Yes, that’s perfectly clear.
PEER.
Might as well have stayed quietly where I was?
Might have stayed in the Rondë in comfort and peace?
Saved my trouble and toil and no end of shoe-leather?
Peer Gynt—a troll? Why, it’s rubbish! It’s stuff!
Good-bye! There’s a halfpenny to buy you tobacco.
THE OLD MAN.
Nay, my good Prince Peer!
PEER.
Let me go! You’re mad,
Or else doting. Off to the hospital with you!
THE OLD MAN.
Oh, that is exactly what I’m in search of.
But, as I told you, my grandson’s offspring
Have become overwhelmingly strong in the land,
And they say that I only exist in books.
The saw says: One’s kin are unkindest of all;
I’ve found to my cost that that saying is true.
It’s cruel to count as mere figment and fable——
PEER.
My dear man, there are others who share the same fate.
THE OLD MAN.
And ourselves we’ve no Mutual Aid Society,
No alms-box or Penny Savings Bank;—
In the Rondë, of course, they’d be out of place.
PEER.
No, that curs’d: _To thyself be enough_ was the word there!
THE OLD MAN.
Oh, come now, the Prince can’t complain of the word.
And if he could manage by hook or by crook——
PEER.
My man, you have got on the wrong scent entirely;
I’m myself, as the saying goes, fairly cleaned out[137]——
THE OLD MAN.
You surely can’t mean it? His Highness a beggar?
PEER.
Completely. His Highness’s ego’s in pawn.
And it’s all your fault, you accursed trolls!
That’s what comes of keeping bad company.
THE OLD MAN.
So there came my hope toppling down from its perch again!
Good-bye! I had best struggle on to the town——
PEER.
What would you do there?
THE OLD MAN.
I will go to the theatre.
The papers are clamouring for national talents——
PEER.
Good luck on your journey; and greet them from me.
If I can but get free, I will go the same way.
A farce I will write them, a mad and profound one;
Its name shall be: “Sic transit gloria mundi.”
[_He runs off along the road; the OLD MAN shouts after
him._
SCENE NINTH.
[_At a cross-road._]
PEER GYNT.
Now comes the pinch, Peer, as never before!
This Dovrish _Enough_ has passed judgment upon you.
The vessel’s a wreck; one must float with the spars.
All else; but to go to the scrap-heap—no, no!
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
[_At the cross-road._]
Well now, Peer Gynt, have you found your voucher?
PEER.
Is this, then, the cross-road? Well, that is short work!
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
I can see on your face, as it were on a sign-board,
The gist of the paper before I have read it.
PEER.
I got tired of the hunt;—one might lose one’s way——
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Yes; and what does it lead to, after all?
PEER.
True enough; in the wood, and by night as well——
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
There’s an old man, though, trudging. Shall we call him here?
PEER.
No, let him go. He is drunk, my dear fellow!
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
But perhaps he might——
PEER.
Hush; no—let him alone!
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Well, shall we begin then?
PEER.
One question—just one:
What is it, at bottom, this “being oneself”?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
A singular question, most odd in the mouth
Of a man who but now——
PEER.
Come, a straightforward answer.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
To be oneself is: to slay oneself.
But on you that answer is doubtless lost;
And therefore we’ll say: to stand forth everywhere
With Master’s intention displayed like a sign-board.
PEER.
But suppose a man never has come to know
What Master meant with him?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
He must divine it.
PEER.
But how oft are divinings beside the mark,—
Then one’s carried “ad undas”[138] in middle career.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
That is certain, Peer Gynt; in default of divining
The cloven-hoofed gentleman finds his best hook.
PEER.
This matter’s excessively complicated.—
See here! I no longer plead being myself;—
It might not be easy to get it proven.
That part of my case I must look on as lost.
But just now, as I wandered alone o’er the heath,
I felt my conscience-shoe pinching me;
I said to myself: After all, you’re a sinner——
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
You seem bent on beginning all over again——
PEER.
No, very far from it; a _great_ one I mean;
Not only in deeds, but in words and desires.
I’ve lived a most damnable life abroad——
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Perhaps; I must ask you to show me the schedule!
PEER.
