Nordan. Most people will think: "Other girls forgive things like that,
especially when they love a man."
Svava. There are some that will answer: "If she had not loved him, she
might have forgiven him."
Nordan. And yet, Svava?--and yet?
Svava. But, uncle, do you not understand? I do not know that I can
explain it, either; because, to do that, I should have to explain what
it is that we read into the face, the character, the manner of the man
we love--his voice, his smile. That is what I have lost. Its meaning is
gone.
Nordan. For a while, yes--till you have had a breathing space.
Svava. No, no, no! Do you remember that song of mine, about the beloved
one's image? that one always sees it as if it were framed in happiness?
Do you remember it?
Nordan. Yes.
Svava. Very well--I cannot see it like that any longer. I see it, of
course--but always with pain. Always! Am I to forgive that, because
other girls forgive it? What is that they have loved, these other girls?
Can you tell me that? Because what I loved is gone. I am not going to
sit down and try to conjure it up in my imagination again. I shall find
something else to do.
Nordan. You are embittered now. You have had your ideal thoroughly
shattered, and as long as you are smarting from that it is no use
reasoning with you. So I will only beg one thing of you--one single
little thing. But you must promise me to do it?
Svava. If I can.
Nordan. You can. There are things to take into consideration. Ask for
time to think it all over!
Svava. Ah!--mother has been writing to you!
Nordan. And if she has? Your mother knows what depends upon it.
Svava. What depends upon it? Why do you speak so mysteriously, as if we
were not on secure ground? Aren't we? Father talks about giving up this
place. Why?
Nordan. I suppose he thinks it will be necessary.
Svava. Father? On grounds of economy?
Nordan. Not in the least! No, but all the gossips in the place will be
at you. What you propose to do is a regular challenge, you know.
Svava. Oh, we can stand criticism! Father has some queer principles, you
know; but his own life--. Surely no one has any doubt about that?
Nordan. Listen to me, my child. You cannot prevent people inventing
things. So be careful!
Svava. What do you mean?
Nordan. I mean that you ought to go for a stroll in the park and pull
yourself together a little, before the Christensens come. Try to be
calm; come in calmly, and request time to think it over. That is all you
have to do! They will make no difficulty about that, because they must
agree. Nothing has happened yet, and all ways are still open. Do as I
ask!
Svava. I _have_ thought it over--and you will never get me to do
anything else.
Nordan. No, no. It is only a matter of form.
Svava. What? You mean something more than that, I know.
Nordan. What an obstinate girl you are!--Can you not do it then, let me
say, for your mother's sake? Your mother is a good woman.
Svava. What will they think, if I come in and say: "Will you not give me
time to consider the matter?" No, I cannot do that.
Nordan. What will you say, then?
Svava. I would rather say nothing at all. But if I absolutely must say
something--
Nordan. Of course you must!
Svava. Well, I will go out now and think it over. (Turns to go, but
stops.) But what you want can never be.
Nordan. It must be!
Svava (standing by the door). You said just now: "Your mother is a good
woman." It sounded almost as if you laid stress on the word "mother"?
Nordan. Suppose I did?
Svava. Is father not that, too?
Nordan. Your father a good woman?
Svava. Why do you try to turn it off with a joke?
Nordan. Because it is serious, confound it all!
Svava. Can I not believe father--?
Nordan. Hush!
Svava. Father?--Is it possible that he too--? Do people say that?
(NORDAN does not answer, and does not move.) Shameful! Impossible! I say
it is impossible! (Rushes out. RIIS comes in from the right.)
Riis. What is the matter with Svava?
Nordan (coming forward). There was nothing else for it.
Riis. Nothing else for it? What do you mean?
Nordan. No, devil take it!--there was nothing else for it.
Riis. Quite so--but what?
Nordan. What do you say?
Riis. No, what were you saying--?
Nordan. What was I saying?
Riis. You said there was nothing else for it. You alarm me.
Nordan. Do I? Then you did not hear right. (Moves away from him.)
Riis. Didn't hear right? You were swearing about it too!
Nordan. That I certainly did not.
Riis. Very well then, you didn't. But how did you get on with Svava?
Won't you answer me?
Nordan. How did I get on with Svava?
Riis. Why are you so preoccupied? Are things so bad, then?
Nordan. Preoccupied? Why should I be that?
Riis. You ought to know best. I was asking about Svava--how you got on
with Svava--and I think I have the right to know.
Nordan. Look here, Riis.
Riis. Yes? (NORDAN takes him by the arm.) What is it?
Nordan. Did you see Svava?
Riis. Hurrying away out through the park? Yes. My dear chap, what was
it?
Nordan. It was the Greek tragedy.
Riis. The Greek--?
Nordan. Only the name--only the name! Well, you know what the word
means, don't you?
Riis. The Greek--?
Nordan. No, no--not "Greek," but "tragedy"?
Riis. Something mournful--?
Nordan. Far from it! Something amusing! It came to Greece with the
worship of Dionysus, in whose train there was a goat--
Riis (draws his arm away). A goat? What on earth--?
Nordan. Yes, you may well be surprised--because it sang!
Riis. Sang?
Nordan. Yes--and is still singing, of course! And paints! There are
pictures by him in every exhibition. And works in bronze and marble!
Wonderful! And such a courtier as he is, too! It is he that designs
ball-dresses and arranges entertainments--
Riis. Have you gone raving mad?
Nordan. Why do you ask that?
Riis. I am waiting patiently here till you have done talking such damned
nonsense! We are accustomed to something of the sort when you are in one
of those humours, but to-day I can't understand a blessed word of what
you are saying.
Nordan. Don't you, my dear fellow?
Riis. Can you not tell me what my daughter said? Isn't it ridiculous
that I cannot get that out of you! Now, briefly and intelligibly, what
did she say?
Nordan. Do you want to know?
Riis. He asks that!
Nordan. She said she pitied all the innocent young girls that,
generation after generation, disappear--
Riis. Where to?
Nordan. That is just it--where to? She said: "They are brought up in
pious ignorance, and finally the unsuspecting creatures are wrapped up
in a long white veil that they shall not be able to see distinctly where
they are being taken to."
Riis. Now you are talking your mythology again. Am I not to--
Nordan. Be quiet! It is your daughter that is speaking. "But I will not
do that," she said. "I will enter confidently into the holy estate of
matrimony, and sit down by the hearth in the land of my fathers, and
bring up children in the sight of my husband. But he shall be as chaste
as I; for otherwise he stains my child's head, when he kisses it,
and dishonours me."--There, that is what she said, and she looked so
splendid as she said it. (A ring is heard at the bell.)
Riis. They are upon us! They are upon us! What in the world is going to
happen? We are in a muddle of the most preposterous theories! The whole
heathen mythology is buzzing round in my head! (Hurries to the door to
meet MR. and MRS. CHRISTENSEN, whom MARGIT is showing in.) I am so happy
to see you!--so very happy! But your son?
Christensen. We could not get him to come with us.
Riis. I am very sorry!--At the same time, I quite understand.
Christensen. I admire the beauty of this place afresh every time I see
it, my dear sir!
Mrs. Christensen. This beautiful old park! I wanted once--. Oh, good
morning, doctor! How are you?
Nordan. So, so!
Riis (to MARGIT). Please tell Mrs. Riis. And--oh, there she is. (MRS.
RIIS comes in by the door at the left.) And tell Miss Svava.
Nordan. She is out in the park (pointing)--out that way. (Exit MARGIT.)
Riis. No, this way!--That's right! Go straight on till you find her.
Mrs. Christensen (who meantime has come forward with MRS. RIIS). I have
been thinking so much about you the last day or two, my dear! What a
tiresome business this is!
Mrs. Riis. Do you mind my asking if you knew anything about it before?
Mrs. Christensen. What is there that a mother--and a wife--escapes the
knowledge of nowadays, my dear! She was in my service, you know. Come
here! (Tells MRS. RIIS something in a whisper, ending with something
about "discovery" and "dismissal.")
Riis (offering the ladies chairs). Won't you sit down?--Oh, I beg your
pardon! I did not see--. (Hurries to CHRISTENSEN.) Excuse me, but are
you really comfortable in that chair?
