FALK.

No, I only brood,--

SVANHILD [with thoughtful sympathy].

You seem to be two natures, still at feud,-- Unreconciled--

FALK.

I know it well.

SVANHILD [impetuously].

But why?

FALK [losing self-control].

Why, why? Because I hate to go about With soul bared boldly to the vulgar eye, As Jock and Jennie hang their pa.s.sions out; To wear my glowing heart upon my sleeve, Like women in low dresses. You, alone, Svanhild, you only,--you, I did believe,-- Well, it is past, that dream, for ever flown.--

[She goes to the summer-house and looks out; he follows.

You listen--?

SVANHILD.

To another voice, that sings.

Hark! every evening when the sun's at rest, A little bird floats. .h.i.ther on beating wings,-- See there--it darted from its leafy nest-- And, do you know, it is my faith, as oft As G.o.d makes any songless soul, He sends A little bird to be her friend of friends, And sing for ever in her garden-croft.

FALK [picking up a stone].

Then must the owner and the bird be near, Or its song's squandered on a stranger's ear.

SVANHILD.

Yes, that is true; but I've discovered mine.

Of speech and song I am denied the power, But when it warbles in its leafy bower, Poems flow in upon my brain like wine-- Ah, yes,--they fleet--they are not to be won--

[FALK throws the stone. SVANHILD screams.

O G.o.d, you've hit it! Ah, what have you done!

[She hurries out to the the right and then quickly returns.

O pity! pity!

FALK [in pa.s.sionate agitation].

No,--but eye for eye, Svanhild, and tooth for tooth. Now you'll attend No further greetings from your garden-friend, No guerdon from the land of melody.

That is my vengeance: as you slew I slay.

SVANHILD.

I slew?

FALK.

You slew. Until this very day, A clear-voiced song-bird warbled in my soul; See,--now one pa.s.sing bell for both may toll-- You've killed it!

SVANHILD.

Have I?

FALK.

Yes, for you have slain My young, high-hearted, joyous exultation-- [Contemptuously.

By your betrothal!

SVANHILD.

How! But pray explain--!

FALK.

O, it's in full accord with expectation; He gets his licence, enters orders, speeds to A post,--as missionary in the West--

SVANHILD [in the same tone].

A pretty penny, also, he succeeds to;-- For it is Lind you speak of--?

FALK.

You know best Of whom I speak.

SVANHILD [with a subdued smile].

As the bride's sister, true, I cannot help--

FALK.

Great G.o.d! It is not you--?

SVANHILD.

Who win this overplus of bliss? Ah no!

FALK [with almost childish joy].

It is not you! O G.o.d be glorified!

What love, what mercy does He not bestow!

I shall not see you as another's bride;-- 'Twas but the fire of pain He bade me bear-- [Tries to seize her hand.

O hear me, Svanhild, hear me then--

SVANHILD [pointing quickly to the background].

See there!

[She goes towards the house. At the same moment MRS. HALM, ANNA, MISS JAY, GULDSTAD, STIVER, and LIND emerge from the background. During the previous scene the sun has set; it is now dark.

MRS. HALM [to SVANHILD].

The Strawmans may be momently expected.

Where have you been?

MISS JAY [after glancing at FALK].

Your colour's very high.

SVANHILD.

A little face-ache; it will soon pa.s.s by.

MRS. HALM.

And yet you walk at nightfall unprotected?