Well well, give me time; I will find out a parson,
Confess with all speed, and then bring you his voucher.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Ay, if you can bring me that, then it is clear
You may yet escape from the casting-ladle.
But Peer, I’d my orders——
PEER.
The paper is old;
It dates no doubt from a long past period;—
At one time I lived with disgusting slackness,
Went playing the prophet, and trusted in Fate.
Well, may I try?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
But——!
PEER.
My dear, good man,
I’m sure you can’t have so much to do.
Here, in this district, the air is so bracing,
It adds an ell to the people’s ages.
Recollect what the Justedal parson wrote:
“It’s seldom that any one dies in this valley.”
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
To the next cross-roads then; but not a step further.
PEER.
A priest I must catch, if it be with the tongs.
[_He starts running._
SCENE TENTH.
_A heather-clad hillside with a path following the windings of
the ridge._
PEER.
This may come in useful in many ways,
Said Esben as he picked up a magpie’s wing.
Who could have thought one’s account of sins
Would come to one’s aid on the last night of all?
Well, whether or no, it’s a ticklish business;
A move from the frying-pan[139] into the fire;—
But then there’s a proverb of well-tried validity
Which says that as long as there’s life there is hope.
_A LEAN PERSON in a priest’s cassock, kilted-up high,
and with a birding-net over his shoulder, comes
hurrying along the ridge._
PEER.
Who goes there? A priest with a fowling-net!
Hei, hop! I’m the spoilt child of fortune indeed!
Good evening, Herr Pastor! the path is bad——
THE LEAN ONE.
Ah yes; but what wouldn’t one do for a soul?
PEER.
Aha! then there’s some one bound heavenwards?
THE LEAN ONE.
No;
I hope he is taking a different road.
PEER.
May I walk with Herr Pastor a bit of the way?
THE LEAN ONE.
With pleasure; I’m partial to company.
PEER.
I should like to consult you——
THE LEAN ONE.
__Heraus!__[140] Go ahead!
PEER.
You see here before you a good sort of man.
The laws of the state I have strictly observed,
Have made no acquaintance with fetters or bolts;—
But it happens at times that one misses one’s footing
And stumbles——
THE LEAN ONE.
Ah yes; that occurs to the best of us.
PEER.
Now these trifles you see——
THE LEAN ONE.
Only trifles?
PEER.
Yes;
From sinning _en gros_[140] I have ever refrained.
THE LEAN ONE.
Oh then, my dear fellow, pray leave me in peace;—
I’m not the person you seem to think me.—
You look at my fingers: What see you in them?
PEER.
A nail-system somewhat extremely developed.
THE LEAN ONE.
And now? You are casting a glance at my feet?
PEER.
[_Pointing._]
That’s a natural hoof?
THE LEAN ONE.
So I flatter myself.
PEER.
[_Raises his hat._]
I’d have taken my oath you were simply a parson;
And I find I’ve the honour——. Well, best is best;—
When the hall door stands wide,—shun the kitchen way;
When the king’s to be met with,—avoid the lackey.
THE LEAN ONE.
Your hand! You appear to be free from prejudice.
Say on then, my friend; in what way can I serve you?
Now you mustn’t ask me for wealth or power;
I couldn’t supply them although I should hang for it.
You can’t think how slack the whole business is;—
Transactions have dwindled most pitiably.
Nothing doing in souls; only now and again
A stray one——
PEER.
The race has improved so remarkably?
THE LEAN ONE.
No, just the reverse; it’s sunk shamefully low;—
The majority end in a casting-ladle.
PEER.
Ah yes—I have heard that ladle mentioned;
In fact, ’twas the cause of my coming to you.
THE LEAN ONE.
Speak out!
PEER.
If it were not too much to ask,
I should like——
THE LEAN ONE.
A harbour of refuge? eh?
PEER.
You’ve guessed my petition before I have asked.
You tell me the business is going awry;
So I daresay you will not be over-particular.
THE LEAN ONE.
But, my dear——
PEER.
My demands are in no way excessive.
I shouldn’t insist on a salary;
But treatment as friendly as things will permit.
THE LEAN ONE.
A fire in your room?
PEER.
Not too much fire;—and chiefly
The power of departing in safety and peace,—
The right, as the phrase goes, of freely withdrawing
Should an opening offer for happier days.
