(The following summer. A drawing-room in the Sheriff's house. The furniture old-fashioned and elaborate. On the left, a door leading to the dining-room. Against the wall, in front, a piano. On the right, under a window, a chaise-longue. In the back, an open window, through which can be seen green meadows, rising to a plateau, over the edge of which roars a water-fall. At the horizon, deep blue mountains. Bright sunshine, a hot summer's day.)

(In the middle of the room, around a table, set for coffee, the Sheriff and Lady Margaret, Olof and Steindor, Ingolf, Hrafnhild and Kristrun are sitting. The children, Little Skuli, Sigga, Doddi and Magga are seated at a small table near the window.)

OLOF [to the children]. You may go out now, children.

THE CHILDREN [rise].

SIGGA [To Olof]. Mother, when may we go berry-picking with Hadda Padda?

HADDA PADDA [smiles at the children]. We'll go next Sunday.

OLOF. Now go out and play! It's such lovely weather!

STEINDOR. And you may build your little play-house, but not in the part that isn't mowed.

SKULI. Come along, children!

DODDI. Come along! [The children go out.]

HADDA PADDA. I had a letter from my friend Helga to-day. She writes she is coming to see me for the week-end.

THE SHERIFF. We expect quite a few people over the week-end. I had a letter from Arni, the tourist guide, who says he'll be here with six tourists next Sunday.

STEINDOR. How are we going to accommodate all these people?

LADY MARGARET. Yes, it is true, every summer we have more and more guests. But, what difference does it make—The rooms of Breidabol are still large enough.

OLOF [to Steindor]. You can room with Ingolf for the present. [To Hadda.] And I'll move in with you. Then we'll have an extra room.

THE SHERIFF. My, but will you really be here three weeks to-morrow? It's so good to have both sisters at the same time. You haven't been here together since you were tiny little tots—just so high!

KRISTRUN. I would have been here last year, if I hadn't been sick.

THE SHERIFF.... Well, let's not lose any more time, [Gets up] Steindor, we are behind in our work. [They go out. Then all get up. Ingolf goes over to the arm-chair near the window, and sits down.]

LADY MARGARET [going out]. Will you clear the table, Olla dear.

HADDA PADDA [assists Olof]. Shall we all go for a walk now? It's a glorious day!

OLOF [taking the coffee things into the dining-room]. Yes, I just have some time to spare.

KRISTRUN. I'm not going out again, I've just come in.

HADDA PADDA [taking Ingolf's hand]. You look so tired to-day.... Shall we go?

INGOLF. It's cooler indoors.

HADDA PADDA [in the same tone, as if she had not addressed Ingolf]. Olof, shall we go?

OLOF. Yes, Hadda dear. [Takes her arm—they go. Ingolf leans back in the arm-chair and closes his eyes.]

KRISTRUN [jumps on top of the chaise-longue, swings her arms crying]. Ingolf! Ride me pickaback! Right now! [Ingolf looks at her, smiling, casts a glance at the door and through the window, as he approaches the chaise-longue. Kristrun sits gracefully down on his shoulder. Her dress is drawn rather tightly, so that one of her legs shows. He takes hold of her leg to support her, and starts walking around the table.]

KRISTRUN [raises her head and looks into his eyes]. Will you be a good boy and take hold above the dress. [Lets go, and raises herself.] You silly boy, do you think you may hold me by my leg?

INGOLF. Well—I don't want to hold you by your leg!

KRISTRUN [grasps him around the shoulder]. You silly boy! Do you think you can lower your shoulder! I'm falling, I'm falling, hold on to my leg! [Ingolf walks on. They hear footsteps.]

KRISTRUN [about to spring down]. Somebody's coming! Oh, it's only the children. [Doddi and Skuli appear in the doorway.]

DODDI. Isn't father here? [The boys begin to laugh.]

KRISTRUN [clicks with her tongue]. There!—Now my horse must run!—Now run, my colt! [Strokes his hair.] If he is spirited, I'll call him Goldmane!—Ge-yap! Ge-yap!... He doesn't want to be called Goldmane? Skuli, hand me my whip, in the corner there, right by the sideboard. [Points into the dining-room.]

LITTLE SKULI. To beat Ingolf! No indeed!

KRISTRUN. Doddi dear, you do it! [Doddi runs for the whip, and gives it to her. She swings the whip around, so that it whizzes in the air. As Ingolf passes the piano, she runs the knob of the whip along the key-board.]

LITTLE SKULI. Let's go, Doddi. [They go out.]

KRISTRUN. Are you tired?

