SELMA-- Oh, do look!
You are not thinking of the fishes. See!
They follow it through the dimples round and round,
Paddling the current with their little fins,
And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back.
There, by the green stone.
OSWALD-- They are safer there
Than in the current.
SELMA-- See, there's one that still
Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales.
You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh!
(_She runs down to the outlet of the spring by
which the minnow has passed out, and walks up
and down, stooping occasionally to feel among
the stones of the rill. Oswald goes back and
sits down upon the log. After a while Selma
rises and looks toward the spring. The trunk
is between her and Oswald._)
'Twill grieve her so.
(_In a low chant, abstractedly._)
She's sleeping in the spring
Under the dark rock where the white sand pours.
The moss is softer in the forest there,
And there the wood-doves coo.
He's going away; they told me yesterday.
The forest heard them moan: He will not come.
The chestnut burr shall break;
The wild bird, feeding, shake
Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground,
And the hushed forest only hear the sound
Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs.
He's going away--away--away.
(_Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to
Oswald, she unconsciously picks the green
burrs from the branches above her._)
OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._)
Come here; will you?
SELMA-- I'm gathering mast.
My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek.
OSWALD--I want to tell you something.
SELMA-- Tell me here.
If I had listened to the forest birds,
I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat.
OSWALD--'Tis something serious.
SELMA-- Ah, you've been to town.
(_As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in
the air._)
Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald?
You never are gay when you've heard the bells.
We are going to the mountains, _may_ be. Then
You will not hear them. Are there berries there?
Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice.
Think of that. Blue-bells.--You are like my crow.
(_She takes a berry from her basket and holds it up
between her fingers._)
If you will talk, you may.--I must go home.
(_She pulls down a bough and begins to pick the
leaves off, one by one._)
OSWALD--I want you to go with me to the bridge.
SELMA--I can't. I must go home. Father will think
I have been captured by the villagers.
(_She removes her basket from the sun and lays the
leaves upon her berries._)
He said: "You will not find them." But I did.
OSWALD--Sit down.
SELMA-- I can't.--It makes my berries red.
Father will say: "You see? They are not ripe."
(_She goes about under the boughs selecting the
largest of the leaves._)
It makes them black, then makes them red again.
(_After a pause._)
_I_ heard bells ring last night. I dreamed I did.
I called and they called and you would not come.
I thought you could not hear me where you were.
OSWALD--In a great forest once two children lived.
They used to wander about the wood. One day,
Playing among the trees, suddenly they heard
Small voices calling: "Ho, children!" At that--