Early Plays by Henrik Ibsen (ebook pc reader .txt) 📖

rests

prostrate against the stone bench at the left.  A flash of

lightning illuminates the scene and the thunder rolls; during

the following to the close of the act the darkness and the storm

increase.]

 

OLAF.  See, see!  That I like; now do the powers above join in!

Right now will I ride to the church with my bride!  Come,

Mistress Ingeborg!  But first will we drink,--yes, drink, drink!

Bring here the beaker and horn,--not in there--!  Light the

candles in the church!  Let the organ resound; prepare for a

dance--not mournful psalms--fie, fie, no, a dance!

 

[Thunder and lightning.]

 

OLAF.  Ah, it is rumored in heaven that Olaf Liljekrans is

celebrating his wedding!

 

[Rushes out to the right.]

 

ARNE.  Christ save me! his reason is gone!

 

LADY KIRSTEN.  Ah, have no fear; it will soon pass,--I know him.

 

[Draws ARNE aside with her.]

 

ARNE.  [Gently threatening HEMMING in passing.]  O, Hemming,

Hemming!  You are a sly dog!

 

[The GUESTS go quietly and gloomily out to the right; the

SERVANTS to the left.]

 

INGEBORG.  [Detains HEMMING.]  Hemming!  I will not go to church

with Olaf Liljekrans!

 

HEMMING.  Alas, what will prevent it?

 

INGEBORG.  If it comes to that, I shall say no,--no before the

very altar itself, in the presence of all!

 

HEMMING.  Ingeborg!

 

INGEBORG.  Hold my horse saddled and ready!

 

HEMMING.  What!  You will--!

 

INGEBORG.  I will!  Now I know for the first time how dear you

are to me,--now when I stand in danger of losing you.  Go,--do as

I say, and let me know when it is time.

 

[She goes out to the right.]

 

HEMMING.  Yes, now am I strong; now I dare venture whatever it

be!

 

[He goes out to the left.]

OLAF LILJEKRANS_ACT2 SCENE11

 

[ALFHILD.  Later HEMMING, INGEBORG, and others at

various times.]

 

ALFHILD.  [Remains lying motionless for a long time with her face

concealed in her hands.  At length she half raises herself, looks

about bewildered, rises, and speaks with quiet broken laughter.]

One falcon the heavens with plenty may bless,

Another must suffer great want and distress!

One bird wears a coat of feathers so gay,

Another must live contented with gray!

I have known that tears are a balm to the soul,

When the world is nothing but gall;

But now I have suffered such sorrow and dole,

I could laugh myself dead at the thought of it all!

 

[It is now quite dark.  The windows of the church are being

lighted up.  ALFHILD goes over to the house and listens while the

following song is heard faintly within.]

 

CHORUS OF WEDDING GUESTS.

Hail to the bridegroom and hail to the bride!

There's feasting and joy everywhere.

Lord Olaf, all hail! a knight who can ride,

And Ingeborg a lady so fair!

 

HEMMING.  [Steals in from the left during the song.]  The horse

stands saddled and ready!  Now a secret sign to Ingeborg and then

away!

 

[He goes out to the right to the rear of the house.]

 

ALFHILD.  His health from the silvery cup they drink,

The bride sits proudly enthroned at his side;

The candles of wax on the altar now wink,

Soon out to the church they will ride!

Within at the banquet sit host and guest

And laugh as they bandy the merry jest!

But here I must wander alone in the night,

Alas, they have all forsaken me quite!

Olaf!  The storm is rending my hair!

The rain beats against me wherever I fare!

Olaf, Olaf!  Can you see me thus languish

Beneath this unspeakable torture and anguish?

 

[She laughs.]

 

ALFHILD.  But rain or storm is a trifling thing,

'Tis as nothing beside the poignant sting

I suffer within my breast.--

My home and my father and all the rest

I left for Olaf, the friend I loved best!

He swore to me then I should be his bride!

And I came--God's love I felt in my soul;

But he drove me away, he thrust me aside;

So loudly he laughed when I writhed in dole!

While they banquet within, like a dog I must stay

Out here in the storm.  Hence,--hence I will go!

 

[Starts to go, but stops.]

 

ALFHILD.  But I have not the power, I cannot go away;

Here must I stay and suffer my woe!

'Tis little the flowers out there in the wood

Can tear themselves up from the ground!

And Olaf, whether he be false or good,--

About him my roots I have wound.

 

[Pause.--The HOUSE SERVANTS come with torches from the left.]

 

ALFHILD.  [As if seized by an uneasy presentiment.]  Whither do

you go?  Whither, whither?  What is going to happen?

 

A SERVANT.  Why, see, see!  It is Alfhild; she is still here!

 

ALFHILD.  O, tell me this!  What is going to happen,--why all

these preparations?

 

THE SERVANT.  The wedding!  Wouldn't you care to see it?

 

ALFHILD.  [In feverish anxiety.]  The wedding!  O, no, no!  Put

it off, only till tomorrow!  If the wedding is held, then is

everything over with me, I well know!

 

THE SERVANT.  Postpone it!  No, Alfhild!  'Tis not, I'm afraid,

the wish of bridegroom or bride!

 

ANOTHER.  Think for a moment!  Were you yourself but the bride,

you surely would not want to wait.

 

[Laughter.]

 

THE FIRST SERVANT.  Now we go down to the gate at the church to

light the way with red bridal lights when the procession starts

from the house.

 

THE SECOND SERVANT.  Come along with us, Alfhild!  You shall also

have a torch to carry!

 

SEVERAL.  Yes, yes, you must come!  It is Lord Olaf's day of

glory!

 

[Laughter.]

