.] Ingeborg! O, if what you say is true, I must tenfold bless my poverty.

INGEBORG. [Turns her head and speaks coldly.] I don't understand you; the song was only an ancient ballad.

[Comes down from the rock with the cherry twigs in her hand, and approaches him as she looks at him fixedly.]

INGEBORG. But I know another song too, and that I will sing for you: The king's court within stand the steeds so fair; The suitor who lacks not the courage to dare,-- He shoes the yellow, he shoes the gray, The swiftest he saddles before it is day!

He places his bride on the steed behind, She follows him safe, she follows him blind.

He rides with her off, to the sea they hie, With him she would willingly live and die!

HEMMING. [As though beside himself.] Ingeborg! Ingeborg! then nothing shall henceforth terrify me! Not that you have a betrothed, not that you are my master's daughter;--yea, as sure as I live, I shall steal you tonight!

INGEBORG. [Vehemently, as she constantly struggles to suppress a smile.] Help me, G.o.d! what is amiss with you? What is it you are thinking of? Will you steal your master's daughter? You must be sick or mad to conceive such a thing! Yet, it shall be forgotten--for this once. Go, now! and thank heaven you escape so lightly; for you have certainly earned a blow--

INGEBORG. [Raises the twigs, but lets them fall, and says in a changed tone.] --and my red golden ring--see there, take it!

[Throws him a ring, which she has removed from her arm, and rushes out quickly to the left.]

SCENE VIII

[HEMMING. Shortly afterwards OLAF Liljekrans from the, background. The moon rises.]

HEMMING. The golden ring unto me she has granted, Then still is she true, I am not deceived!

'Twas only in jest that she scolded and ranted As though she were bitterly grieved.

All will I venture, no more will I dread!