SCENE: _The living-room of_ LOFDALA, _a Swedish manor house. It
is the afternoon before Christmas and the room has an atmosphere
of comfort and warmth; outside it is snowing. To the left is a
large Swedish fireplace, with its hanging black chimney-hood,
crane and shining kettles. A high wooden bench, a table and
armchair are drawn close to the fire. A heavy, iron-hinged door
opens outdoors at the center back. On either side are windows. At
the left a door leads into the kitchen, and at the right a flight
of stairs leads to the bedrooms. By the stairs stands a Christmas
tree as yet unlighted. There is a music cabinet against the back
wall, left; and an oblong table at the right; a carved wooden
chest stands beside the fireplace._
TIME: _about 1890_.
OLGA _is discovered arranging candles on the tree. She
is slender and moderately tall, with large eyes and rich dark
hair braided about her head. She wears Swedish holiday dress._
(_Enter_ OSWALD _and_ SIGURD, _running downstairs with their
hands full of cotton. They are six and four years old_, OSWALD
_being a little the taller. They are bright-faced, tow-headed
little boys, and are dressed in their embroidered holiday
suits._ OSWALD _stops halfway down, and leaning over the
banisters drops bits of cotton on the tree_.)
OSWALD. See, Mother, it’s snowing.
SIGURD. Look, Mother--it’s snowing. (_Turns at the foot of the stairs
and runs back to_ OSWALD.)
OSWALD. Don’t make such big flakes, Sigurd.
SIGURD. But I’m making it snow hard.
OSWALD. Oh, look, that fell on a candle.
OLGA. We need some more snow over here. Come down and make it snow on
these branches.
OSWALD. But, Mother, we need some most on this side--like this.
SIGURD. Where is Father?
OLGA. He has gone out with Torstein in the sledge to gather green
boughs to make the house look like Christmas.
SIGURD. It’ll soon be Christmas, Mother. When can we light the candles?
OLGA. When Father comes home. Have we used up all the snow, Oswald?
OSWALD. Yes, I will get some more. (_Starts upstairs._) Oh! (_Draws
back as he discovers_ RUSTER, _who has just entered and is standing on
the landing. He is unkempt and his shabby, black coat is buttoned up
to his chin. His eyes are small and blurred and his dark hair stands
out like a cloud about his head. But he is not wholly unattractive. His
features are well-formed and his black mustache is twirled at a proud
angle. He carries his music pen and manuscript. His voice is cracked
and harsh._)
OLGA. (_Looking up_) Why, Ruster!
RUSTER. (_Shivering_) I thought you might be having punch. My bones
are frozen working up in that cold room. It would take a taste of
hell-fire to warm me up. (_Drinking from his flask._)
OLGA. (_Turning toward the boys--raising her hand as if to silence_
RUSTER) The punch has not been made yet, Ruster. Children, have you
forgotten your Christmas cookies? Halla will help you make them if you
run out to her.
OSWALD. Oh, I know what I want to make.
SIGURD. What, Oswald?--What?
OSWALD. I want a raisin in mine. (_Pushing open the door._) Can I,
Halla?
(_Exeunt to kitchen._ OLGA _crosses to_ RUSTER.)
OLGA. If you are cold, Ruster, why not stay here by the fire and copy
your music? Is there much more to do?
RUSTER. (_Seating himself and arranging pages_) Liljekrona says there
is no hurry. When will he be home?
OLGA. As soon as he has filled the sledge with boughs, for he knows we
need him here on Christmas Eve. (_She goes to the window. Sleighbells
are heard._) There they are, coming up the drive. We must have some
place to put the branches. (_She spreads a cloth on the floor._ RUSTER
_steals a drink from his flask. The door opens. Enter_ LILJEKRONA. _He
is a tall, finely erect man, clad in a heavy fur coat that is covered
with snow. As he takes off his cap, he discloses a mass of light hair
brushed back from an unusually high forehead. His face is at once
sensitive and strong. He carries a load of boughs._) Well, what an
armful you have!
