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FALK.
No, I only brood,--
SVANHILD [with thoughtful sympathy].
You seem to be two natures, still at feud,-- Unreconciled--
FALK.
I know it well.
SVANHILD [impetuously].
But why?
FALK [losing self-control].
Why, why? Because I hate to go about With soul bared boldly to the vulgar eye, As Jock and Jennie hang their pa.s.sions out; To wear my glowing heart upon my sleeve, Like women in low dresses. You, alone, Svanhild, you only,--you, I did believe,-- Well, it is past, that dream, for ever flown.--
[She goes to the summer-house and looks out; he follows.
You listen--?
SVANHILD.
To another voice, that sings.
Hark! every evening when the sun's at rest, A little bird floats. .h.i.ther on beating wings,-- See there--it darted from its leafy nest-- And, do you know, it is my faith, as oft As G.o.d makes any songless soul, He sends A little bird to be her friend of friends, And sing for ever in her garden-croft.
FALK [picking up a stone].
Then must the owner and the bird be near, Or its song's squandered on a stranger's ear.
SVANHILD.
Yes, that is true; but I've discovered mine.
Of speech and song I am denied the power, But when it warbles in its leafy bower, Poems flow in upon my brain like wine-- Ah, yes,--they fleet--they are not to be won--
[FALK throws the stone. SVANHILD screams.
O G.o.d, you've hit it! Ah, what have you done!
[She hurries out to the the right and then quickly returns.
O pity! pity!
FALK [in pa.s.sionate agitation].
No,--but eye for eye, Svanhild, and tooth for tooth. Now you'll attend No further greetings from your garden-friend, No guerdon from the land of melody.
That is my vengeance: as you slew I slay.
SVANHILD.
I slew?
FALK.
You slew. Until this very day, A clear-voiced song-bird warbled in my soul; See,--now one pa.s.sing bell for both may toll-- You've killed it!
SVANHILD.
Have I?
FALK.
Yes, for you have slain My young, high-hearted, joyous exultation-- [Contemptuously.
By your betrothal!
SVANHILD.
How! But pray explain--!
FALK.
O, it's in full accord with expectation; He gets his licence, enters orders, speeds to A post,--as missionary in the West--
SVANHILD [in the same tone].
A pretty penny, also, he succeeds to;-- For it is Lind you speak of--?
FALK.
You know best Of whom I speak.
SVANHILD [with a subdued smile].
As the bride's sister, true, I cannot help--
FALK.
Great G.o.d! It is not you--?
SVANHILD.
Who win this overplus of bliss? Ah no!
FALK [with almost childish joy].
It is not you! O G.o.d be glorified!
What love, what mercy does He not bestow!
I shall not see you as another's bride;-- 'Twas but the fire of pain He bade me bear-- [Tries to seize her hand.
O hear me, Svanhild, hear me then--
SVANHILD [pointing quickly to the background].
See there!
[She goes towards the house. At the same moment MRS. HALM, ANNA, MISS JAY, GULDSTAD, STIVER, and LIND emerge from the background. During the previous scene the sun has set; it is now dark.
MRS. HALM [to SVANHILD].
The Strawmans may be momently expected.
Where have you been?
MISS JAY [after glancing at FALK].
Your colour's very high.
SVANHILD.
A little face-ache; it will soon pa.s.s by.
MRS. HALM.
And yet you walk at nightfall unprotected?