INGOLF. I seem to feel lighter, in holding you on my shoulder.

KRISTRUN. Hf—! Lighter?

INGOLF. Yes, certainly!

KRISTRUN. Hf—! In carrying me?

INGOLF. In feeling the weight of your body. In that way, I could bear you to the end of the world.

KRISTRUN [hops down, looks straight into his eyes]. Really now, I refuse to listen to such foolishness.... Only look kindly at me once, instead of bearing me to the end of the world. [Sits down.]

INGOLF. Kindly!—Kristrun, do I deserve the cruelty you have shown me these last days.—Every moment of the day you have felt my soul streaming out to you, yet you choose the most common terms to describe my feelings, and pretend not to recognize them. I have been inventing new pet-names for you all the time, so that no one should have as pretty a name as you, so that you should have a prettier name to-day than you had yesterday. You pretend not to hear them. I have shown you every tenderness, but by your pretence you keep it at sword's length from you. You have been torturing me in this way now for three days.... Look kindly at you! Why, every time I look at you, you see my eyes shine through a tear-filled dimness...

KRISTRUN. Have you seen it in the glass?

INGOLF [keeps silent for a while, bites his lips, turns away from her]. Some women should not be allowed to be pretty.

KRISTRUN [laughs, dangling her foot]. Quite right. But men in turn, ought to be obliged to be handsome—otherwise they are disgusting.

INGOLF. Kristrun! Is it quite impossible to talk seriously with you? Is there nothing so sacred to you that you wouldn't ridicule it?

KRISTRUN. Well—?

INGOLF. No, I suppose there is not.

KRISTRUN.... Perhaps more than you think.

INGOLF. Why do you let me suffer, then? Haven't I confessed my love to you?

KRISTRUN. No, you haven't.

INGOLF [sits down at her side. While he speaks she sits erect in the chair, her hands folded in her lap, her head raised. A bright smile plays on her half-open lips. It is as if she were listening to a beautiful tale]. Are you waiting for me to say just the words: I love you! Weren't there moments when I made a greater confession, when one sigh, one glance, told you more than these words? But you are not satisfied with hearing a love like the fluttering of wings in the dead of night, you want to hear it sound like a clarion call in your ears: I love you, I love you! ... To-day I saw you standing at the piano, there; each feature in your face was in repose, each move blended softly into fine lines. I saw you as one of those works of art of an ancient master, which could lure the infidel to believe in the resurrection of the body. What was my surprise, when I saw you move, and walk across the floor!... Even your dress, altering its folds with the rhythm of your step, becomes mysterious, like the sea—floating, as it were, with life itself.... Only that fleeting sparkle from your eyes as you roll them upward... Or when you are lying down, and you stretch your foot out—so supple, that the tension on your arch makes your instep seem higher... And then your everlasting vivacity: when you laugh, the air seems to float with tiny fairies ... I love you, Kristrun, only you, you, you. [Kristrun still gazes into space, dreamily. Ingolf reaches hesitatingly for her hand; discreetly, she withdraws it.]

INGOLF [gets up]. Did you lie to me, Kristrun? The other night, when I told you, without speaking, for the first time, just as plainly as now with words, that I loved you: we heard footsteps, you ran away, you turned around and kissed me, and disappeared—did this sweet kiss then lie, was it only a moment's impulse that played with a sacred feeling?

KRISTRUN. It was not, Ingolf.

INGOLF. But—?

KRISTRUN. It was a moment's impulse that played with a moment's impulse.

INGOLF. Perhaps for you, but not for me.

KRISTRUN. I thought your silent confession that evening was sincere. The next day, I overheard a conversation between you and Hrafnhild, you didn't know I was there. Perhaps she has noticed the change in you. She used her voice, her intelligence, her beauty, her whole appeal, to get your caresses. And she got them, many and warm.

INGOLF. You yourself say that I have changed. You yourself say that I love you.

KRISTRUN. I myself say that you must choose between us.

INGOLF. My heart has chosen, Kristrun. And now my hand chooses. [He slowly takes the ring off his finger.] Are you satisfied now?

KRISTRUN. Why do you ask so sadly? Do you do this half-heartedly? ... I don't know whether I can trust you. Only yesterday, when she called you away from me, my heart throbbed with joy. The air about me sang: It is you he loves! But after a while, when she came out, she passed me with a look of supremacy in her eyes. I saw it, I saw it... you are completely in her power.

INGOLF. Before the sun sets to-night, you will have to take back those words.