Christensen. Thank you, I am just as uncomfortable here as anywhere
else. It is the sitting down and getting up again that bothers me more
than anything else. (Looks round.) I have just been to see him.
Riis. Hoff?
Christensen. Honest fellow. Stupid.
Riis. So long as he holds his tongue--
Christensen. He'll do that.
Riis. Thank heaven for that! Then we have only ourselves to consider. I
suppose it cost you a bit?
Christensen. Not a penny!
Riis. You got out of it cheap, then.
Christensen. Yes, didn't I? Still, as a matter of fact, he has cost me
quite enough already--although he knows nothing about that.
Riis. Indeed? When he failed, I suppose.
Christensen. No, when he married.
Riis. Oh, I understand.
Christensen. And I didn't think I should hear any more about it after
that.--You ladies seem to be having a fine game of whispering! (MRS.
CHRISTENSEN comes forward. RIIS places chairs for her and his wife.)
Mrs. Christensen. I was telling Mrs. Riis about the Miss Tang affair.
She really seems to have risen from her grave!
Christensen. Is your daughter at home, may I ask?
Riis. I have sent to fetch her.
Mrs. Christensen. I hope the last few days have taught her a lesson too,
poor girl! She suffers from a fault that unusually clever people are
very liable to--I mean self-righteousness.
Riis. Exactly! You are perfectly right! But I should call it arrogance!
Mrs. Christensen. I should not like to say that--but presumption,
perhaps.
Mrs. Riis. Why do you say that, Mrs. Christensen?
Mrs. Christensen. Because of various conversations I have had with her.
I was speaking to her once about a man's being his wife's master. In
these days it is a good thing to impress that on young girls.
Christensen. Yes, indeed!
Mrs. Christensen. And when I reminded her of certain words of St.
Paul's, she said: "Yes, it is behind those bars that we women are still
shut up." Then I knew that something would happen. Pride goes before a
fall, you know.
Christensen. Oh, come, come! That won't do at all! Your chain of
reasoning isn't sound!
Mrs. Christensen. How?
Christensen. It is not. Because in the first place it was not Miss Riis
that fell, but your precious son. And in the second place his fall was
not a consequence of Miss Riis's pride, because of course it happened
many years before Miss Riis showed any of her pride. So that if you knew
that his fall would happen as a consequence of Miss Riis's pride, you
knew something that you certainly did not know.
Mrs. Christensen. Oh, you are making fun of me!
Christensen. I ought to be at a committee meeting punctually at
one.--May I ask what has become of your daughter?
Riis. Indeed I am really beginning to wonder--(During the foregoing,
NORDAN has remained in the background, sometimes in the room and
sometimes outside in the park. MARGIT now goes fast the window outside,
and NORDAN is heard speaking to her.)
Nordan. Have you only just found her?
Margit. No, sir--I have been down once already to take Miss Riis her
hat, gloves and parasol.
Nordan. Is she going out?
Margit. I don't know, sir. (Goes out.)
Christensen. Dear me!
Riis. What does it mean? (Turns to go and fetch her.)
Nordan. No, no! Do not you go!
Mrs. Riis. I expect I had better go--
Riis. Yes, you go!
Nordan. No, I will go. I am afraid I am responsible for--. (As he goes)
I'll answer for it I will bring her back!
Christensen. Dear me!
Mrs. Christensen (getting up). I am afraid, my dear Mrs. Riis, we have
come at an inconvenient time for your daughter?
Riis. Ah, you must be lenient with her! I assure you it is these
high-flown ideas--this reading, that her mother has not been nearly firm
enough in keeping her from.
Mrs. Riis. I? What are you talking about?
Riis. I say that this is a very important moment! And at moments like
this one sees very clearly, very--well, that is what happens!
Christensen. Your husband, Mrs. Riis, has suddenly had the same sort of
revelation as our parson had lately--I should say, my wife's parson. It
was one day just after dinner--after an extremely good dinner, by the
way--a moment when a man often has very bright ideas. We were talking
about all the things a woman has to learn now, as compared with the old
days, and how some people say it is mere waste of time because she will
forget it all again when she marries. "Yes," said parson, looking very
pleased, "my wife has completely forgotten how to spell; I hope she will
soon forget how to write, too!"
Mrs. Christensen. You imitate people so well, that one cannot help
laughing--although it isn't right. (CHRISTENSEN looks at his watch.)
Riis. It doesn't look as if they were coming back?--Will you go, or
shall I?
Mrs. Riis (getting up). I will go. But you could not expect them
already--
Riis (coming close up to her and speaking in an undertone). This is your
doing! I see it clearly!
Mrs. Riis. I do not think you know what you are saying. (Goes out.)
Riis (coming forward). I really must apologise most humbly! It is the
last thing I should ever have expected of Svava--because I pride myself
that the obligations of courtesy have never been disregarded in my house
before.
Mrs. Christensen. Perhaps something has happened?
Riis. I beg your pardon?--Good heavens!
Mrs. Christensen. Oh, do not misunderstand me! I only mean that
young girls are so easily agitated, and then they do not like to show
themselves.
Riis. All the same, Mrs. Christensen, all the same! At such a moment as
this, too!--You really must excuse me, I shall have no peace till I find
out for myself what has happened! (Hurries out.)
Christensen. If Alfred had been here, I suppose he would have been
running about all over the park after these females, too.
Mrs. Christensen. Really, my dear!
Christensen. Aren't we alone?
Mrs. Christensen. Yes, but still--!
Christensen. Well, I say, as a certain famous man said before me: "What
the devil was he doing in that galley?"
Mrs. Christensen. Do have a moment's patience! It is really necessary.
Christensen. Bah! Necessary! Riis is more afraid of a rupture than any
of us. Did you see him just now?
Mrs. Christensen. Yes, of course I did, but--
Christensen. She has already gone much farther than she has any right
to.
Mrs. Christensen. So Alfred thinks, too.
Christensen. Then he should have been here now, to say so. I asked him
to come.
Mrs. Christensen. He is in love, and that makes a man a little timid.
Christensen. Nonsense!
Mrs. Christensen. Oh, that passes off when one is in love as often as
you are. (Gets up.) Here they come!--No, not Svava.
Christensen. Is she not with them?
Mrs. Christensen. I don't see her.
Riis (appearing at the door). Here they are!
Mrs. Christensen. And your daughter too?
Riis. Yes, Svava too. She asked the others to go on ahead of her. I
expect she wanted to collect herself a little.
Mrs. Christensen (sitting down again). Ah, you see, it was just what I
thought, poor child!
Mrs. Riis (coming in). She will be here in a moment! (Goes up to MRS.
CHRISTENSEN.) You must forgive her, Mrs. Christensen; she has had a bad
time of it.
Mrs. Christensen. Bless my soul, of course I understand that! The first
time one has an experience of this kind, it tells on one.
Christensen. This is positively beginning to get amusing!
[Enter NORDAN.]
Nordan. Here we are! She asked me to come on little ahead of her.
Riis. She is not going to keep us waiting any longer, I hope?
Nordan. She was just behind me.
Riis. Here she is! (Goes to the door to meet her; NORDAN and MRS. RIIS
do the same from the other side of the room.)
Christensen. One would think she were the Queen of Sheba.
(SVAVA comes in, wearing her hat, and with her gloves and parasol in her
hand. CHRISTENSEN and MRS. CHRISTENSEN get up from their seats. She bows
slightly to them, and comes to the front of the stage on the right-hand
side. All sit down in silence. NORDAN is at the extreme left, then MRS.
RIIS, MRS. CHRISTENSEN and CHRISTENSEN. At the extreme right, but a
little behind the others, is RIIS, who is sitting down one minute and
standing the next.)
Mrs. Christensen. My dear Svava, we have come here to--well, you know
what we have come for. What has happened has distressed us very much;
but what is done cannot be undone. None of us can excuse Alfred. But all
the same we think that he might be granted forgiveness, especially
at the hands of one who must know that he loves her, and loves her
sincerely. That makes it a different matter altogether, of course.
Christensen. Of course!
Riis. Of course!
Nordan. Of course!