LILJEKRONA. (_Gaily_) Tell the children I have brought home the whole
forest for our Christmas.
OLGA. Put down your forest over here. Was it very cold?
LILJEKRONA. There has been a fine flurry all morning. (OLGA _helps him
off with his coat_.) But the fire feels good!
RUSTER. This is the warmest place in the house.
LILJEKRONA. How is it going? (_Looking over_ RUSTER’S _shoulder_.) You
haven’t forgotten how a page ought to look, have you, Ruster?
RUSTER. No, I can copy, but I cannot play. I have almost forgotten the
sound of my flute. Nobody wants a flute-player nowadays! They do not
care for music any more in Varmland and they do not want to learn.
LILJEKRONA. Yes, Varmland is not like Ekeby when we knew it.
RUSTER. It’s a pity we ever left there, Liljekrona! We have never had
such playing since--you with your violin and I with my flute. Old
Torwaldson waving his angry stick! By Heaven, he called the souls out
of us!
LILJEKRONA. Yes, the violins sobbing--then the horns, the winds, the
basses--each breaking over the other in thundering waves.
RUSTER. Holy Mother!--that was living!
LILJEKRONA. And from one patron off on the road to another, and along
the way, what gay evenings in the tent and at the inn when a man was
free from care!
RUSTER. How you could play then! Shall I forget that night in Olaf’s
garden? You made your fiddle sing as though your heart were in tune
with its strings. But now, Christ’s blood! you never play like that.
OLGA. He plays more beautifully now than he ever did at Ekeby.
LILJEKRONA. No, there is not so much time for practice here.
RUSTER. And the old spirit has gone out of you.
LILJEKRONA. I sometimes think so myself. It is hard to settle down
after a life of wandering. Something wild keeps crying in my soul,
bidding me be off again.
OLGA. Why is not home the place for music, Liljekrona? Surely those who
love you most care most to hear. Must you seek your inspiration from
strangers?
LILJEKRONA. No, Olga, you are more to me than a world of strangers. It
is you alone who hold me here.
RUSTER. Yes--you have a warm fire and a full cellar to keep you at
home. (LILJEKRONA _shrugs and turns away impatiently_.) But what about
the man who has not money enough to fill his flask? (_Bitterly._) My
horse, and carriole, and fur coat--they’re all gone! (_Drinks, then
laughs boisterously._) But still I have friends--lots of friends in
Varmland, and they’re always glad to see me and give me a cup of cheer!
(_He drains his flask and wipes his mustache with the back of his
hand._ LILJEKRONA _rises disgustedly and crosses the room_.)
OLGA. (_Pointedly_) Have you more copying to do still, Ruster?
RUSTER. (_Blinking at her_) The “Folksong” is almost finished. I was
thinking, Liljekrona--that when that is done, there are two others you
showed me yesterday, that would go well with this.
LILJEKRONA. It is better alone.
RUSTER. But those two shepherd songs. I took the book to my room. Wait
till I bring it down. (_He rises unsteadily. Exit._)
OLGA. (_Going to_ LILJEKRONA) Liljekrona, don’t give him more copying,
or we shall be obliged to keep him over Christmas.
LILJEKRONA. He must be somewhere.
OLGA. Our Christmas is spoiled if he stays. He is so dirty and he
drinks so. And think how bad it is for the children.
LILJEKRONA. But he is an old friend.
OLGA. Yet on Christmas Eve--we have kept thinking how happy we should
be, telling stories and dancing about the tree. And you would play
our favorite tunes. (_She looks wistfully about the partly decorated
room._) But now all the pleasure is gone if Ruster stays!
LILJEKRONA. Formerly you were glad to see him.
OLGA. Yes--we all were. But not since he has become a drunkard. And,
Liljekrona, I am afraid----
LILJEKRONA. Afraid of what, dear?
OLGA. (_Impetuously_) Let him go somewhere else for Christmas.
LILJEKRONA. How can we send him away? It would be inhospitable. Nobody
wants him any more than we do.
OLGA. But the children, Liljekrona.
(_Enter_ RUSTER _with book_.)