Three Comedies by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (best short novels of all time .TXT) 📖
- Author: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Svava. Do you take it in that way, too?
Nordan. In that way? Is there any other way for a sensible man to take it? A fine young fellow honesty, adores you; a distinguished family throw their doors wide open to you, as if you were a princess; and then you turn round and say: "You have not waited for me ever since you were a child! Away with you!"
Svava (springing up). What, you too! You too! And the same talk! The same stupid talk!
Nordan. I can tell you what it is; if you do not give consideration to everything that can be said on the other side, you are stupid.--No, it is no use going away from me and marching up and down! I shall begin and march up and down too, if you do! Come here and sit. Or _daren't_ you go thoroughly into the question with me?
Svava. Yes, I dare. (Sits down again.)
Nordan. Well, to begin with, do you not think there must certainly be two sides to a question that is discussed by serious men and women all over the world?
Svava. This only concerns me! And as far as I am concerned there is only one side to it.
Nordan. You do not understand me, child! You shall settle your own affairs ultimately, and nobody else--of course. But suppose what you have to settle is not quite so simple as you think it? Suppose it is a problem that at the present moment is exercising the minds of thousands and thousands of people? Do you not think it is your duty to give some consideration to the usual attitude towards it, and to what is generally thought and said about it? Do you think it is conscientious to condemn in a single instance without doing that?
Svava. I understand! I think I have done what you are urging me to do. Ask mother!
Nordan. Oh, I daresay you and your mother have chattered and read a lot about marriage and the woman question, and about abolishing distinctions of class--now you want to abolish distinctions of sex too. But as regards this special question?
Svava. What do you consider I have overlooked?
Nordan. Just this. Are you right in being equally as strict with men as with women? Eh?
Svava. Yes, of course.
Nordan. Is it so much a matter of course? Go out and ask any one you meet. Out of every hundred you ask, ninety will say "no"--even out of a hundred women!
Svava. Do you think so? I think people are beginning to think otherwise.
Nordan. Possibly. But experience is necessary if one is to answer a question like that.
Svava. Do you mean what you say?
Nordan. That is none of your business. Besides, I always mean what I say.--A woman can marry when is sixteen; a man must wait till he is five-and-twenty, or thirty. There is a difference.
Svava. There _is_ a difference! There are many, many times more unmarried women than men, and they exhibit self-control. Men find it more convenient to make a law of their want of self-control!
Nordan. An answer like that only displays ignorance. Man is a polygamous animal, like many other animals--a theory that is very strongly supported by the fact that women so outnumber men in the world. I daresay that is something you have never heard before?
Svava. Yes, I have heard it!
Nordan. Don't you laugh at science! What else we to put faith in, I should like to know?
Svava. I should just like men to have the same trouble over their children that women do! Just let them have that, Uncle Nordan, and I fancy they would soon change their principles! Just let them experience it!
Nordan. They have no time for that; they have to govern the world.
Svava. Yes, they have allotted the parts themselves!--Now, tell me this, Dr. Nordan. Is it cowardly not to practise what you preach?
Nordan. Of course it is.
Svava. Then why do you not do it?
Nordan. I? I have always been a regular monster. Don't you know that, dear child?
Svava. Dear Uncle Nordan--you have such long white locks; why do you wear them like that?
Nordan. Oh, well--I have my reasons.
Svava. What are they?
Nordan. We won't go into that now.
Svava. You told me the reason once.
Nordan. Did I?
Svava. I wanted, one day, to take hold of your hair, but you would not let me. You said: "Do you know why you must not do that?"--"No," I said.--"Because no one has done that for more than thirty years."--"Who was it that did it last?" I asked.--"It was a little girl, that you are very like," you answered.
Nordan. So I told you that, did I?
Svava. "And she was one of your grandmother's younger sisters," you said to me.
Nordan. She was. It was quite true. And you are like her, my child.
Svava. And then you told me that the year you went to college she was standing beside you one day and caught up some locks of your hair in her fingers. "You must never wear your hair shorter than this," she said. She went away, and you went away; and when, one day, you wrote and asked her whether you two did not belong to one another, her answer was "yes." And a month later she was dead.
Nordan. She was dead.
Svava. And ever since then--you dear, queer old uncle--you have considered yourself as married to her. (He nods.) And ever since the evening you told me that--and I lay awake a long time, thinking over it--I wanted, even when I was quite a young girl, to choose some one I could have perfect confidence in. And then I chose wrong.
Nordan. Did you, Svava?
Svava. Do not ask me any more about that.--Then I chose once again, and this time I was certain! For never had truer eyes looked in mine. And how happy we were together! Day after day it always seemed new, and the days were always too short. I dare not think about now. Oh, it is sinful to deceive us so!--not deceit in words, it is true, but in letting us give them our admiration and our most intimate confidences. Not in words, no--and yet, it is in words; because they accept all we say, and are silent themselves, and by that very fact make our words their own. Our simple-mindedness pleases them as a bit of unspoilt nature, and it is just by means of that that they deceive us. It creates an intimacy between us and an atmosphere of happy give-and-take of jests, which we think can exist only on one presupposition--and really it is all a sham. I cannot understand how any one can so treat the one he loves--for he did love me!
Nordan. He does love you.
Svava (getting up). But not as I loved him! All these years I have not been frittering away my love. Besides, I have had too high an ideal of what loving and being loved should be; and just for that reason I felt a deep desire to be loved--I can say so to you. And when love came, seemed to take all my strength from me; but I felt I should always be safe with him, and so I let him see it and gloried in his seeing it. That is the bitterest part of it to me now--because he was unworthy of it. He has said to me: "I cannot bear to see any one else touch you!" and "When I catch a glimpse of your arm, I think to myself that it has been round my neck--mine, and no one else's in the world." And I felt proud and happy when he said so, because I thought it was true. Hundreds of times I had imagined some one's saying that to me some day. But I never imagined that the one who would say it would be a man who--oh, it is disgusting! When I think what it means, it makes me ready to hate him. The mere thought that he has had his arms round me--has touched me--makes me shudder! I am not laying down rules for any one else, but what I am doing seems to me a matter of course. Every fibre of my being tells me that. I must be left in peace!
Nordan. I see that this is more serious, and goes deeper, than I had any suspicion of. None of them understand it that way, Alfred least of all. He is only hurt--distressed and hurt at the thought that you could distrust him.
Svava. I know that.
Nordan. Yes--well--don't take up such a high and mighty attitude! I assure you that is how it will appear to most people.
Svava. Do you think so? I think people are beginning to think otherwise.
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
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