Henrik Ibsens Prose Dramas, Vol III. | Page 7

to
Trondhiem, and unknown shall he be our guest at Ostrat.
ELINA. And the name of this Danish lord----?
LADY INGER. It sounds well, Elina; Denmark has scarce a nobler
name.
ELINA. But what do you propose then? I cannot yet grasp your
meaning.
LADY INGER. You will soon understand.--Since we cannot trample
on the serpent, we must bind him.
ELINA. Take heed that he burst not your bonds.
LADY INGER. It rests with you to tighten them as you will.
ELINA. With me?

LADY INGER. I have long seen that Ostrat is as a cage to you. The
young falcon chafes behind the iron bars.
ELINA. My wings are clipped. Even if you set me free--it would avail
me little.
LADY INGER. Your wings are not clipped, except by your own will.
ELINA. Will? My will is in your hands. Be what you once were, and I
too----
LADY INGER. Enough, enough. Hear what remains---- It would
scarce break your heart to leave Ostrat?
ELINA. Maybe not, my mother!
LADY INGER. You told me once, that you lived your happiest life in
tales and histories. What if that life were to be yours once more?
ELINA. What mean you?
LADY INGER. Elina--if a mighty noble were now to come and lead
you to his castle, where you should find damsels and pages, silken
robes and lofty halls awaiting you?
ELINA. A noble, you say?
LADY INGER. A noble.
ELINA (more softly). And the Danish envoy comes here to-night?
LADY INGER. To-night.
ELINA. If so be, then I fear to read the meaning of your words.
LADY INGER. There is nought to fear if you misread them not. Be
sure it is far from my thought to put force upon you. You shall choose
for yourself in this matter, and follow your own counsel.

ELINA (comes a step nearer). Have you heard the story of the mother
that drove across the hills by night with her little children by her in the
sledge? The wolves were on her track; it was life or death with
her;--and one by one she cast out her little ones, to gain time and save
herself.
LADY INGER. Nursery tales! A mother would tear the heart from her
breast, before she would cast her child to the wolves!
ELINA. Were I not my mother's daughter, I would say you were right.
But you are like that mother; one by one you have cast out your
daughters to the wolves. The eldest went first. Five years ago Merete*
went forth from Ostrat; now she dwells in Bergen and is Vinzents
Lunge's** wife. But think you she is happy as the Danish noble's lady?
Vinzents Lunge is mighty, well-nigh as a king; Merete has damsels and
pages, silken robes and lofty halls; but the day has no sunshine for her,
and the night no rest; for she has never loved him. He came hither and
he wooed her; for she was the greatest heiress in Norway, and he
needed to gain a footing in the land. I know it; I know it well! Merete
bowed to your will; she went with the stranger lord.--But what has it
cost her? More tears than a mother should wish to answer for at the day
of reckoning.
* Pronounce Mayrayte ** Pronounce Loonghe.
LADY INGER. I know my reckoning, and I fear it not.
ELINA. Your reckoning ends not here. Where is Lucia, your second
child?
LADY INGER. Ask God, who took her.
ELINA. It is you I ask; it is you that must answer for her young life.
She was glad as a bird in spring when she sailed from Ostrat to be
Merete's guest. A year passed, and she stood in this room once more;
but her cheeks were white, and death had gnawed deep into her breast.
Ah, you wonder at me, my mother! You thought that the ugly secret
was buried with her;--but she told me all. A courtly knight had won her

heart. He would have wedded her. You knew that her honour was at
stake; yet your will never bent--and your child had to die. You see, I
know all!
LADY INGER. All? Then she told you his name?
ELINA. His name? No; his name she did not tell me. His name was a
torturing horror to her;--she never uttered it.
LADY INGER (relieved, to herself). Ah, then you do not know all----
---- Elina--it is true that the whole of this matter was well known to me.
But there is one thing about it you seem not to have noted. The lord
whom Lucia met in Bergen was a Dane----
ELINA. That too I know.
LADY INGER. And his love was a lie. With guile and soft speeches he
had ensnared her.
ELINA. I know it;