KRISTRUN. I fear the strength of her words when she pleads her own cause. It is as though she could charm you into her power by some magic. Do you know what she did yesterday? She came up to me afterwards, and tried to arouse my anger, and so sure was she of her victory, that she gloried in it. She said that I could flirt with any one I wanted—she held the love of the finest man in Iceland.

INGOLF. Now do you think she said it because she was so sure?

KRISTRUN [does not answer]. "SHE held the love of the finest man in Iceland!..." Do you love me, Ingolf?

INGOLF. You don't need to ask, Kristrun.

KRISTRUN. Do you love me?

INGOLF. I love you.

KRISTRUN [runs to the chaise-longue, and throws herself upon it; she sobs audibly].

INGOLF. What is the matter with you, Kristrun?

KRISTRUN. Why don't you take me in your arms?

INGOLF. Now I am—Do you still doubt? I lived behind a dark, dark wall. Through a crack in the wall a streak of light came in. I loved this streak. Then one day the wall tumbled down, and I bathed in a white sea of sunshine. Now I see that I only cared for Hrafnhild because of the natural likeness between you.

KRISTRUN. Do you think I would ever have let you suspect that I cared for you, if I did not know that you had stopped loving Hrafnhild. I began to care for you a long time ago, Ingolf. When I saw how happy Hrafnhild was, it seemed to dawn upon me how splendid you are. Every one envied her. You can imagine how I tried to crush my love. But it grew stronger each day,—it grew like a thorn into my heart. Yet, that did not matter. As long as I knew you loved Hrafnhild, I felt a greater obligation to my sister than to my love. But not any longer. Even were I to sacrifice all now, what would she gain, since you don't care for her?

INGOLF. I'll try to break off our engagement as gently as possible.

KRISTRUN. You promised to do it, before the sun sets to-night.

INGOLF. Surely, when I tell her I don't love her, she won't try to hold me any longer.

KRISTRUN [looks at him suspiciously. In order to evade her glance, he bends over and takes her in his arms].

INGOLF. I will raise you, slowly and carefully, like a cup brimful of intoxicating wine. [Kisses her a long time. Raises her up. They hear footsteps outside, and listen.]

INGOLF. It is Hrafnhild. [Loosens his embrace.]

KRISTRUN [throws her arms around his neck, and clings to him]. Why don't you want her to see?

INGOLF [trying to free himself]. You are not so heartless, Kristrun!

HADDA PADDA [opens the door. In her hand, she has a bouquet of violets, freshly gathered. A subdued smile lights up her face. As soon as she looks in, her features become distorted with horror. She takes half a step backwards, holding her hand before her eyes, as if to ward off a blow. A feeble cry, filled with pain, as if torn by force from the throat is expressed in the word No!]

KRISTRUN. It is I you love! It is I you love!

INGOLF [tears himself away]. Let me talk to Hrafnhild alone.

Hadda Padda stands motionless in the doorway, so that Kristrun has to pass her.

INGOLF. May I close the door and talk to you? [Hadda Padda moves within the door frame, and leans against it.]

INGOLF. Hadda, you have seen now that I am no longer worthy of your love.

HADDA PADDA. I have seen nothing. [Throws the bouquet on the table, and sits down on the chaise-longue, with her face turned toward the window.]

INGOLF. Don't say that, Hrafnhild. Even forgiveness demands return, and I cannot return yours.

HADDA PADDA [Her whole frame trembling].

INGOLF. I didn't think you could mistake my attitude these last few days. [Both keep silent.]

INGOLF. But now-? from to-day on, you must try to forget me.

HADDA PADDA [gets up]. Forget—? why should I forget my lover?

INGOLF. Because he cannot be your lover any longer.

HADDA PADDA. Yes, he can; he promised. He promised to love me all my life.

INGOLF. He did not know what he promised.

HADDA PADDA [sees Ingolf's hand without the ring, grasps it with horror, whispers]. What have you done?—Ingolf, it cannot be true. It is not she you love. I saw you push her from you, when she clung about your neck. Say she told you a lie, when she cried. Only say something—say that suddenly an earthquake came, and she threw herself in your arms from fear. I'll believe you.

INGOLF [shakes his head.]

HADDA PADDA. Ingolf, how could you be so hard? [Hides her face.] Any other, any other—but she! [Weeps bitterly.]

INGOLF. It is not that, Hrafnhild. Now let us talk calmly. Even if you could, would you continue to be tied to a man who does not love you any longer?