Mrs. Christensen. And, even if you don't quite agree with me about that,
I hope you will agree with me about Alfred himself. I mean to say, that
we consider his character, my dear Svava, should vouch to you for his
fidelity. I know that, if you require it, he will give you his word of
honour that--
Mrs. Riis (getting up). No! No!
Mrs. Christensen. What is the matter, my dear Mrs. Riis?
Mrs. Riis. No words of honour! He has to take an oath when he marries,
anyway.
Nordan. But surely two make it all the safer, Mrs. Riis?
Mrs. Riis. No, no! No oath! (Sits down again.)
Christensen. I was struck with our friend Dr. Nordan's remark. Tell me,
my dear sir, do you also take it for granted that the sort of thing my
son has done ought to be an absolute bar to marriage with an honourable
woman?
Nordan. Quite the contrary! I am quite sure it never prevents any one
getting married--and remarkably well married. It is only Svava that is
behaving in an extraordinary manner in every respect.
Mrs. Christensen. I would not go so far as to say that; but there is one
thing that Svava has overlooked. She is acting as if she were free. But
she is not by any means free. A betrothal is equivalent to a marriage;
at any rate, I am old-fashioned enough to consider it so, And the man to
whom I have given my hand is thereby made my master and given authority
over me, and I owe to him--as to a superior authority--my respect,
whether he act well or ill. I cannot give him notice, or run away from
him.
Riis. That is old-fashioned and sensible. I thank you heartily, Mrs.
Christensen!
Nordan. And I too!
Mrs. Riis. But if it is too late after the betrothal--. (Checks
herself.)
Mrs. Christensen. What do you mean, dear Mrs. Riis?
Mrs. Riis. Oh, nothing nothing at all.
Nordan. Mrs. Riis means that if it is too late after the betrothal, why
do people not speak out before they are betrothed?
Riis. What a thing to say!
Christensen. Well, it wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? I imagine
proposals in future being worded somewhat in this way: "My dear
Miss So-and-So, up to date I have had such and such a number of love
affairs--that is to say, so many big ones and so many little ones."
Don't you think it would be a capital way to lead the conversation on
to--
Nordan.--to assuring her that she is the only one you have ever loved?
Christensen. Well, not exactly that, but--
Riis. Here comes Alfred!
Mrs. Riis. Alfred?
Mrs. Christensen. Yes, it really is he!
Riis (who has gone to the door to meet ALFRED). Ah, that is right! We
are so glad you have come!
Christensen. Well, my boy?
Alfred. When it came to the point, I could not do anything else--I had
to come here.
Christensen. I quite agree with you.
Riis. Yes, it was only the natural thing to do. (ALFRED comes forward
and bows respectfully to SVAVA. She bows slightly, but without looking
at him. He steps back again.)
Nordan. Good morning, my boy!
Alfred. Perhaps I have come at an inconvenient moment.
Riis. Not a bit of it! Quite the contrary!
Alfred. At the same time, it seems evident to me that my presence is not
welcome to Miss Riis. (No one answers him.)
Mrs. Christensen. But it is a family council we are holding--isn't it,
my dear girl?
Riis. I assure you, you _are_ welcome! And we are all particularly
anxious to hear what you have to say!
Christensen. That is so.
Alfred. I have not succeeded in getting a hearing yet, you know. I have
been refused admittance repeatedly--both in person and when I wrote. So
I thought that if I came now, perhaps I should get a hearing.
Riis. Of course. Who can object to that?
Nordan. You shall have your hearing.
Alfred. Perhaps I may take Miss Riis's silence to mean permission? In
that case--well--it is nothing so very much that I have to say, either.
It is merely to remind you that, when I asked for Miss Riis's hand, it
was because I loved her with all my heart--her and no one else. I could
not imagine any greater happiness, and any greater honour, than to
be loved by her in return. And so I think still. (He pauses, as if he
expected an answer. They all look at SVAVA.) What explanation I could
have given of my own free will--indeed what explanation, under other
circumstances, I should have felt impelled to give--I shall say nothing
about now. But I _owe_ no explanation! My honour demands that I should
make point of that. It is my future that I owe to her. And with regard
to that I must confess I have been hurt--deeply hurt--by the fact that
Miss Riis could doubt me for a moment. Never in my life has any one
doubted me before. With all respect, I must insist that my word shall be
taken. (They are all silent.) That is all I have to say.
Mrs. Riis (getting up unwillingly). But, Alfred, suppose a woman, under
the same circumstances, had come and said the same thing--who would
believe her? (They are all silent. SVAVA bursts into tears.)
Mrs. Christensen. Poor child!
Riis. Believe her?
Mrs. Riis. Yes, believe her. Believe her if, after past like that, she
came and assured us that she would make an honest wife?
Christensen. After a past like that?
Mrs. Riis. Perhaps that is putting it too harshly. But why should you
require her to believe a man any more readily than a man would believe
her? Because he would not believe her for a moment.
Riis (coming up behind her). Are you absolutely mad?
Christensen (half rising). Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen; the two
young people must settle the affair now! (Sits down again.)
Alfred. I must confess I have never thought of what Mrs. Riis has just
said, because such a thing never could happen. No man of honour would
choose a woman of whose past he was not certain. Never!
Mrs. Riis. But what about a woman of honour, Alfred?
Alfred. Ah, that is quite different.
Nordan. To put it precisely: a woman owes a man both her past and her
future; a man owes a woman only his future.
Alfred. Well, if you like to put it that way--yes.
Nordan (to SVAVA, as he gets up). I wanted you to postpone your answer,
my child. But now I think you ought to answer at once. (SVAVA goes up to
ALFRED, flings her glove in his face, and goes straight into her room.
ALFRED turns and looks after her. RIIS disappears into his room on the
right. Every one has risen from their seats. MRS. CHRISTENSEN takes
ALFRED by the arm and goes nut with him; CHRISTENSEN follows them. MRS.
RIIS is standing at the door of the room which SVAVA has locked after
her.)
Nordan. That was throwing down a gauntlet, if you like!
Mrs. Riis (calling through the door). Svava!
Christensen (coming in and speaking to NORDAN, who has taken no notice
of him and has not turned round). Then it is to be war?--Well, I fancy I
know a thing or two about war. (Goes out. NORDAN turns round and stands
looking after him.)
Mrs. Riis (still at the door). Svava! (RIIS comes rushing out of his
room, with his hat on and his gloves and stick in his hand, and follows
the CHRISTENSENS.) Svava!
ACT III
SCENE I
(SCENE.--DR. NORDAN'S garden, behind his neat one-storied house. He is
sitting on a chair in the foreground reading. His old servant, THOMAS,
opens the how door and looks out.)
Thomas. Doctor!
Nordan. What is it? (ALFRED comes into sight in the doorway.) Oh, it is
you! (Gets up.) Well, my boy? You don't look up to much!
Alfred. No, but never mind that. Can you give me a bit of breakfast?
Nordan. Have you had no breakfast yet? Have you not been home then?--not
been home all night?--not since yesterday? (Calls) Thomas!
Alfred. And when I have had something to eat, may I have a talk with
you?
Nordan. Of course, my dear boy. (To THOMAS, who has come out of the
house) Get some breakfast laid in that room, please (pointing to a
window on the left).
Alfred. And may I have a wash too?
Nordan. Go with Thomas. I will be with you directly. (ALFRED and THOMAS
go into the house. Then a carriage is heard stopping outside.) There is
a carriage. Go and see who it is, Thomas. I won't see any patients! I am
going away to-morrow.
Thomas. It is Mr. Christensen. (Goes into the house again.)
Nordan. Oho! (Goes to the window on the left.) Alfred!
Alfred (coming to the window). Yes?
Nordan. It is your father! If you do not want to be seen, pull down the
blind. (The blind is dulled dawn.)
Thomas (showing in CHRISTENSEN). Will you come this way please, sir.
(CHRISTENSEN is in court dress protected by a dustcoat, and wears the
cross of a Knight Commander of the Order of St. Olaf.)
Christensen. I hope I do not disturb you, doctor?
Nordan. Not at all!--In full dress! I congratulate you.
Christensen. Yes, we newly-fledged knights have to go to Court to-day.