THE LEAN ONE.
My dear friend, I vow I’m sincerely distressed;
But you cannot imagine how many petitions
Of similar purport good people send in,
When they’re quitting the scene of their earthly activity.
PEER.
But now that I think of my past career,
I feel I’ve an absolute claim to admission——
THE LEAN ONE.
’Twas but trifles, you said——
PEER.
In a certain sense;—
But, now I remember, I’ve trafficked in slaves——
THE LEAN ONE.
There are men that have trafficked in wills and souls,
But who bungled it so that they failed to get in.
PEER.
I’ve shipped Bramah-figures in plenty to China.
THE LEAN ONE.
Mere wish-wash again! Why, we laugh at such things.
There are people that ship off far gruesomer figures
In sermons, in art, and in literature,
Yet have to stay out in the cold——
PEER.
Ah, but then,
Do you know—I once went and set up as a prophet!
THE LEAN ONE.
In foreign parts? Humbug! Why most people’s _Sehen
Ins Blaue_[141] ends in the casting-ladle.
If you’ve no more than that to rely upon,
With the best of good will, I can’t possibly house you.
PEER.
But hear this: In a shipwreck—I clung to a boat’s keel,—
And it’s written: A drowning man grasps at a straw,—
Furthermore it is written: You’re nearest yourself,—
So I half-way divested a cook of his life.
THE LEAN ONE.
It were all one to me if a kitchen-maid
You had half-way divested of something else.
What sort of stuff is this half-way jargon,
Saving your presence? Who, think you, would care
To throw away dearly-bought fuel, in times
Like these, on such spiritless rubbish as this?
There now, don’t be enraged; ’twas your sins that I scoffed at;
And excuse my speaking my mind so bluntly.—
Come, my dearest friend, banish this stuff from your head,[142]
And get used to the thought of the casting-ladle.
What would you gain if I lodged you and boarded you?
Consider; I know you’re a sensible man.
Well, you’d keep your memory; that’s so far true;—
But the retrospect o’er recollection’s domain
Would be, both for heart and for intellect,
What the Swedes call “Mighty poor sport”[143] indeed.
You have nothing either to howl or to smile about;
No cause for rejoicing nor yet for despair;
Nothing to make you feel hot or cold;
Only a sort of a something to fret over.
PEER.
It is written: It’s never so easy to know
Where the shoe is tight that one isn’t wearing.
THE LEAN ONE.
Very true; I have—praise be to so-and-so!—
No occasion for more than a single odd shoe.
But it’s lucky we happened to speak of shoes;
It reminds me that I must be hurrying on;—
I’m after a roast that I hope will prove fat;
So I really mustn’t stand gossiping here.—
PEER.
And may one inquire, then, what sort of sin-diet
The man has been fattened on?
THE LEAN ONE.
I understand
He has been himself both by night and by day,
And that, after all, is the principal point.
PEER.
Himself? Then do such folks belong to your parish?
THE LEAN ONE.
That depends; the door, at least, stands ajar for them.
Remember, in two ways a man can be
Himself—there’s a right and wrong side to the jacket.
You know they have lately discovered in Paris
A way to take portraits by help of the sun.
One can either produce a straightforward picture
Or else what is known as a negative one.
In the latter the lights and the shades are reversed,
And they’re apt to seem ugly to commonplace eyes;
But for all that the likeness is latent in them,
And all you require is to bring it out.
If, then, a soul shall have pictured itself
In the course of its life by the negative method,
The plate is not therefore entirely cashiered,—
But without more ado they consign it to me.
For ulterior treatment I take it in hand,
And by suitable methods effect its development.
I steam it, I dip it, I burn it, I scour it,
With sulphur and other ingredients like that,
Till the image appears which the plate was designed for,—
That, namely, which people call positive.
But for one who, like you, has smudged himself out,
Neither sulphur nor potash avails in the least.
PEER.
I see; one must come to you black as a raven
To turn out a white ptarmigan? Pray what’s the name
Inscribed ’neath the negative counterfeit
That you’re now to transfer to the positive side?
THE LEAN ONE.
The name’s Peter[144] Gynt.
