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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 una.s.sailable 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 happy bridegroom and a bride Demands not love alone, but much beside, Relations 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 la.s.s, They make a home and, drunk with exultation, Dwell for awhile within its walls of gla.s.s.
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 pa.s.sion in her breast, Bankrupt the husband's battle-ardour now, Bankrupt each spark of pa.s.sion he possessed.
Bankrupt the whole estate, below, above,-- And yet this broken pair were once confessed A first-cla.s.s 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?
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 pa.s.sion 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!