Now his head’s grinning aloft on a stake.
ALL THREE.
Trond of the Valfjeld! Bård and Kårë!
Troll-pack! To-night would you sleep in our arms!
PEER.
[_Stands, with a sudden leap, in the midst of them._]
I’m a three-headed troll, and the boy for three girls!
THE GIRLS.
Are you such a lad, eh?
PEER.
You shall judge for yourselves!
FIRST GIRL.
To the hut! To the hut!
SECOND GIRL.
We have mead!
PEER.
Let it flow!
THIRD GIRL.
No cot shall stand empty this Saturday night!
SECOND GIRL.
[_Kissing him._]
He sparkles and glisters like white-heated iron.
THIRD GIRL.
[_Doing likewise._]
Like a baby’s eyes from the blackest tarn.
PEER.
[_Dancing in the midst of them._]
Heavy of heart and wanton of mind.
The eyes full of laughter, the throat of tears!
THE GIRLS.
[_Making mocking gestures towards the mountain-tops,
screaming and singing._]
Trond of the Valfjeld! Bård and Kårë!
Troll-pack!—To-night who shall sleep in our arms?
[_They dance away over the heights, with PEER GYNT in
their midst._
SCENE FOURTH.
_Among the Rondë mountains. Sunset. Shining snow-peaks all
around._
_PEER GYNT enters, dizzy and bewildered._
PEER.
Tower over tower arises!
Hei, what a glittering gate!
Stand! Will you stand! It’s drifting
Further and further away!
High on the vane the wind-cock
Arches his wings for flight;—
Blue spread the rifts and bluer,
Locked is the fell and barred.—
What are those trunks and tree-roots,
That grow from the ridge’s clefts?
They are warriors heron-footed!
Now they, too, are fading away.
A shimmering like rainbow-streamers
Goes shooting through eyes and brain.
What is it, that far-off chiming?
What’s weighing my eyebrows down?
Hu, how my forehead’s throbbing—
A tightening red-hot ring——!
I cannot think who the devil
as bound it around my head!
[_Sinks down._
Flight o’er the Edge of Gendin—
Stuff and accursed lies!
Up o’er the steepest hill-wall
With the bride,—and a whole day drunk;
Hunted by hawks and falcons,
Threatened by trolls and such,
Sporting with crazy wenches:—
and accursed stuff!
[_Gazes long upwards._
Yonder sail two brown eagles.
Southward the wild geese fly.
And here I must splash and stumble
In quagmire and filth knee-deep!
[_Springs up._
I’ll fly too! I will wash myself clean in
The bath of the keenest winds!
I’ll fly high! I will plunge myself fair in
The glorious christening-font!
I will soar far over the sæter;
I will ride myself pure of soul;
I will forth o’er the salt sea waters,
And high over Engelland’s prince!
Ay, gaze as ye may, young maidens;
My ride is for none of you;
You’re wasting your time in waiting—!
Yet maybe I’ll swoop down, too.—
What has come of the two brown eagles—?
They’ve vanished, the devil knows where!—
There’s the peak of a gable rising;
It’s soaring on every hand;
It’s growing from out the ruins;—
See, the gateway is standing wide!
Ha-ha, yonder house, I know it;
It’s grandfather’s new-built farm!
Gone are the clouts from the windows;
The crazy old fence is gone.
The lights gleam from every casement;
There’s a feast in the hall to-night.
There, that was the provost clinking
The back of his knife on his glass;—
There’s the captain flinging his bottle,
And shivering the mirror to bits.—
Let them waste; let it all be squandered!
Peace, mother; what need we care!
’Tis the rich Jon Gynt gives the banquet;
Hurrah for the race of Gynt!
What’s all this bustle and hubbub?
Why do they shout and bawl?
The captain is calling the son in;—
Oh, the provost would drink my health.
In then, Peer Gynt, to the judgment;
It rings forth in song and shout:
Peer Gynt, thou art come of great things,
And great things shall come of thee!
[_Leaps forward, but runs his head against a rock,
falls, and remains stretched on the ground._
SCENE FIFTH.
_A hillside, wooded with great soughing trees. Stars are
gleaming through the leaves; birds are singing in the
tree-tops._
_A GREEN-CLAD WOMAN is crossing the hillside; PEER GYNT follows
her, with all sorts of lover-like antics._
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[_Stops and turns round._]
Is it true?
PEER.
[_Drawing his finger across his throat._]
As true as my name is Peer;—
As true as that you are a lovely woman!
