Hadda Pada | Page 4

resist it. ... Why do you suppose the new engineer has stopped
coming here since the son of the Chief Justice returned from
Copenhagen--and he seemed like such a sweet boy too! It is not the
first or the second time she has changed her mind.
HADDA PADDA. When a true and deep love comes to her, she will
not change her mind.
RANNVEIG. It's no use to stand up for her; she wheedles them all.
HADDA PADDA. But still you told me, dear, that you would be
fonder of me if I did not marry.
RANNVEIG. How can you say that, Hadda dear? I said that marriage
doesn't always bring happiness. HADDA PADDA. I know. You told
me that only to console me, because I am now twenty-six years old.
Runa is nineteen, prettier than most girls, and a wild little imp,
surrounded by young men all the time. And they play upon her vanity
only to make her cruel. [Stands up.]
RANNVEIG. At her age you were prettier, and are, still, but you were
not like that. No, she hasn't your character.
KRISTRUN [enters from behind]. The prince is coming! [Rannveig
gathers her knitting, and drops the yarn. Kristrun jumps at it like a cat,
and catches it.] Now I'll dance for you, Veiga dear. [She whirls around
her, singing, yarn in hand, twisting the thread around the old woman.
They listen for footsteps. Rannveig slips out, on the right, entangled in
the yarn, Kristrun following.]
INGOLF [enters. Like Hadda, he is sunburnt].
HADDA PADDA. How do you do! You promised to be here earlier,
dear. [Kisses him.]
INGOLF. What time is it? [About to take out his watch.]
HADDA PADDA [catching his hands]. I don't know. But I felt the
moment slipping by, when you should have been here.
INGOLF [kisses her again].
HADDA PADDA. While I was sitting there, in the arm-chair, waiting
for you, I closed my eyes, and do you know what I saw?
INGOLF. No.

HADDA PADDA [pointing to the crystal]. I saw the crystal ball
through my eyelashes.
INGOLF [smiling]. Then you did not close your eyes--
HADDA PADDA. No, I cheated. [They laugh.] ... and then I began to
throw the crystal ball to Runa, do you know why?
INGOLF. No--?
HADDA PADDA. So as to lure back an old recollection. ... Do you
remember, it was your last winter at the Latin school. One day you
came home, and we two were alone in the room here, you took the ball,
threw it to me, and called: WISHING--! I caught it, and said:--STONE!
And so we continued to play, till you called HADDA! I didn't quite
follow your trick at first, but caught the word: PADDA! Then you
laughed and said: From now on, you shall never be called anything but
HADDA PADDA. Do you remember?
INGOLF. I do.
HADDA PADDA. Everybody calls me that now, except my nurse.
RANNVEIG [peeping in through the curtain]. Don't let me hear that
name. Hf! Padda! That's an insect! [Disappears.]
HADDA PADDA [walks gently forth, and rolls the door back]. Then I
asked you what christening gift I was to have. You gave me your first
kiss.
INGOLF [sits down on the divan, takes Hadda on his knee]. Hadda
Padda! You don't know how I love that name. You don't know how
many times I have wrapped you in it, as in some fantastic mantle. After
you had left Copenhagen last spring, and I sat reading all the live-long
day, until at last I went to bed, my lips did not close on your name, till
my eyes had closed on your picture.
HADDA PADDA. You must never call me anything but that. Each
time you say it, it brings back the joy of your first kiss.
INGOLF. Were you really in love with me then?
HADDA PADDA. You don't know? ... Then I did succeed in hiding it?
INGOLF. Why did you hide it, Hadda? Why, I almost believed you
bore me a grudge. You seemed to hold more aloof each day.
HADDA PADDA. And even that did not betray me?
INGOLF. Why did you hide it, Hadda?
(Footsteps are heard outside.)
HADDA PADDA [kisses Ingolf hastily, gets up, and seats herself at his

side, takes his hand]. Don't you understand, dear, I was afraid of
knowing the certainty. The stronger my love grew, the more carefully I
had to hide it. I dared not risk those beautiful dream-children of
uncertainty for a disguised certainty. Whenever we talked together, and
you looked up at me, I was startled. I thought you understood, and your
hurried glance reached me only after the fear of seeing the answer in it.
INGOLF. You, the most sincere of women, could cherish so strong a
love and seem so