PEER.
Peter Gynt? Indeed?
Is Herr Gynt himself?
THE LEAN ONE.
Yes, he vows he is.
PEER.
Well, he’s one to be trusted, that same Herr Peter.
THE LEAN ONE.
You know him, perhaps?
PEER.
Oh yes, after a fashion;—
One knows all sorts of people.
THE LEAN ONE.
I’m pressed for time;
Where saw you him last?
PEER.
It was down at the Cape.
THE LEAN ONE.
Di Buona Speranza?
PEER.
Just so; but he sails
Very shortly again, if I’m not mistaken.
THE LEAN ONE.
I must hurry off then without delay.
I only hope I may catch him in time!
That Cape of Good Hope—I could never abide it;—
It’s ruined by missionaries from Stavanger.
[_He rushes off southwards._
PEER.
The stupid hound! There he takes to his heels
With his tongue lolling out. He’ll be finely sold.
It delights me to humbug an ass like that.
He to give himself airs, and to lord it forsooth!
He’s a mighty lot, truly, to swagger about!
He’ll scarcely grow fat at his present trade;—
He’ll soon drop from his perch with his whole apparatus.—
H’m, I’m not over-safe in the saddle either;
I’m expelled, one may say, from self-owning nobility.[145]
[_A shooting star is seen; he nods after it._
Greet all friends from Peer Gynt, Brother Starry-Flash!
To flash forth, to go out, and be naught at a gulp—
[_Pulls himself together as though in terror, and goes
deeper in among the mists; stillness for awhile;
then he cries_:
Is there no one, no one in all the whirl,—
In the void no one, and no one in heaven—!
[_He comes forward again further down, throws his hat
upon the ground, and tears at his hair. By degrees a
stillness comes over him._
So unspeakably poor, then, a soul can go
Back to nothingness, into the grey of the mist.
Thou beautiful earth, be not angry with me
That I trampled thy grasses to no avail.
Thou beautiful sun, thou hast squandered away
Thy glory of light in an empty hut.
There was no one within it to hearten and warm;—
The owner, they tell me, was never at home.
Beautiful sun and beautiful earth,
You were foolish to bear and give light to my mother.
The spirit is niggard and nature lavish;
And dearly one pays for one’s birth with one’s life.—
I will clamber up high, to the dizziest peak;
I will look once more on the rising sun,
Gaze till I’m tired o’er the promised land;
Then try to get snowdrifts piled up over me.
They can write above them: “Here _No One_ lies buried”;
And afterwards,—then——! Let things go as they can.
CHURCH-GOERS.
[_Singing on the forest path._]
Oh, morning thrice blest,
When the tongues of God’s kingdom
Struck the earth like to flaming steel!
From the earth to his dwelling
Now the heirs’ song ascendeth
In the tongue of the kingdom of God.
PEER.
[_Crouches as in terror._]
Never look there! _there_ all’s desert and waste.—
I fear I was dead long before I died.
[_Tries to slink in among the bushes, but comes upon the
cross-roads._
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Good morning, Peer Gynt! Where’s the list of your sins?
PEER.
Do you think that I haven’t been whistling and shouting
As hard as I could?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
And met no one at all?
PEER.
Not a soul but a tramping photographer.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Well, the respite is over.
PEER.
Ay, everything’s over.
The owl smells the daylight. Just list to the hooting!
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
It’s the matin-bell ringing——
PEER.
[_Pointing._]
What’s that shining yonder?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Only light from a hut.
PEER.
And that wailing sound——?
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
But a woman singing.
PEER.
Ay, there—there I’ll find
The list of my sins——
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
[_Seizing him._]
Set your house in order!
[_They have come out of the underwood, and are standing
near the hut. Day is dawning._
PEER.
Set my house in order? It’s there! Away.
Get you gone! Though your ladle were huge as a coffin,
It were too small, I tell you, for me and my sins.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
Well, to the third cross-road, Peer; but then——.
[_Turns aside and goes._
PEER.
[_Approaches the hut._]
Forward and back, and it’s just as far.
Out and in, and it’s just as strait.
[_Stops._
No!—like a wild, an unending lament,
Is the thought: to come back, to go in, to go home.