Will you have me? You’ll see what a fine man I’ll be;
You shall neither tread the loom nor turn the spindle.
You shall eat all you want, till you’re ready to burst.
I never will drag you about by the hair——
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Nor beat me!
PEER.
No, can you think I would!
We kings’ sons never beat women and such.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
You’re a king’s son?
PEER.
Yes.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
I’m the Dovrë-King’s daughter.
PEER.
Are you! See there, now, how well that fits in!
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Deep in the Rondë has father his palace.
PEER.
My mother’s is bigger, or much I’m mistaken.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Do you know my father? His name is King Brosë.[50]
PEER.
Do you know my mother? Her name is Queen Åsë.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
When my father is angry the mountains are riven.
PEER.
They reel when my mother by chance falls a-scolding.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
My father can kick e’en the loftiest roof-tree.[51]
PEER.
My mother can ride through the rapidest river.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Have you other garments besides those rags?
PEER.
Ho, you should just see my Sunday clothes!
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
My week-day gown is of gold and silk.
PEER.
It looks to me liker tow and straws.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Ay, there is one thing you must remember:—
This is the Rondë-folk’s use and wont:
All our possessions have two-fold form.
When shall you come to my father’s hall,
It well may chance that you’re on the point
Of thinking you stand in a dismal moraine.
PEER.
Well now, with us it’s precisely the same.
Our gold will seem to you litter and trash!
And you’ll think, mayhap, every glittering pane
Is nought but a bunch of old stockings and clouts.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Black it seems white, and ugly seems fair.
PEER.
Big it seems little, and dirty seems clean.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[_Falling on his neck._]
Ay, Peer, now I see that we fit, you and I!
PEER.
Like the leg and the trouser, the hair and the comb.
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[_Calls away over the hillside._]
Bridal-steed! Bridal-steed! Come, bridal-steed mine!
[_A gigantic pig comes running in with a rope’s end for
a bridle and an old sack for a saddle. PEER GYNT
vaults on its back, and seats the GREEN-CLAD ONE in
front of him._
PEER.
Hark-away! Through the Rondë-gate gallop we in!
Gee-up, gee-up, my courser fine!
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[_Tenderly._]
Ah, but lately I wandered and moped and pined—
One never can tell what may happen to one!
PEER.
[_Thrashing the pig and trotting off._]
You may know the great by their riding gear!
SCENE SIXTH.
_The Royal Hall of the King of the Dovrë-Trolls. A great
assembly of TROLL-COURTIERS, GNOMES, and BROWNIES. THE OLD
MAN OF THE DOVRË sits on the throne, crowned, and with his
sceptre in his hand. His CHILDREN and NEAREST RELATIONS
are ranged on both sides. PEER GYNT stands before him.
Violent commotion in the hall._
THE TROLL-COURTIERS.
Slay him! a Christian-man’s son has deluded
The Dovrë-King’s loveliest maid!
A TROLL-IMP.
May I hack him on the fingers?
ANOTHER.
May I tug him by the hair?
A TROLL-MAIDEN.
Hu, hei, let me bite him in the haunches!
A TROLL-WITCH.
[_With a ladle._]
Shall he be boiled into broth and bree?
ANOTHER TROLL-WITCH.
[_With a chopper._]
Shall he roast on a spit or be browned in a stewpan?
THE OLD MAN OF THE DOVRË.
Ice to your blood, friends!
[_Beckons his counsellors closer around him._
Don’t let us talk big.
We’ve been drifting astern in these latter years;
We can’t tell what’s going to stand or to fall,
And there’s no sense in turning recruits away.
Besides the lad’s body has scarce a blemish,
And he’s strongly-built too, if I see aright.
It’s true, he has only a single head;
But my daughter, too, has no more than one.
Three-headed trolls are gone clean out of fashion;
One hardly sees even a two-header now,
And even those heads are but so-so ones.
[_To PEER GYNT._]
It’s my daughter, then, you demand of me?
PEER.
Your daughter and the realm to her dowry, yes.
THE OLD MAN.
You shall have the half while I’m still alive,
And the other half when I come to die.
PEER.
I’m content with that.
THE OLD MAN.
Ay, but stop, my lad;—
You also have some undertakings to give.
If you break even one, the whole pact’s at an end,
And you’ll never get away from here living.
First of all you must swear that you’ll never give heed
To aught that lies outside the Rondë-hills’ bounds;
Day you must shun, and deeds, and each sunlit spot.
PEER.
Only call me king, and that’s easy to keep.