But do you mind if I spend a minute or two here with you before I go on
to the palace?--Any news from over there? From the Riis's?
Nordan. No. They are sitting waiting for the "war" to begin, I expect.
Christensen. They shall not have to wait long, then! I have made up
my mind to begin it to-day. Has she come to her senses, by any chance?
Women usually feel things like that very acutely. But they usually get
over it, too.
Nordan. I do not think so. But I bow before your experience.
Christensen. Thank you! I should think that, as an old hand at playing
the buffer in family jars, you had a much greater experience. Yesterday
she was like an electric eel! And she gave her shock, too! The boy has
not been home since. I am almost glad of that; it shows he has some
sense of shame. I was beginning to doubt it.
Nordan. It is the coming "war" that interests me.
Christensen. Oh, you are anxious to see that, are you? Very well. As
a matter of fact there is no need to draw up a plan of campaign. That
affair of Mrs. North's can be taken up again any day, my dear fellow! It
is in the hands of the bank, you know.
Nordan. But what has that to do with your son engagement?
Christensen. What has it to do with it? Miss Riis gives my son his
dismissal because she cannot tolerate his conduct before marriage. Her
own father indulges in the same sort of conduct when he is well on in
married life! Tableau vivant tres curieux!--to use a language Mr. Riis
is very fond of.
Nordan. It is a shame to talk like that--because your son is the only
one to blame in this matter.
Christensen. My son is not in the least to blame in the matter! He
has not done the slightest thing that could harm or discredit the
Riis's--not the slightest thing! He is a man of honour, who has given
Miss Riis his promise and has kept it. Will any one dare to contradict
that? Or to suggest that he will not keep his promise? If any one doubts
him, it is an insult. Dr. Nordan! In this matter the alternatives are
either an apology and peace--or war. For I am not going to put up with
this sort of thing; and if my son puts up with it, I shall despise him.
Nordan. Oh, I quite believe your son had every honourable intention
when he gave his promise. And very likely he would have kept it, too; I
cannot say for certain, because I have learnt to doubt. I am a doctor--I
have seen too much--and he did not appear to great advantage yesterday.
You really must forgive my saying so--but after the liveliness of his
young days, coupled with the tendencies he has inherited, do you think
he really had any right to be surprised if people doubted him?--if his
fiancee doubted him? Had he really any right to feel insulted, or
to demand apologies? Apologies for what? For having doubted his
virtue?--Just consider that!
Christensen. Why, what--?
Nordan. One moment! I was only half done. You said something about a
reconciliation, you know; of course by that you meant a marriage. If
your son is willing to marry a woman who distrusts him, then I shall
despise him.
Christensen. Really--!
Nordan. Yes, indeed I shall. Our opinions are as different as all that.
To my way of thinking, your son's only course is to submit--and wait; to
keep silence, and wait--always supposing, of course, that he still loves
her. That is my view of it.
Christensen. Well, I imagine that there are very few candidates for
matrimony who have not been guilty of what my son has been guilty of;
indeed, I am sure of it. And I imagine, too, that they have the same
unfortunate "hereditary tendencies"--an expression on which you laid
stress out of special friendship for me. But is that any reason
why girls who are betrothed should behave as Miss Riis has been
doing?--scream, and run away, and create a scandal? We should not be
able to hear ourselves speak! It would be the queerest sort of anarchy
the world has ever seen! Why, such doctrines as that are contrary to
the very nature and order of things! They are mad! And when, into the
bargain, they are thrown at our heads as if they were decisions of a
High Court of Morality--well, then I strike! Good-bye! (Starts to go,
but turns back.) And who is it that these High Court of Morality's
decisions would for the most part affect, do you suppose? Just the
ablest and most vigorous of our young men. Are we going to turn them
out and make a separate despised caste of them? And what things would
be affected, do you suppose? A great part of the world's literature and
art; a great part of all that is loveliest and most captivating in the
life of to-day; the world's greatest cities, most particularly--those
wonders of the world--teeming with their millions of people! Let me
tell you this: the life that disregards marriage or loosens the bonds of
marriage, or transforms the whole institution--you know very well what
I mean--the life that is accused of using the "weapons of seduction" in
its fashions, its luxury, its entertainments, its art, its theatre--that
life is one of the most potent factors in these teeming cities, one of
the most fruitful sources of their existence! No one who has seen it can
have any doubt about it, however ingenuous he may pretend to be. Are we
to wish to play havoc with all that too?--to disown the flower of the
world's youth, and ruin the world's finest cities? It seems to me that
people wish to do so much in the name of morality, that they end by
wishing to do what would be subversive of all morality.
Nordan. You are certainly embarking on your little war in the true
statesmanlike spirit!
Christensen. It is nothing but sound common-sense, my dear sir; that
is all that is necessary, I am sure. I shill have the whole town on my
side, you may be certain of that!
Thomas (appearing at the house door). Doctor!
Nordan (turning round). Is it possible! (Hurries to the doorway, in
which MRS. RIIS appears.)
Mrs. Riis. May I--?
Nordan. Of course! Will you come out here?
Mrs. Riis (to CHRISTENSEN, who bows to her). My visit is really to you,
Mr. Christensen.
Christensen. I am honoured.
Mrs. Riis. I happened to look out into the street just as your
carriage stopped and you got out. So I thought I would seize the
opportunity--because you threatened us yesterday, you know. Is that not
so? You declared war against us?
Christensen. My recollection of it is that war was declared, Mrs. Riis,
but that I merely accepted the challenge.
Mrs. Riis. And what line is your campaign going to take, if I may ask
the question?
Christensen. I have just had the honour of explaining my position to the
doctor. I do not know whether it would be gallant to do as much to you.
Nordan. I will do it, then. The campaign will be directed against your
husband. Mr. Christensen takes the offensive.
Mrs. Riis. Naturally!--because you know you can strike at him. But I
have come to ask you to think better of it.
Christensen (with a laugh). Really?
Mrs. Riis. Once--many years ago now--I took my child in my arms and
threatened to leave my husband. Thereupon he mentioned the name
of another man, and shielded himself behind that--for it was a
distinguished name. "See how lenient that man's wife is," he said. "And,
because she is so, all her friends are lenient, and that will be all the
better for their child." Those were his words.
Christensen. Well, as far as the advice they implied was concerned, it
was good advice--and no doubt you followed it.
Mrs. Riis. The position of a divorced woman is a very humiliating one
in the eyes of the world, and the daughter of such a woman fares very
little better. The rich and distinguished folk who lead the fashion take
care of that.
Christensen. But what--?
Mrs. Riis. That is my excuse for not having the courage to leave him. I
was thinking of my child's future. But it is my husband's excuse, too;
because he is one of those who follows the example of others.
Christensen. We all do that, Mrs. Riis.
Mrs. Riis. But it is the leaders of society that set the example, for
the most part; and in this matter they set a tempting one. I suppose I
can hardly be mistaken in thinking that I have heard your view of this
matter, all along, through my husband's mouth? Or, if I am mistaken in
that, I at all events surely heard it more accurately yesterday, when I
heard your voice in everything that your son said?
Christensen. I stand by every word of what my son said.
Mrs. Riis. I thought so. This campaign of yours will really be a
remarkable one! I see your influence in everything that has happened,
from first to last. You are the moving spirit of the whole campaign--on
both sides!
Nordan. Before you answer, Christensen--may I ask you, Mrs. Riis, to
consider whether you want to make the breach hopelessly irreparable?
Do you mean to make a reconciliation between the young people quite
impossible?
Mrs. Riis. It is impossible, as it is.
Nordan. Why?
Mrs. Riis. Because all confidence is destroyed.
Nordan. More so now than before?
Mrs. Riis. Yes. I will confess that up to the moment. When Alfred's word
of honour was offered yesterday--up to the moment when he demanded that
his word of honour should be believed--I did not recognise the fact that
it was my own story over again. But it was--word for word my own story!
That was just the way we began; who will vouch for it that the sequel
would not be the same as in our case?
Christensen. My son's character will vouch for that, Mrs. Riis!
Mrs. Riis. Character? A nice sort of character a man is likely to
develop who indulges in secret and illicit courses from his boyhood!