 

ALFHILD.  [Takes one of the torches.]  Yes, yes, I will!  As the

most humble in the row I shall stand down there, and then, when

he sees me, when I ask of him, when I remind him of everything he

has promised and sworn,--O, tell me, tell me, do you not think

that he will be kind to me again?  Do you think so?  O, tell me

you do!  Say that you think so!

 

THE SERVANTS.  Aha,--for certain he will; now come!

 

[They go out to the right to the rear of the house.]

 

ALFHILD.  [Bursts into tears.]

They mock at me, laugh at me,--one and all!

So harsh is not even the mountain wall;

The moss thereon is permitted to grow;

There's no one so kind to me here!  I--I must go!

 

[Thunder and lightning.]

 

ALFHILD.  Ah, heaven itself is angry and grim,

It pours out its wrath on my wretched head;

But flash there is none to annihilate him

Who craftily tricked me in all that he said!

 

[The tones of the organ are heard from within the church.]

 

ALFHILD.  O, listen!  I hear God's angel choir!

'Tis Olaf to the altar they call!

And I must stand here in my ragged attire

And suffer outside the church-hall!

 

[She swings the torch high in the air.]

 

ALFHILD.  No, no, that I will not, thou all-highest God!

O, tempt me no longer, forswear thee I may!

 

[She is silent and listens to the organ music.]

 

ALFHILD.  God's angels are singing!  From under the sod

The dead they were able to carol away!

O, my bosom is bursting with woe!

 

[She kneels and faces the church.]

 

ALFHILD.  Cease, cease your melodies tender and sweet!

O, cease your singing; be kind, I entreat!

Or Olaf to the altar will go!

 

[Whispering and in the greatest apprehension.]

 

ALFHILD.  Be still!  O, be still!  For a little while yet!

He is lulled in a sleep that will make him forget!

O, waken him not, else straight he will hie

To the church--and then, alas, I must die!

 

[The organ grows louder through the storm.  ALFHILD springs up,

beside herself with despair.]

 

The angels of God have forsaken me quite!

They mock at my anguish and woe!

They conjure him forth;--he is now in their might!

Ah, if here in the dark, dark night I must go,

Your bridal chamber at least shall be light!

 

[She throws the torch in through the opening in the gable and

falls down on the ground.--INGEBORG and HEMMING come hurriedly

from behind the house.]

 

HEMMING.  Now it is time.  The horse stands saddled behind the

store house.

 

INGEBORG.  And all the servants are down at the church, are they

not?

 

HEMMING.  Aye, rest you assured; and in the banquet house I have

barred every shutter and door with heavy iron rings; no one can

get out!

 

INGEBORG.  Away, then!  Up to the valley which Alfhild has told

of!

 

HEMMING.  Yes, up there!  There no one will seek us!

 

[They rush out to the left.--ALFHILD continues to lie motionless

for some time.  Suddenly cries and commotion are hear in the

bridal house; the flames break out through the roof.]

 

ALFHILD.  [Jumps up in despair.]

It burns!--Aha,--I remember!  'T was here

Too dark for my soul--it filled me with fear!

Olaf, before it was you who smiled,

Now it is Alfhild, so gay and so wild!--

In the bridal house there is anguish and gloom,

The bride is burning on the arm of the groom!

 

[The HOUSE SERVANTS rush in one by one without torches and stand

as if turned to stone.  OLAF comes into view up in the opening,

which he seeks to widen with desperate efforts.]

 

OLAF.  Alfhild!  'Tis you!  So might I have known!

If only from out of this danger you save me,

'T is silver and gold you shall hereafter own!

 

ALFHILD.  [With wild laughter.]

Too well I remember the promise you gave me!

Now ride to the church with minstrel and priest!

Now hold your wedding,--forget all the rest!

Alfhild has honored you as she knew best,--

The torch she has swung at your bridal feast!

 

[She rushes out at the back.  The SERVANTS hasten to lend their

help; a part of the roof falls in; OLAF is seen high amidst the

flames as the curtain falls.]

ACT3 SCENE1

 

[A sunny valley, rich in flowers, trees, and

vegetation of all kinds, and surrounded by lofty

snow-capped mountains.  In the center of the background

a quiet mountain tarn; on the left side a rocky cliff

which drops straight down to the water.  On the same

side nearer the front of the stage a very old log hut,

almost entirely hidden in the dense shrubbery.  The

glow of dawn shines over the mountains; in the valley

itself the day is only half begun; during the

following scene's the sun rises.]

 

 

 

SCENE I

 

[ALFHILD lies sleeping and half concealed among the

bushes beside the hut; soft music indicates her

shifting dreams.  OLAF comes down the hillside to the

right.  Over his wedding clothes he wears a coarse

cloak.]

 

OLAF.  Here it was; I know the green there this side of the tarn.

It was yonder beneath the linden tree that I dreamed my strange

dream.  On the slope of the mountain there I stood when Alfhild

for the first time came to meet me; I placed my betrothal ring on

the string of my bow and shot;--that shot has proved a magic

shot; it struck the huntsman himself.

 

OLAF.  It is strange that when I wander up here, far from the

village below, it seems as if another atmosphere played around

me, as if a more vigorous blood flowed in my veins, as if I had

another mind, another soul.

 

OLAF.  Where is she now?

 

OLAF.  I shall,--I will find her again!  Up here she must come;

she has no home out there in the cold wide world.  And I--am I

not also a homeless fugitive?  Did I not become a stranger in my

mother's house, a stranger among my kinsmen, the very first hour

I met her?

 

OLAF.  Is she then a witch,--has she power over secret arts as--?

 

OLAF.  My mother!  Hm!  It seems to me it would scarcely be well

for me to allow her to manage my life; she insinuates thoughts

into