THE OLD MAN.
And next—now for putting your wits to the test.
[_Draws himself up in his seat._
THE OLDEST TROLL-COURTIER.
[_To PEER GYNT._]
Let us see if you have a wisdom-tooth
That can crack the Dovrë-King’s riddle-nut!
THE OLD MAN.
What difference is there ’twixt trolls and men?
PEER.
No difference at all, as it seems to me.
Big trolls would roast you and small trolls would claw you;—
With us it were likewise, if only they dared.
THE OLD MAN.
True enough; in that and in more we’re alike.
Yet morning is morning, and even is even,
And there is a difference all the same.—
Now let me tell you wherein it lies:
Out yonder, under the shining vault,
Among men the saying goes: “Man, be thyself!”
At home here with us, ’mid the tribe of the trolls,
The saying goes: “Troll, to thyself be—enough!”
THE TROLL-COURTIER.
[_To PEER GYNT._]
Can you fathom the depth?
PEER.
It strikes me as misty.
THE OLD MAN.
My son, that “Enough,” that most potent and sundering
Word, must be graven upon your escutcheon.
PEER.
[_Scratching his head._]
Well, but——
THE OLD MAN.
It _must_, if you here would be master!
PEER.
Oh well, let it pass; after all, it’s no worse——
THE OLD MAN.
And next you must learn to appreciate
Our homely, everyday way of life.
[_He beckons; two TROLLS with pigs’-heads, white
night-caps, and so forth, bring in food and drink._
The cow gives cakes and the bullock mead;
Ask not if its taste be sour or sweet;
The main matter is, and you mustn’t forget it,
It’s all of it home-brewed.
PEER.
[_Pushing the things away from him._]
The devil fly off with your home-brewed drinks!
I’ll never get used to the ways of this land.
THE OLD MAN.
The bowl’s given in, and it’s fashioned of gold.
Whoso own the gold bowl, him my daughter holds dear.
PEER.
[_Pondering._]
It is written: Thou shalt bridle the natural man;—
And I daresay the drink may in time seem less sour.
So be it!
[_Complies._
THE OLD MAN.
Ay, that was sagaciously said.
You spit?
PEER.
One must trust to the force of habit.
THE OLD MAN.
And next you must throw off your Christian-man’s garb;
For this you must know to our Dovrë’s renown:
Here all things are mountain-made, nought’s from the dale,
Except the silk bow at the end of your tail.
PEER.
[_Indignant._]
I haven’t a tail!
THE OLD MAN.
Then of course you must get one.
See my Sunday-tail, Chamberlain, fastened to him.
PEER.
I’ll be hanged if you do! Would you make me a fool?
THE OLD MAN.
None comes courting my child with no tail at his rear.
PEER.
Make a beast of a man!
THE OLD MAN.
Nay, my son, you mistake;
I make you a mannerly wooer, no more.
A bright orange bow we’ll allow you to wear,
And that passes here for the highest of honours.
PEER.
[_Reflectively._]
It’s true, as the saying goes: Man’s but a mote.
And it’s wisest to follow the fashion a bit.
Tie away!
THE OLD MAN.
You’re a tractable fellow, I see.
THE COURTIER.
Just try with what grace you can waggle and whisk it!
PEER.
[_Peevishly._]
Ha, would you force me to go still further?
Do you ask me to give up my Christian faith?
THE OLD MAN.
No, that you are welcome to keep in peace.
Doctrine goes free; upon that there’s no duty;
It’s the outward cut one must tell a troll by.
If we’re only at one in our manners and dress,
You may hold as your faith what to us is a horror.
PEER.
Why, in spite of your many conditions, you are
A more reasonable chap than one might have expected.
THE OLD MAN.
We troll-folk, my son, are less black than we’re painted;[52]
That’s another distinction between you and us.—
But the serious part of the meeting is over;
Now let us gladden our ears and our eyes.
Music-maid, forth! Set the Dovrë-harp sounding!
Dancing-maid, forth! Tread the Dovrë-hall’s floor!
[_Music and a dance._
THE COURTIER.
How like you it?
PEER.
Like it? H’m——
THE OLD MAN.
Speak without fear!
What see you?
PEER.
Why something unspeakably grim:[53]
A bell-cow with her hoof on a gut-harp strumming.
A sow in socklets a-trip to the tune.
THE COURTIERS.
Eat him!
THE OLD MAN.
His sense is but human, remember!
TROLL-MAIDENS.
Hu, tear away both his ears and his eyes!