That is the very way faithlessness is bred. If any one wants to know the
reason why character is such a rare thing, I think they will find the
answer in that.
Christensen. A man's youth is by no means the test of his life. That
depends on his marriage.
Mrs. Riis. And why should a man's faithlessness disappear when he is
married? Can you tell me that?
Christensen. Because then he loves, of course.
Mrs. Riis. Because he loves? But do you mean that he has not loved
before then? How absolutely you men have blinded yourselves!--No, love
is not the least likely to be lasting when the will is vitiated. And
that is what it is--vitiated by the life a bachelor leads.
Christensen. And yet I know plenty of sensual men who have strong wills.
Mrs. Riis. I am not speaking of strength of will, but of purity,
faithfulness, nobility of will.
Christensen. Well, if my son is to be judged by any such nonsensical
standard as that, I am devoutly thankful he has got out of the whole
thing before it became serious--indeed I am! Now we have had enough of
this. (Prepares to go.)
Mrs. Riis. As far as your son is concerned--. (Turns to NORDAN.) Doctor,
answer me this, so that his father may hear it before he goes. When you
refused to go with us to the betrothal party, had you already heard some
thing about Alfred Christensen? Was what you had heard of such a nature
that you felt you could not trust him?
Nordan (after a moment's thought). Not altogether, certainly.
Mrs. Riis (to CHRISTENSEN). There, you hear!--But will you let me ask
you this, doctor: why did you not say so? Good God, why did you not
speak?
Nordan. Listen to me, Mrs. Riis. When two young people, who after all
are suited to one another--for they are that, are they not?
Christensen. They are that, I admit.
Nordan. When all of a sudden they fall madly in love with one another,
what are you to do?
Christensen. Oh, rake up all sorts of stories and exaggerations--create
a scandal!
Nordan. Indeed, I must confess--what as a matter of fact I have
said--that I have become accustomed to things not being exactly as they
should be in that respect. I looked upon these young people's engagement
in the same light as I have looked on others--on most others--that is
cruel to say, as a lottery. It might turn out well; on the other hand it
might turn out very badly.
Mrs. Riis. And you were willing to risk my daughter, whom you are
so fond of--for I know you are fond of her--in a lottery? Could one
possibly have a clearer proof of the real state of things?
Nordan. Yes, certainly! You yourself, Mrs. Riis--what did you do?
Mrs. Riis. I--?
Christensen. Bravo!
Nordan. You knew what Hoff had said--and more too. (CHRISTENSEN laughs
quietly.) Nevertheless you helped your husband, if not actually to try
and get her to overlook it, at all events to smooth things over.
Christensen. Bravo!
Nordan. And you called in my help to induce her to take time to think it
over.
Christensen. Mothers observe a considerable difference between theory
and practice in these matters, I notice.
Nordan. It was only when I saw how deeply it affected Svava--what
a horror she had of it--that my eyes were opened. And the longer I
listened to her, the more sympathy I felt for her; for I was young
myself once--and loved. But that was such a long time ago--and I have
grown tired--
Mrs. Riis (who has sat down at the little table). My God!
Nordan. Yes, Mrs. Riis. Let me tell you candidly--it is the mothers, and
no one else, that by degrees have made me callous. Mothers look upon the
whole thing so callously. The fact is that as a rule they know what is
what.
Christensen. That they do, the dear creatures! And Mrs. Riis is no
exception to the rule. You must admit, my dear madam, that you did all
you could to hold on to a young man who had had a lively past? Not to
mention the fact that this same young man had an extremely good social
position--a thing I only allude to incidentally.
Nordan. Exactly. Rather than not give their daughters a prospect of what
they call "a good marriage" they straightway forget all that they have
suffered themselves.
Mrs. Riis. You see, we do not know that it will turn out the same in
their case.
Nordan. You don't know it?
Mrs. Riis. No, I tell you that I did not think so! We believe that the
man our daughter is going to marry is so much better. We believe that
in their case there are stronger guarantees--that the circumstances are
altogether different. It is so! It is a kind of illusion that takes hold
of us.
Christensen. When there is a prospect of a good marriage, yes! I
entirely agree with you, Mrs. Riis--for the first time. Moreover, I
think there is another side to it. Isn't it possible that women have not
suffered so much after all from the fact that men are men? What? I
fancy the suffering has been more acute than serious--something like
sea-sickness; when it is over--well, it is over. And so when it is the
daughters' turn to go on board, the dear mothers think: "Oh, they will
be able to get over it too! Only let us get them off!" For they are so
anxious to get them off, that is the truth!
Mrs. Riis (getting up and coming forward). Well, if it is so, surely it
is nothing to make fun of! It only shows what a woman can sink to, from
living with a man.
Christensen Indeed!
Mrs. Riis. Yes--because each generation of women is endowed with
a stronger and stronger aspiration for a pure life. It results
unconsciously from the maternal instinct, and is intended as a
protection for the defenceless. Even worthless mothers feel that. But if
they succumb in spite of it, and each generation of married women in
its turn sinks as deep as you say, the reason of it can only be the
privilege that men enjoy as part of their education.
Christensen. What privilege?
Mrs. Riis. That of living as they please when they are bachelors, and
then having their word of honour believed in when they choose to enter
the married state. As long as women are powerless to put an end to that
horrible privilege or to make themselves independent of it, so long will
one half of the world continue to be sacrificed on account of the other
half--on account of the other half's lack of self-control. That one
privilege turns out to be more powerful than all the striving for
liberty in the world. And that is not a laughing matter.
Christensen. You are picturing to yourself a different world from this,
and different natures from ours, Mrs. Riis. And that--if you will excuse
my saying so--is obviously all the answer that is necessary to what you
say.
Mrs. Riis. Well, then, give that answer openly! Why do you not openly
acknowledge that as your standpoint?
Christensen. But don't we?
Mrs. Riis. No--not here, at all events. On the contrary, you range
yourselves ostensibly under our banner, while all the time you are
secretly betraying it. Why have you not the courage to unfurl your
own? Let these bachelor customs of yours be sanctioned as entirely
suitable--then we should be able to join issue with you. And then
every innocent bride would be able to know what it is she is entering
upon--and in what capacity.
Nordan. That would be simply nothing more or less than abolishing
marriage.
Mrs. Riis. Would not that be more honest, too? Because now it is only
being corrupted, long before it begins.
Christensen. Oh, of course it is all the men's fault! It is the fashion
to say that now--it is part of the "struggle for freedom." Down with
man's authority, of course!
Mrs. Riis. The authority his bachelor life has won for him!
Nordan. Ha, ha!
Mrs. Riis. Do not let us cover up the real issue with phrases! Let us
rather speak of the "desolate hearth" that the poet writes of. Marriage
laid in ruins is what he means by that; and what is the cause of it?
What is the cause of the chilly, horrible commonplace of every-day
life--sensual, idle, brutish? I could paint it even more vividly, but I
will not. I will refrain, for instance, from bringing up the subject
of hereditary disease. Let the question be thrashed out openly! Then
perhaps a fire will be kindled--and our consciences stirred! It must
become the most momentous question in every home. That is what is
needed!
Christensen. Our conversation has soared to such heights that it really
seems quite an anti-climax for me to say that I must go to a "higher
place"!--but you must excuse me all the same.
Mrs. Riis. I hope I have not delayed you?
Christensen. No, there is plenty of time. I am only longing
fervently--you really must not be offended--to get away from here.
Mrs. Riis. To your--equals?
Christensen. What a remarkable thing that you should remind me of them!
And, by the way, that reminds me that I am scarcely likely to meet you
or your family in future.
Mrs. Riis. No. Our acquaintance with you is at an end.
Christensen. Thank God for that!--All I hope now is that I shall succeed
in apportioning the ridicule with some degree of justice.
Mrs. Riis. You need only publish your autobiography!
Christensen. No--I think it should rather be your family principles,
madam! They are really very quaint. And when I relate the manner in
which they are put into practice by yourselves, I rather think that
people will be quite sufficiently amused. To speak seriously for a
moment--I mean to attack your husband's reputation in private and in
public, until he quits the town. I am not the sort of man to accept a
humiliation like this without returning the compliment. (Turns to go.)