HADDA PADDA. She has separated us. She has caught you in the net of her wantonness. You, too, Ingolf, you, too.... When I looked at you, you could see my love in my eyes. But she, she looked at you through a veil of wantonness, so that your imagination might create what it liked behind it—? was that what attracted you? I gave you all that I had. She took back with the left hand what she had given with her right—was that what attracted you? Ingolf, do you value such a character? Don't you know how she is? I know you think she loves you. So she has told them all. Her love is a remorseless beast of prey. She does not even spare her sister, though she knows you are the only man I ever loved. But she MUST have this triumph—this one, too. Are you going to yield to it?

INGOLF. You are mistaken, Hrafnhild. It is not she who parts us. I feel that even if she did not exist, I could no longer love you as before.

HADDA PADDA. Haven't I seen you in each other's arms? Had it been any one else, Ingolf, any one else, I might have tried to bear it; but SHE, in YOUR arms, that thought I cannot endure... I have no enemy but her. The blood that flows in her veins deceives. It understands the secrets of kinship, and knows what weapons can beat me.... She was but a little girl when I saw the smile of the conqueror in her look, if she felt that young men who called on us paid her greater attentions than me. But it did not touch me. I was no rival. In my heart, there was only place for you. Don't you see what life would be for me, should she triumph now, too.

INGOLF [keeps silent.]

HADDA PADDA [kneels down, grasping his knee]. Ingolf, for nine years have I run up the stairs at home, just as you did, on the day you went away—two steps at a time.

INGOLF. Get up, Hrafnhild. [He moves a step nearer to the door. Hadda is dragged along on her knees.]

HADDA PADDA [strokes her hand over his knee]. Ingolf, Ingolf,—

INGOLF [takes a step back]. Get up, Hrafnhild.

HADDA PADDA. Ingolf, I laid bare my love, to clothe yours. I did it, so that no one could take you from me. Do you remember when I gave you all a woman can give? The past closed behind me, and I was a different being. I took your head in both my hands. "Now you must always be kind to me," I said. "Always," you said. You are not kind to me now, Ingolf. Had you not stripped me of the only support which a woman must have to bear life alone, I might have been able to endure it. But you have awakened passions hidden in me, from the very depths of my nature. Whenever you were away, they cried out for you with voices like children.

INGOLF. Stop, Hrafnhild. I gave you my word, it is true; but since I no longer care for you, will you still hold me to an old promise that was made when I loved you? HADDA PADDA [gets up]. Not an old one, Ingolf. You aren't telling the truth now. [Pointing out of the window.] Is it old, the water that flows down the river? Hasn't every day we have lived together been a renewal of this promise?

INGOLF. Maybe, but one day the water stopped flowing.

HADDA PADDA. Now you have spoken the terrible truth. Your love was not rich enough, and you knew it from the first. You are not deceiving me to-day. You deceived me the day you made me believe that you loved me, but you were not strong enough to be sincere. You felt that the burning love of a devoted woman would give you a new spirit; that is why you betrayed me. [Sinks bending over the table, bursting into tears.]

INGOLF. You accuse yourself with these angry words. Why did you accept this insincerity for so long?

HADDA PADDA. Because I saw it too late. My soul was spirited up into the mountain, so that no disappointment could take me from you. But so it was. Often when you were satiated with pleasure, you failed to show me any regard. What could I do? Nothing but continue to believe that I would keep your love alive by the strength of my own. I know now, why you didn't dare to meet my look openly. Ingolf, you knew from the beginning, that you might meet a woman you could love more, but meanwhile you took me, intending to turn from me when that time came. [Weeps.] If only I had never known you.

INGOLF. I remember a great many times—you said that you didn't understand how rich life was before you knew me, and that whatever fate would be, you would never regret having given yourself to me. Now I know how sincerely you meant those words.

HADDA PADDA. You don't hear how cruel your words are.—I know, Ingolf, I said it. I said it when I couldn't control my tongue for gladness. But we never know ourselves until we stand on the edge between joy and sorrow, and now, having touched happiness, I cannot live without grasping it. I cannot, Ingolf, I cannot live without you.

INGOLF. Could you get any happiness out of life with a man who does not love you?

HADDA PADDA [silent, gets up, and walks up to the piano, leaning heavily against it].

INGOLF [takes out the ring, and puts it on the table].

HADDA PADDA [does not stir]. Ingolf, this is my last request. Don't make our separation harder than necessary. I cannot remain in your home when they all know it. Do me the favor of wearing the ring till I leave for home. You won't have to wait long. Will you promise me that?

INGOLF [holds the ring in his hand without answering].

HADDA PADDA. This is my last request.

INGOLF. I promise. [Puts the ring on his hand.]

HADDA PADDA [watches him as he puts it on].

CURTAIN

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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