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[_Weeping._]
Hu-hu! And this we must hear and put up with,
When I and my sister make music and dance.
PEER.
Oho, was it you? Well, a joke at the feast,
You must know, is never unkindly meant.
THE GREEN CLAD ONE.
Can you swear it was so?
PEER.
Both the dance and the music
Were utterly charming, the cat claw me else.
THE OLD MAN.
This same human nature’s a singular thing;
It sticks to people so strangely long.
If it gets a gash in the fight with us,
It heals up at once, though a scar may remain.
My son-in-law, now, is as pliant as any;
He’s willingly thrown off his Christian-man’s garb,
He’s willingly drunk from our chalice of mead,
He’s willingly fastened the tail to his back,—
So willing, in short, did we find him in all things,
I thought to myself the old Adam, for certain,
Had for good and all been kicked out of doors;
But lo! in two shakes he’s atop again!
Ay ay, my son, we must treat you, I see,
To cure this pestilent human nature.
PEER.
What will you do?
THE OLD MAN.
In your left eye, first,
I’ll scratch you a bit, till you see awry;
But all that you see will seem fine and brave.
And then I’ll just cut your right window-pane out——
PEER.
Are you drunk?
THE OLD MAN.
[_Lays a number of sharp instruments on the table._]
See, here are the glazier’s tools.
Blinkers you’ll wear, like a raging bull.
Then you’ll recognise that your bride is lovely,—
And ne’er will your vision be troubled, as now,
With bell-cows harping and sows that dance.
PEER.
This is madman’s talk!
THE OLDEST COURTIER.
It’s the Dovrë-King speaking;
’Tis he that is wise, and ’tis you that are crazy!
THE OLD MAN.
Just think how much worry and mortification
You’ll thus escape from, year out, year in.
You must remember, your eyes are the fountain
Of the bitter and searing lye of tears.
PEER.
That’s true; and it says in our sermon-book:
If thine eye offend thee, then pluck it out.
But tell me, when will my sight heal up
Into human sight?
THE OLD MAN.
Nevermore, my friend.
PEER.
Indeed! In that case, I’ll take my leave.
THE OLD MAN.
What would you without?
PEER.
I would go my way.
THE OLD MAN.
No, stop! It’s easy to slip in here,
But outward the Dovrë-King’s gate opens not.
PEER.
You wouldn’t detain me by force, I hope?
THE OLD MAN.
Come now, just listen to reason, Prince Peer!
You have gifts for trolldom. He acts—does he not?—
Even now in a passably troll-like fashion?
And you’d fain be a troll?
PEER.
Yes, I would, sure enough.
For a bride, and a well-managed kingdom to boot,
I can put up with losing a good many things.
But there is a limit to all things on earth.
The tail I’ve accepted, it’s perfectly true;
But no doubt I can loose what the Chamberlain tied.
My breeches I’ve dropped; they were old and patched;
But no doubt I can button them on again.
And lightly enough I can slip my cable
From these your Dovrëfied ways of life.
I am willing to swear that a cow is a maid;
An oath one can always eat up again;—
But to know that one never can free oneself,
That one can’t even die like a decent soul;
To live as a hill-troll for all one’s days—
To feel that one never can beat a retreat,—
As the book has it, that’s what your heart is set on;
But that is a thing I can never agree to.
THE OLD MAN.
Now, sure as I live, I shall soon lose my temper;
And then I am not to be trifled with.
You pasty-faced loon! Do you know who I am?
First with my daughter you make too free——
PEER.
There you lie in your throat!
THE OLD MAN.
You must marry her.
PEER.
Do you dare to accuse me——?
THE OLD MAN.
What? Can you deny
That you lusted for her in heart and eye?
PEER.
[_With a snort of contempt._]
No more? Who the deuce cares a straw for that?
THE OLD MAN.
It’s ever the same with this humankind.
The spirit you’re ready to own with your lips,
But in fact nothing counts that your fists cannot handle.
So you really think, then, that lust matters nought?
Wait; you shall soon have ocular proof of it——
PEER.
You don’t catch me with a bait of lies!
THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
My Peer, ere the year’s out, your child will be born.
PEER.
Open doors! let me go!
THE OLD MAN.
In a he-goat’s skin.
You shall have the brat after you.
PEER.
[_Mopping the sweat off his brow._]
Would I could waken!
THE OLD MAN.
Shall we send him to the palace?
PEER.
You can send him to the parish!
THE OLD MAN.
Well well, Prince Peer; that’s your own look-out.