Nordan. This is shocking!
Alfred (appearing in the doorway of the house). Father!
Christensen. You here?--How ill you look, my boy! Where have you been?
Alfred. I came here at the same time as you did, and have heard
everything. Let me tell you this at once, that if you take another step
against the Riis's, I shall go round and tell every one the reason why
Miss Riis threw me over. I shall tell them exactly what it was. Oh, it
is no use looking at me with that mocking expression! I shall do it--and
at once, too.
Christensen. I think you may spare yourself the trouble. The gossip
about a broken engagement will get all over the town quicker than you
could spread it.
Nordan (going up to ALFRED). One word, my boy--do you still love her?
Alfred. Do you ask that because she has been unjust to me? Well, now I
know quite well what led to it--and inevitably led to it. I understand
now!
Christensen. And forgive her? Without anything more?
Alfred. I love her more than ever--whatever she thinks of me!
Christensen. Well, upon my word! What next, I should like to know? You
claim your right to resume the role of lover, and leave us and other
honest folk to put the best face we can on the muddle you have made!
I suppose you are going across the road now to tell her how much you
enjoyed yourself yesterday?--or to ask for a respite till to-morrow, to
give you time to pass decently through a process of purification? May I
ask where you are going to find it and what it is going to consist of?
Oh, don't look so melodramatic! If you can put up with what you got from
Riis's girl yesterday and her mother to-day, surely you can put up with
a little angry talk or a little chaff from your father. I have had to
put up with the whole affair--the betrothal and the breaking it off
as well! And then to be sprinkled with essence of morality into the
bargain! Good Lord! I hope at least I shall not smell of it still when I
get to the palace. (Goes towards the house, but turns back at the door.)
You will find same money in the office to pay for a trip abroad. (Exit.)
Nordan. Does that mean banishment?
Alfred. Of course it does. (Appears very much agitated.)
Mrs. Riis. Doctor, you must come over to our house with me--and at once!
Nordan. How is she?
Mrs. Riis. I don't know.
Nordan. You don't know?
Mrs. Riis. She wanted to be alone yesterday. And to-day she went out
early.
Nordan. Has anything happened, then?
Mrs. Riis. Yes. You told me yesterday that you had given her a hint
about--her father.
Nordan. Well?
Mrs. Riis. And so I felt that it could not be concealed any longer.
Nordan. And you have--?
Mrs. Riis. I have written to her.
Nordan. Written?
Mrs. Riis. It seemed the easiest way--and we should escape talking about
it. All yesterday afternoon and last night I was writing, and tearing it
up, and writing again--writing--writing! It was not a long letter, when
all was done, but it took it out of me.
Nordan. And has she had the letter?
Mrs. Riis. When she had had her breakfast this morning and gone out, I
sent it after her. And now, my dear friend, I want to beg you to go and
have a talk with her--then you can let me know when I may go to her.
Because I am frightened! (Hides her face in her hands.)
Nordan. The moment you came I saw something serious had happened. You
argued so vehemently, too. Well, matters have developed, and no mistake!
Mrs. Riis. You mustn't go away, doctor! Don't go away from her now!
Nordan. Oh, that is it, is it?--Thomas!
[Enter THOMAS.]
Thomas. Yes, sir.
Nordan. You need not pack my things.
Thomas. Not pack, sir?--Very good, sir. (Gives the doctor his stick and
goes to open the house door for them.)
Nordan. Allow me, Mrs. Riis. (Offers her his arm.)
Alfred (coming forward). Mrs. Riis! May I speak to her?
Mrs. Riis. Speak to her? No, that is impossible.
Nordan. You heard, my boy, what she has to think about to-day.
Mrs. Riis. And if she would not speak to you before, it is not likely
she will now.
Alfred. If she should ask to speak to me, will you tell her I am here? I
shall stay here till she does.
Mrs. Riis. But what is the use of that?
Alfred. Well, that will be our affair. I know she wants to speak to me,
just as much as I do to her. Only tell her I am here! That is all I ask.
(Goes away into the farther part of the garden.)
Nordan. He does not know what he is talking about.
Mrs. Riis. Dear Dr. Nordan, let us go! I am so frightened.
Nordan. Not more than I am, I think.--So she knows it now, does she!
(They go out.)
SCENE II
(SCENE.--The same as in Acts I. and II. SVAVA comes into the room slowly
and looks round; then goes to the door and looks round outside the
house, then comes in again. As she turns back, she sees NORDAN standing
in the doorway.)
Svava. You!--Oh, Uncle Nordan! (Sobs.)
Nordan. My child! My dear child! Calm yourself!
Svava. But haven't you seen mother? She said she had gone across to see
you.
Nordan. Yes, she is coming directly. But look here--suppose you and I
go for a good long walk together, instead of talking to your mother or
anyone? Along quiet walk? Eh?
Svava. I can't.
Nordan. Why?
Svava. Because I must make an end of all this.
Nordan. What do you mean?
Svava (without answering his question). Uncle--?
Nordan. Yes?
Svava. Does Alfred know this?--Did he know it before?
Nordan. Yes.
Svava. Of course every one knew it except me. Oh, how I wish I could
hide myself away from every one! I will, too. I see the real state of
things now for the first time. I have been like a child trying to push a
mountain away with its two hands--and they have all been standing round,
laughing at me, of course. But let me speak to Alfred!
Nordan. To Alfred?
Svava. I behaved so wrongly yesterday. I ought never to have gone into
the room--but you gave me no choice when you came to me. I went with you
almost unconsciously.
Nordan. I suppose it was thinking of your father--of what I told you
about him--that made you--
Svava. I did not understand all at once. But, when I was by myself, it
all flashed across me--mother's strange uneasiness--father's threats
about leaving the country--all sorts of expressions, and signs--lots
and lots of things I had never understood and never even thought twice
about! I chased them out of my mind, but back they came!--back and back
again! It seemed to paralyse me. And when you took me by the arm and
said: "Now you must go in!"--I hardly had strength to think. Everything
seemed to be going round and round.
Nordan. Yes, I made a regular mess of it--both on that occasion and the
time before.
Svava. No, it was all quite right--quite right! We certainly went a
little off the lines, it is true. I must speak to Alfred; the matter
must not rest as it is. But, except for that, it was all quite right.
And now I have got to make an end of it all.
Nordan. What do you mean?
Svava. Where is mother?
Nordan. My dear girl, you ought not to try and do anything to-day. I
should advise you not to speak to anybody. If you do--well, I don't know
what may happen.
Svava. But I know.--Oh, it is no use talking to me like that! You think
I am simply a bundle of nerves to-day. And it is quite true--I am. But
if you try to thwart me it will only make me worse.
Nordan. I am not trying to thwart you at all. I only--
Svava. Yes, yes, I know.--Where is mother, then? And you must bring
Alfred here. I cannot go to him, can I? Or do you think he has too much
pride to come, after what happened yesterday? Oh, no, he is not like
that! Tell him he must not be proud with one who is so humiliated.
(Bursts into tears.)
Nordan. But do you think you are able for it?
Svava. You don't know how much I can stand! Anyway, I must get done with
it all, quickly. It has lasted long enough.
Nordan. Then shall I ask your mother--?
Svava. Yes!--and will you ask Alfred?
Nordan. Presently, yes. And if you should--
Svava. No, there is no "if" about it!
Nordan.--if you should want me, I won't go away till you are "done with
it all," as you say. (SVAVA goes up to him and embraces him. He goes
out. After a short pause MRS. RIIS comes in.)
Mrs. Riis (going to SVAVA). My child! (Stops.)
Svava. No, mother, I cannot come near you. Besides, I am trembling all
over. And you don't understand what it is? It has not dawned upon you
that you cannot treat me like this?
Mrs. Riis. Treat you like this, Svava? What do you mean?
Svava. Good heavens, mother!--letting me live here day after day, year
after year, without letting me know what I was living with? Allowing me
to preach the strictest principles, from a house like ours? What will
people say of us, now that everything will be known!