[_Takes a few steps on, but stops again._
Round about, said the Boyg!
[_Hears singing in the hut._
Ah no; this time at least
Right through, though the path may be never so strait!
[_He runs towards the hut; at the same moment SOLVEIG
appears in the doorway, dressed for church, with a
psalm-book wrapped in a kerchief, and a staff in her
hand. She stands there erect and mild._
PEER.
[_Flings himself down on the threshold._]
Hast thou doom for a sinner, then speak it forth!
SOLVEIG.
He is here! He is here! Oh, to God be the praise!
[_Stretches out her arms as though groping for him._
PEER.
Cry out all my sins and my trespasses!
SOLVEIG.
In nought hast thou sinned, oh my own only boy.
[_Gropes for him again, and finds him._
THE BUTTON-MOULDER.
[_Behind the house._]
The sin-list, Peer Gynt?
PEER.
Cry aloud my crime!
SOLVEIG.
[_Sits down beside him._]
Thou hast made all my life as a beautiful song.
Blessëd be thou that at last thou hast come!
Blessëd, thrice blessëd our Whitsun-morn meeting!
PEER.
Then I am lost!
SOLVEIG.
There is one that rules all things.
PEER.
[_Laughs._]
Lost! Unless thou canst answer riddles.
SOLVEIG.
Tell me them.
PEER.
Tell them! Come on! To be sure!
Canst thou tell where Peer Gynt has been since we parted?
SOLVEIG.
Been?
PEER.
With his destiny’s seal on his brow;
Been, as in God’s thought he first sprang forth!
Canst thou tell me? If not, I must get me home,—
Go down to the mist-shrouded regions.
SOLVEIG.
[_Smiling._]
Oh, that riddle is easy.
PEER.
Then tell what thou knowest!
Where was I, as myself, as the whole man, the true man?
Where was I, with God’s sigil upon my brow?
SOLVEIG.
In my faith, in my hope, and in my love.[146]
PEER.
[_Starts back._]
What sayest thou——? Peace! These are juggling words.
Thou art mother thyself to the man that’s there.
SOLVEIG.
Ay, that I am; but who is his father?
Surely he that forgives at the mother’s prayer.
PEER.
[_A light shines in his face; he cries_:]
My mother; my wife; oh, thou innocent woman!—
In thy love—oh, there hide me, hide me!
[_Clings to her end hides his face in her lap. A long
silence. The sun rises._
SOLVEIG.
[_Sings softly._]
Sleep thou, dearest boy of mine!
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee——
The boy has been sitting on his mother’s lap.
They two have been playing all the life-day long.
The boy has been resting at his mother’s breast
All the life-day long. God’s blessing on my joy!
The boy has been lying close in to my heart
All the life-day long. He is weary now.
Sleep thou, dearest boy of mine!
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER’S VOICE.
[_Behind the house._]
At the last cross-road we will meet again, Peer;
And _then_ we’ll see whether——; I say no more.
SOLVEIG.
[_Sings louder in the full daylight._]
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee;
Sleep and dream thou, dear my boy!
-----
Footnotes:
-----
Footnote 109:
Mountains and glaciers.
Footnote 110:
Mountains and glaciers.
Footnote 111:
So in original.
Footnote 112:
“Angst”—literally, “dread” or “terror”—probably means here
something like “conviction of sin.” The influence of the
Danish theologian, Sören Kierkegård, may be traced in this
passage.
Footnote 113:
Literally, “Are set on screws.”
Footnote 114:
“Tolder,” the biblical “publican.”
Footnote 115:
See footnote, p. 95.
Footnote 116:
A mountain in the Jotunheim. The name means “glittering peak.”
Footnote 117:
“Den tid den sorg”—literally, “That time that sorrow” or
“care.”
Footnote 118:
Literally “the bushel.” See note, p. 11.
Footnote 119:
See Appendix.
Footnote 120:
See footnote, p. 114.
Footnote 121:
See footnote, p. 95.
Footnote 122:
“Digter”; means also “poet.”
Footnote 123:
See footnotes, pp. 29 and 30.
Footnote 124:
In the original, “Personlighed”—personality.