But one thing’s certain, what’s done is done;
And your offspring, too, will be sure to grow;
Such mongrels shoot up amazingly fast——
PEER.
Old man, don’t act like a headstrong ox!
Hear reason, maiden! Let’s come to terms.
You must know I’m neither a prince nor rich;—
And whether you measure or whether you weigh me,
Be sure you won’t gain much by making me yours.
[_THE GREEN-CLAD ONE is taken ill, and is carried out by
TROLL-MAIDS._
THE OLD MAN.
[_Looks at him for a while in high disdain; then says_:]
Dash him to shards on the rock-walls, children!
THE TROLL-IMPS.
Oh dad, mayn’t we play owl-and-eagle first!
The wolf-game! Grey-mouse and glow-eyed cat!
THE OLD MAN.
Yes, but quick. I am worried and sleepy. Goodnight!
[_He goes._
PEER.
[_Hunted by the TROLL-IMPS._]
Let me be, devil’s imps!
[_Tries to escape up the chimney._
THE IMPS.
Come brownies! Come nixies!
Bite him behind!
PEER.
Ow!
[_Tries to slip down the cellar trap-door._
THE IMPS.
Shut up all the crannies!
THE TROLL-COURTIER.
Now the small-fry are happy!
PEER.
[_Struggling with a little IMP that has bit himself
fast to his ear._]
Let go will you, beast!
THE COURTIER.
[_Hitting him across the fingers._]
Gently, you scamp, with a scion of royalty!
PEER.
A rat-hole——!
[_Runs to it._
THE IMPS.
Be quick, Brother Nixie, and block it!
PEER.
The old one was bad, but the youngsters are worse!
THE IMPS.
Slash him!
PEER.
Oh, would I were small as a mouse!
[_Rushing around._
THE IMPS.
[_Swarming round him._]
Close the ring! Close the ring!
PEER.
[_Weeping._]
Were I only a louse!
[_He falls._
THE IMPS.
Now into his eyes!
PEER.
[_Buried in a heap of IMPS._]
Mother, help me, I die!
[_Church bells sound far away._
THE IMPS.
Bells in the mountain! The Black-Frock’s cows!
[_THE TROLLS take to flight, amid a confused uproar of
yells and shrieks. The palace collapses; everything
disappears._
SCENE SEVENTH.
_Pitch darkness._
_PEER GYNT is heard beating and slashing about him with a large
bough._
PEER.
Answer! Who are you?
A VOICE IN THE DARKNESS.
Myself.
PEER.
Clear the way!
THE VOICE.
Go roundabout, Peer! The hill’s roomy enough.
PEER.
[_Tries to force a passage at another place, but strikes
against something._]
Who are _you_?
THE VOICE.
Myself. Can you say the same?
PEER.
I can say what I will; and my sword can smite!
Mind yourself! Hu, hei, now the blow falls crushing!
King Saul slew hundreds; Peer Gynt slew thousands!
[_Cutting and slashing._
Who _are_ you?
THE VOICE.
Myself.
PEER.
That stupid reply
You may spare; it doesn’t clear up the matter.
_What_ are you?
THE VOICE.
The great Boyg.[54]
PEER.
Ah, indeed!
The riddle was black; now I’d call it grey.
Clear the way then, Boyg!
THE VOICE.
Go roundabout, Peer!
PEER.
No, through!
[_Cuts and slashes._
There he fell!
[_Tries to advance, but strikes against something._
Ho ho, are there more here?
THE VOICE.
The Boyg, Peer Gynt! the one only one.
It’s the Boyg that’s unwounded, and the Boyg that was hurt,
It’s the Boyg that is dead, and the Boyg that’s alive.
PEER.
[_Throws away the branch._]
The weapon is troll-smeared;[55] but I have my fists!
[_Fights his way forward._
THE VOICE.
Ay, trust to your fists, lad, trust to your body.
Hee-hee, Peer Gynt, so you’ll reach the summit.
PEER.
[_Falling back again._]
Forward or back, and it’s just as far;—
Out or in, and it’s just as strait![56]
He is _there_! And _there_! And he’s round the bend!
No sooner I’m out than I’m back in the ring.—
Name who you are! Let me see you! What are you?
THE VOICE.
The Boyg.
PEER.
[_Groping around._]
Not dead, not living; all slimy; misty.
Not so much as a shape! It’s as bad as to battle
In a cluster of snarling, half-wakened bears!
[_Screams._
Strike back at me, can’t you!
THE VOICE.