Mrs. Riis. Surely you would not have wished me to tell my child that--
Svava. Not while I was a child. But when I had grown up, yes--under any
circumstances! I ought to have been allowed the choice whether I would
live at home under such conditions or not! I ought to have been allowed
to know what every one else knew--or what they may get to know at any
moment.
Mrs. Riis. I have never looked at it in that light.
Svava. Never looked at it in that light? Mother!
Mrs. Riis. Never!--To shield you and have peace in our home while you
were a child, and peace afterwards in your studies, your interests and
your pleasures--for you are not like other girls, you know, Svava--to
ensure this, I have been almost incredibly careful that no hint of this
should come to your ears. I believed that to be my duty. You have no
conception what I have stooped to--for your sake, my child.
Svava. But you had no right to do it, mother!
Mrs. Riis. No right?--
Svava. No! To degrade yourself for my sake was to degrade me too.
Mrs. Riis (with emotion). Oh, my God--!
Svava. I do not reproach you for anything, mother! I would not do that
for the world--my dear mother! I am only so infinitely distressed and
appalled at the thought of your having to go about carrying such a
secret with you! Never able to be your real self with me for a moment!
Always hiding something! And to have to listen to my praises of what
so little deserved praise--to see me putting my faith in him, caressing
him--oh, mother, mother!
Mrs. Riis. Yes, dear, I felt that myself--many and many a time. But
I felt that I dared not tell you. It was wrong--so very wrong! I
understand that now! But would you have had me leave him at once, as
soon as I knew of it myself?
Svava. I cannot take upon myself to say. You decided that for yourself.
Each one must decide that for herself--according to the measure of her
love and her strength. But when the thing went on after I was grown
up--! Naturally that was why I made a second mistake. I had been brought
up to make mistakes, you see. (RIIS is heard outside the window, humming
a tune.)
Mrs. Riis. Good heavens, there he is! (RIIS is seen passing the
left-hand window. When he reaches the door, however, he stops and, with
the words, "Oh, by the bye!" turns back and goes hurriedly out.)
Mrs. Riis. You look quite changed, my child! Svava, you frighten me!
Surely you are not going to--?
Svava. What is it that is in your mind, mother?
Mrs. Riis. The thought that, as I have endured so much for your sake,
you might make up your mind to endure a little for mine.
Svava. A little of this? No, not for a moment!
Mrs. Riis. But what are you going to do?
Svava. Go away from here at once, of course.
Mrs. Riis (with a cry). Then I shall go with you!
Svava. You? Away from father?
Mrs. Riis. It has been for your sake that I have stayed with him. I
won't stay here a day without you!--Ah, you don't want me with you!
Svava. Mother, dear--I must have time to accustom myself to the changed
state of things. You have quite changed in my eyes too, you see. I have
been mistaken in you, and I must get accustomed to that idea. I must be
alone!--Oh, don't look so unhappy, dear!
Mrs. Riis. And this is the end of it all--this is the end of it!
Svava. I cannot act otherwise, dear. I must go away now to my
Kindergartens and give up my life entirely to that work. I must, I must!
If I cannot be alone there, I must go farther afield.
Mrs. Riis. This is the cruellest part of it all--the cruellest part!
Listen, is that--? Yes, it is he. Do not say anything now! For my sake
say nothing now; I cannot bear anything more on the top of this!--Try
to be friendly to him! Svava--do you hear me! (RIIS comes back, still
humming a tune; this time he has his overcoat over his arm. SVAVA comes
hurriedly forward, and after a moment's hesitation sits down with her
back half turned to him, and tries to busy herself with something. RIIS
puts down his overcoat. He is in court dress and wears the Order of St.
Olaf.)
Riis. Good morning, ladies! Good morning!
Mrs. Riis. Good morning!
Riis. Here is the latest great piece of news for you: Who do you think
drove me from the palace? Christensen!
Mrs. Riis. Really?
Riis. Yes! Our wrathful friend of yesterday! Yes! He and one of my
fellow-directors. I was one of the first persons he greeted when he got
to the palace. He introduced me to people, chatted with me--paid me the
most marked attention!
Mrs. Riis. You don't mean it?
Riis. Consequently nothing really happened here yesterday! No gloves
were thrown about at all, least of all in his eldest son's face!
Christensen, the worthy knight of to-day's making, feels the necessity
for peace! We ended by drinking a bottle of champagne at my brother's.
Mrs. Riis. How amusing!
Riis. Therefore, ladies--smiles, if you please! Nothing has happened
here, absolutely nothing! We begin again with an absolutely clean slate,
without a smear upon it!
Mrs. Riis. What a piece of luck!
Riis. Yes, isn't it! That rather violent outburst of our daughter's has
unburdened her mind and cleared the ideas in other people's heads. The
general atmosphere is agreeably clear, not to say favourable.
Mrs. Riis. And what was it like at the palace?
Riis. Well, I can tell you this--when I looked round at our batch of
new-fledged knights, it did not exactly impress me that it is virtue
that is rewarded in this world of ours. However, we were all confronted
with an alarmingly solemn document. It was about something we swore to
preserve--I fancy it was the State--or perhaps the Church--I am really
not sure, because I didn't read it. They all signed it!
Mrs. Riis. You, as well?
Riis. I, as well. Do you suppose I was going to be left out of such good
company? Up at those exalted heights one obtains a happier and freer
outlook upon life. We were all friends up there. People came up and
congratulated me--and after a bit I wasn't sure whether it was on my
daughter's account or on my own; and, what is more, I never knew I had
so many friends in the town, let alone at Court! But in such brilliant
company and such an atmosphere of praises and compliments and general
amiability, one was not inclined to be particular! And there were only
men present! You know--you ladies must excuse me--there is sometimes
a peculiar charm in being only with men, especially on great occasions
like that. Conversation becomes more pointed, more actual, more
robust--and laughter more full of zest. Men seem to understand one
another almost without the need of words.
Mrs. Riis. I suppose you are feeling very happy to-day, then?
Riis. I should think I am!--and I only wish every one were the same! I
daresay life might be better than it is; but, as I saw it under those
circumstances from those exalted heights, it might also be much worse.
And, as for us men--oh, well, we have our faults, no doubt, but we are
very good company for all that. It would be a dull world without us, I
am sure. Let us take life as it comes, my dear Svava! (Comes nearer
to her. She gets up.) What is the matter? Are you still in a bad
temper?--when you have had the pleasure of boxing his ears with your own
gloves, before the whole family circle? What more can you reasonably
ask of life? I should say you ought to have a good laugh over it!--Or is
there something up? What? Come, what is the matter now?
Mrs. Riis. The fact is--
Riis. Well, the fact is--?
Mrs. Riis. The fact is that Alfred will be here in a moment.
Riis. Alfred here? In a moment? Hurrah! I quite understand! But why
didn't you tell me so at once?
Mrs. Riis. You have talked the whole time since you came in.
Riis. I do believe I have!--Well, if you are going to take it seriously,
my dear Svava, perhaps you will allow your "knightly" father to take it
lightly? The whole thing amuses me so tremendously. I was put into good
spirits to-day the moment I saw, from Christensen's face, that there
was nothing in the wind. And so Alfred is coming here directly! Then I
understand everything. Hurrah, once more! I assure you that is the best
of all the good things that have happened to-day. I really think I must
play a festal overture till he comes! (Goes towards the piano, singing.)
Mrs. Riis. No, no, dear! Do you hear? No, no! (RIIS plays on, without
listening to hey, till she goes up to him, and stops him, pointing to
SVAVA.)
Svava. Oh, let him play, mother--let him play! It is the innocent
gaiety that I have admired since I was a child! (Bursts into tears, but
collects herself.) How hateful! How horrible!
Riis. My dear child, you look as if you wanted to be throwing down
gauntlets to-day too! Isn't that all done with?
Svava. No, indeed it is not!
Riis. You shall have the loan of my gloves, if you haven't--
Mrs. Riis. Oh, don't say those things to her!
Svava. Oh, yes, let him! Let him mock at us, mother dear! A man of his
moral earnestness has the right to mock at us!
Riis. What are you talking about? Does it show a lack of moral
earnestness not to be in love with old maids and sour-faced virtue?
Svava. Father, you are--
Mrs. Riis. No, Svava!
