Loves Comedy | Page 8

No blossom on its barren branches blows. You should have seen last year with what brave airs It staggered underneath its world of pears.
FALK [uncertain]. No doubt, but what's the moral you impute?
SVANHILD [with finesse]. O, among other things, the bold unreason Of modern Zacharies who seek for fruit. If the tree blossom'd to excess last season, You must not crave the blossoms back in this.
FALK. I knew you'd find your footing in the ways Of old romance.
SVANHILD. Yes, modern virtue is Of quite another stamp. Who now arrays Himself to battle for the truth? Who'll stake His life and person fearless for truth's sake? Where is the hero?
FALK [looking keenly at her]. Where is the Valkyria?
SVANHILD [shaking her head]. Valkyrias find no market in this land! When the faith lately was assailed in Syria, Did you go out with the crusader-band? No, but on paper you were warm and willing,-- And sent the "Clerical Gazette" a shilling.
[Pause. FALK is about to retort, but checks himself, and goes into the garden.
SVANHILD [after watching him a moment, approaches him and asks gently: Falk, are you angry?
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 passions 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 hither on beating wings,-- See there--it darted from its leafy nest-- And, do you know, it is my faith, as oft As God 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 God, 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 passionate 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 passing 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 God! It is not you--?
SVANHILD. Who win this overplus of bliss? Ah no!
FALK [with almost childish joy]. It is not you! O God 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 pass by.
MRS. HALM. And yet you walk at nightfall unprotected? Arrange the room, and see that tea is ready; Let everything be nice; I know the lady. [Svanhild goes in.
STIVER [to FALK]. What is the colour of this parson's coat?
FALK. I guess bread-taxers would not catch his vote.
STIVER. How if one made allusion to the store Of verses, yet unpublished, in my drawer?
FALK. It might do something.
STIVER. Would to heaven it might! Our wedding's imminent; our purses light. Courtship's a very serious affair.
FALK. Just so: "Qu'allais-tu faire dans cette galere?"
STIVER. Is courtship a "galere"?
FALK. No, married lives;-- All servitude, captivity, and gyves.
STIVER