The Boyg isn’t mad.
PEER.
Strike!
THE VOICE.
The Boyg strikes not.
PEER.
Fight! You shall!
THE VOICE.
The great Boyg conquers, but does not fight.
PEER.
Were there only a nixie here that could prick me!
Were there only as much as a year-old troll!
Only something to fight with. But here there is nothing.—
Now he’s snoring! Boyg!
THE VOICE.
What’s your will?
PEER.
Use force!
THE VOICE.
The great Boyg conquers in all things without it.[57]
PEER.
[_Biting his own arms and hands._]
Claws and ravening teeth in my flesh!
I must feel the drip of my own warm blood.
[_A sound is heard like the wing-strokes of great
birds._
BIRD-CRIES.
Comes he now, Boyg?
THE VOICE.
Ay, step by step.
BIRD-CRIES.
All our sisters far off! Gather here to the tryst!
PEER.
If you’d save me now, lass, you must do it quick!
Gaze not adown so, lowly and bending.—
Your clasp-book! Hurl it straight into his eyes!
BIRD-CRIES.
He totters!
THE VOICE.
We have him.
BIRD-CRIES.
Sisters! Make haste!
PEER.
Too dear the purchase one pays for life
In such a heart-wasting hour of strife.
[_Sinks down._
BIRD-CRIES.
Boyg, there he’s fallen! Seize him! Seize him!
[_A sound of bells and of psalm-singing is heard far
away._
THE BOYG.
[_Shrinks up to nothing, and says in a gasp_:]
He was too strong. There were women behind him.
SCENE EIGHTH.
_Sunrise. The mountain-side in front of ÅSE’S sæter. The door is
shut; all is silent and deserted._
_PEER GYNT is lying asleep by the wall of the sæter._
PEER.
[_Wakens, and looks about him with dull and heavy
eyes. He spits._]
What wouldn’t I give for a pickled herring!
[_Spits again, and at the same moment catches sight of
HELGA, who appears carrying a basket of food._
Ha, child, are you there? What is it you want?
HELGA.
It is Solveig——
PEER.
[_Jumping up._]
Where is _she_?
HELGA.
Behind the sæter.
SOLVEIG.
[_Unseen._]
If you come nearer, I’ll run away!
PEER.
[_Stopping short._]
Perhaps you’re afraid I might take you in my arms?
SOLVEIG.
For shame!
PEER.
Do you know where I was last night?—
Like a horse-fly the Dovrë-King’s daughter is after me.
SOLVEIG.
Then it was well that the bells were set ringing.
PEER.
Peer Gynt’s not the lad they can lure astray.—
What do you say?
HELGA.
[_Crying._]
Oh, she’s running away!
[_Running after her._
Wait!
PEER.
[_Catches her by the arm._]
Look here, what I have in my pocket!
A silver button, child! You shall have it,—
Only speak for me!
HELGA.
Let me be; let me go!
PEER.
There you have it.
HELGA.
Let go; there’s the basket of food.
PEER.
God pity you if you don’t——
HELGA.
Uf, how you scare me!
PEER.
[_Gently; letting her go._]
No, I only meant: beg her not to forget me!
[_HELGA runs off._
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Footnotes:
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Footnote 43:
See note on page 35.
Footnote 44:
“Blir der Helg når en dig ser?” literally, “Does it become a
holy-day (or holy-tide) when one sees you?”
Footnote 45:
A malevolent water-monster.
Footnote 46:
_Sæter_—a châlet, or small mountain farm, where the cattle are
sent to pasture in the summer months.
Footnote 47:
See note, p. 29.
Footnote 48:
See Appendix.
Footnote 49:
Pronounce _Vaal-fyeld_.
Footnote 50:
Pronounce Broasë.
Footnote 51:
Kicking the rafters is a much-admired exploit in peasant
dancing. See note, page 30.
Footnote 52:
Literally, “Better than our reputation.”
Footnote 53:
“Ustyggelig stygt.” “Ustyggelig” seems to be what Mr. Lewis
Carroll calls a portmanteau word, compounded of “usigelig” =
unspeakable, and “styg” = ugly. The words might be rendered
“beyond grimness grim.”
Footnote 54:
See Introduction and Appendix.
Footnote 55:
Rendered harmless by magical anointing.
Footnote 56:
“Atter og fram, det er lige langt;—
ud og ind, det er lige trangt!”
Footnote 57:
“Med lempe,” literally “by gentleness” or “easy-goingness.”
“Quiescence” is somewhere near the idea.
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