Riis. Oh, let her say what she wants! It is something quite new to see
a well-brought-up girl throw her gloves in her fiance's face and
accusations in her father's! Especially when it is all done in the name
of morality!
Svava. Don't talk about morality! Or go and talk to Mrs. North about it!
Riis. Mrs.--Mrs.--? What has she to do with--?
Svava. Be quiet! I know everything! You have--
Mrs. Riis. Svava!
Svava. Ah, yes-for mother's sake I won't go on. But, when I threw down
my much discussed gauntlet yesterday, I knew about it then. That was why
I did it! It was a protest against everything of the kind, against
its beginning and its continuation, against him and against you!
I understood--then--your pious zeal in the matter, and the show of
scandalised morality you allowed mother to be a witness of!
Mrs. Riis. Svava!
Svava. I understand now, for the first time, what your consideration,
your politeness to mother--which I have so often admired--all meant!
Your fun, your good temper, your care of your appearance!--Oh, I never
can believe in anything any more! It is horrible, horrible!
Mrs. Riis. Svava, dear!
Svava. All life seems to have become unclean for me! My nearest and
dearest all soiled and smirched! That is why, ever since yesterday,
I have had the feeling of being an outcast; and that is what I am--an
outcast from all that I prized and reverenced--and that without my
having done the slightest thing to deserve it. Even so, it is not the
pain of it that I feel most deeply; it is the humiliation, the shame.
All that I have so often said must seem now to be nothing but empty
words--all that I have done myself must seem of no account--and this
without its being my fault! For it is your fault! I thought, too, that
I knew something about life; but there was more for me to learn! I see
that you wanted me to give way to such an extent that I should end
by acquiescing in it. I understand now, for the first time, what your
teaching meant--and the things that you invoked mother and heaven to
witness. But it is of no use! I can tell you that it is about as much
as one can stand, to have the thoughts I have had yesterday--last
night--to-day. However, it is once and for all; after this, nothing can
ever take me by surprise again. To think that any man could have the
heart to let his child have such an experience!
Mrs. Riis. Svava--look at your father!
Svava. Yes--but if you think what I am saying now is hard, remember what
I said to you before I knew this--no longer ago than yesterday morning.
That will give you some idea of how I believed in you, father--and some
idea of what I am feeling now! Oh--!
Riis. Svava!
Svava. You have ruined my home for me! Almost every other hour in it has
been corrupted--and I cannot face a future like that.
Riis and Mrs. Riis (together). But, Svava--!
Svava. No, I cannot! My faith in you is destroyed--so that I can never
think of this as a home again. It makes me feel as if I were merely
living with you as a lodger--from yesterday onwards, merely a lodger in
the house.
Riis. Don't say that! My child!
Svava. Yes, I am your child. It only needed you to say it like that, for
me to feel it deeply. To think of all the experiences we two have
had together--all the happy times we have had on our travels, in our
amusements--and then to think that I can never look back on them again,
never take them up again! That is why I cannot stay here.
Riis. You cannot stay here!
Svava. It would remind me of everything too painfully. I should see
everything in a distorted light.
Mrs. Riis. But you will see that you cannot bear to go away, either!
Riis. But--I can go!
Mrs Riis. You?
Riis. Yes, and your mother and you stay here?--Oh, Svava--!
Svava. No, I cannot accept that--come what may!
Riis. Do not say any more! Svava, I entreat you! Do not make me too
utterly miserable! Remember that never, until to-day--I never thought
to make you--. If you cannot bear to be with me any more--if you
cannot--then let me go away! It is I that am to blame, I know. Listen,
Svava! It must be I, not you! You must stay here!
Mrs. Riis (listening). Good heavens, there is Alfred!
Riis. Alfred! (A pause. ALFRED appears in the doorway.)
Alfred (after a moment). Perhaps I had better go away again?
Riis (to ALFRED). Go away again?--Go away again, did you say?--No, not
on any account! No!--No, you could not have come at a more fortunate
moment! My boy, my dear boy! Thank you!
Mrs. Riis (to SVAVA). Would you rather be alone--?
Svava. No, no, no!
Riis. You want to speak to Svava, don't you? I think it will be best
for me to leave you together. You need to talk things over frankly with
her--to be alone--naturally! You will excuse me, then, if I leave you,
won't you? I have something very important to do in town, so you will
excuse me! I must hurry and change my clothes--so please excuse me!
(Goes into his room.)
Alfred. Oh, but I can come some other time.
Mrs. Riis. But I expect you would like to talk to her now?
Alfred. It is no question of what I would like. I see--and I heard Dr.
Nordan say--that Miss Riis is quite worn out. But I felt it my duty, all
the same, to call.
Svava. And I thank you for doing so! It is more--far more--than I have
deserved. But I want to tell you at once that what happened yesterday--I
mean, the form my behaviour took yesterday--was due to the fact that,
only an hour before then, something had come to my knowledge that I had
never known before. And that was mixed up with it. (She can scarcely
conceal her emotion.)
Alfred. I knew that to-day you would be regretting what happened
yesterday--you are so good. And that was my only hope of seeing you
again.
Riis (coming out of his room partly dressed to go out). Does any one
want anything done in town? If so, I shall be happy to see to it! It
has occurred to me that perhaps these ladies would like to go away for a
little trip somewhere--what do you two say to that? When one's thoughts
are beginning to get a little--what shall I call it?--a little too much
for one, or perhaps I should rather say a trifle too serious, it is
often a wonderful diversion to go away for a little change. I have often
found it so myself--often, I assure you! Just think it over, won't you?
I could see about making plans for you at once, if you think so--eh?
Well, then, good-bye for the present! And--think it over! I think myself
it is such an excellent plan! (Goes out. SVAVA looks at her mother with
a smile, and hides her face in her hands.)
Mrs. Riis. I must go away for a few minutes and--
Svava. Mother!
Mrs. Riis. I really must, dear! I must collect my thoughts. This has
been too much for me. I shall not go farther away than into my room
there (pointing to the room on the left). And I will come back directly.
(SVAVA throws herself into a chair by the table, overcome by her
emotion.)
Alfred. It looks as if we two were to have to settle this matter, after
all.
Svava. Yes.
Alfred. I daresay that you will understand that since yesterday I have
done nothing else but invent speeches to make to you--but now I do not
feel as if it had been of much use.
Svava. It was good of you to come.
Alfred. But you must let me make one request of you, and that from my
heart: Wait for me! Because I know now what will show me the way to your
heart. We had planned out our life together, you and I; and, although I
shall do it alone, I shall carry out our plans unfalteringly. And then
perhaps, some day, when you see how faithful I have been--. I know I
ought not to worry you, least of all to-day. But give me an answer! You
need scarcely say anything--but just give me an answer!
Svava. But what for?
Alfred. I must have it to live on--and the more difficult the prize
is to attain, the better worth living will life be to me. Give me an
answer!
Svava (tries to speak, but bursts into tears). Ah, you see how
everything upsets me to-day. I cannot. Besides, what do you want me to
do? To wait? What would that mean? It would mean being ready and yet
not ready; trying to forget and yet always having it before my mind. (Is
overcome again by her emotion.) No!
Alfred. I see you need to be alone. But I cannot bring myself to go
away. (SVAVA gets up, and tries to regain control over herself. ALFRED
goes to her and throws himself on his knees beside her.) Give me just
one word.
Svava. But do you not understand that if you could give me back once
more the happiness that complete trust gives--do you think I should wait
for you to ask anything of me then? No, I should go to you and thank you
on my knees. Can you doubt that for a moment?
Alfred. No, no!
Svava. But I have not got it.
Alfred. Svava!
Svava. Oh, please--!
Alfred. Good-bye--good-bye! But I shall see you again some day? I shall
see you again? (Turns to go, but stops at the door.) I must have a
sign--something definite to take with me! Stretch out a hand to me! (At
these words SVAVA turns to him and stretches out both her hands to him.
He goes out. MRS. RIIS comes in from her room.)
Mrs. Riis. Did you promise him anything?
Svava. I think so. (Throws herself into her mother's arms.)
End of Project Gutenberg's Three Comedies, by Bjornstjerne M. Bjornson