Footnote 125:
This and the following line, literally translated, run thus:
“Life, as it’s called, has a fox behind its ear. But when one
grasps at him, Reynard takes to his heels.” “To have a fox
behind the ear” is a proverbial expression for insincerity,
double-dealing.
Footnote 126:
See footnote, p. 171.
Footnote 127:
See footnote, p. 212.
Footnote 128:
See Introduction.
Footnote 129:
“Pöl,” otherwise “Svovlpöl”—the sulphur pool of hell.
Footnote 130:
See footnote, p. 229.
Footnote 131:
Literally, “With Peter and Paul.”
Footnote 132:
The Royal Mint is at Kongsberg, a town in southern Norway.
Footnote 133:
See footnote, p. 218.
Footnote 134:
“Hun gik nu for koldt vand og lud”—literally, “to live on cold
water and lye”—to live wretchedly and be badly treated.
Footnote 135:
Literally, “Wrote my motto behind your ear.”
Footnote 136:
Clearly the troll-substitute for “in black and white.”
Footnote 137:
Literally, “On a naked hill.”
Footnote 138:
So in original.
Footnote 139:
Literally, “the ashes.”
Footnote 140:
So in original.
Footnote 141:
So in original.
Footnote 142:
Literally, “knock out that tooth.”
Footnote 143:
“Bra litet rolig.”
Footnote 144:
So in original.
Footnote 145:
“_Selv_ejer-Adlen.” “Selvejer” (literally, “self-owner”) means
a freeholder, as opposed to a “husmand” or tenant. There is of
course a play upon words in the original.
Footnote 146:
“I min Tro, i mit Håb og i min Kjærlighed.”
We have entirely sacrificed the metre of the line, feeling it
impossible to mar its simplicity by any padding. “Kjærlighed”
also means “charity,” in the biblical sense.
-----
THE END.
APPENDIX.
[The stories of Peer Gynt and Gudbrand Glesnë both occur in Asbjörnsen’s
“Reindeer-hunting in the Rondë Hills” (_Norske Huldre-Eventyr og
Folkesagn_, Christiania, 1848). They are told by the peasant guides or
gillies who accompany a shooting-party into the mountains—the first by
Peer Fugleskjelle, the second by Thor Ulvsvolden. Our translation of
Asbjörnsen’s “Peer Gynt” is based on Mr. H. L. Brækstad’s version,
published in _Round the Yule Log_, London, 1881.]
PEER GYNT.
In the old days there lived in Kvam a hunter, whose name was Peer Gynt.
He was always up in the mountains shooting bears and elks; for in those
days there were more forests on the mountains to harbour such wild
beasts. One time, late in the autumn, long after the cattle had been
driven home, Peer set out for the hills. Every one had left the uplands
except three sæter-girls. When Peer came up towards Hövring, where he
was to pass the night in a sæter, it was so dark that he could not see
his fist before him, and the dogs fell to barking and baying so that it
was quite uncanny. All of a sudden he ran against something, and when he
put his hand out he felt it was cold and slippery and big. Yet he did
not seem to have strayed from the road, so he couldn’t think what this
could be; but unpleasant it was at any rate.
“Who is it?” asked Peer, for he felt it moving.
“Oh, it’s the Boyg,”[147] was the answer.
Peer was no wiser for this, but skirted along it for a bit, thinking
that somewhere he must be able to pass. Suddenly he ran against
something again, and when he put out his hand, it too was big, and cold,
and slippery.
“Who is it?” asked Peer Gynt.
“Oh, it’s the Boyg,” was the answer again.
“Well, straight or crooked, you’ll have to let me pass,” said Peer; for
he understood that he was walking in a ring, and that the Boyg had
curled itself round the sæter. Thereupon it shifted a little, so that
Peer got past. When he came inside the sæter, it was no lighter there
than outside. He was feeling along the wall for a place to hang up his
gun and his bag; but as he was groping his way forward he again felt
something cold, and big, and slippery. — “Who is it?” shouted Peer.
“Oh, it’s the great Boyg,” was the answer. Where-ever he put his hands
out or tried to get past, he felt the Boyg encircling him.
“It’s not very pleasant to be here,” thought Peer, “since this Boyg is
both out and in; but I think I can make short work of the nuisance.”