The Little Dream | Page 4

rocky peaks are seen by the light of a moon which is slowly whitening the last hues of sunset. An oil lamp is burning. SEELCHEN, a mountain girl, eighteen years old, is humming a folk-song, and putting away in a cupboard freshly washed soup-bowls and glasses. She is dressed in a tight-fitting black velvet bodice. square-cut at the neck and partly filled in with a gay handkerchief, coloured rose-pink, blue, and golden, like the alpen-rose, the gentian, and the mountain dandelion; alabaster beads, pale as edelweiss, are round her throat; her stiffened. white linen sleeves finish at the elbow; and her full well-worn skirt is of gentian blue. The two thick plaits of her hair are crossed, and turned round her head. As she puts away the last bowl, there is a knock; and LAMOND opens the outer door. He is young, tanned, and good-looking, dressed like a climber, and carries a plaid, a ruck-sack, and an ice-axe.
LAMOND. Good evening!
SEELCHEN. Good evening, gentle Sir!
LAMOND. My name is Lamond. I'm very late I fear.
SEELCHEN. Do you wish to sleep here?
LAMOND. Please.
SEELCHEN. All the beds are full--it is a pity. I will call Mother.
LAMOND. I've come to go up the Great Horn at sunrise.
SEELCHEN. [Awed] The Great Horn! But he is impossible.
LAMOND. I am going to try that.
SEELCHEN. There is the Wine Horn, and the Cow Horn.
LAMOND. I have climbed them.
SEELCHEN. But he is so dangerous--it is perhaps--death.
LAMOND. Oh! that's all right! One must take one's chance.
SEELCHEN. And father has hurt his foot. For guide, there is only Mans Felsman.
LAMOND. The celebrated Felsman?
SEELCHEN. [Nodding; then looking at him with admiration] Are you that Herr Lamond who has climbed all our little mountains this year?
LAMOND. All but that big fellow.
SEELCHEN. We have heard of you. Will you not wait a day for father's foot?
LAMOND. Ah! no. I must go back home to-morrow.
SEELCHEN. The gracious Sir is in a hurry.
LAMOND. [Looking at her intently] Alas!
SEELCHEN. Are you from London? Is it very big?
LAMOND. Six million souls.
SEELCHEN. Oh! [After a little pause] I have seen Cortina twice.
LAMOND. Do you live here all the year?
SEELCHEN. In winter in the valley.
LAMOND. And don't you want to see the world?
SEELCHEN. Sometimes. [Going to a door, she calls softly] Hans! [Then pointing to another door] There are seven German gentlemen asleep in there!
LAMOND. Oh God!
SEELCHEN. Please? They are here to see the sunrise. [She picks up a little book that has dropped from LAMOND'S pocket] I have read several books.
LAMOND. This is by the great English poet. Do you never make poetry here, and dream dreams, among your mountains?
SEELCHEN. [Slowly shaking her head] See! It is the full moon.
While they stand at the window looking at the moon, there enters a lean, well-built, taciturn young man dressed in Loden.
SEELCHEN. Hans!
FELSMAN. [In a deep voice] The gentleman wishes me?
SEELCHEN. [Awed] The Great Horn for to-morrow! [Whispering to him] It is the celebrated London one.
FELSMAN. The Great Horn is not possible.
LAMOND. You say that? And you're the famous Felsman?
FELSMAN. [Grimly] We start at dawn.
SEELCHEN. It is the first time for years!
LAMOND. [Placing his plaid and rucksack on the window bench] Can I sleep here?
SEELCHEN. I will see; perhaps--
[She runs out up some stairs]
FELSMAN. [Taking blankets from the cupboard and spreading them on the window seat] So!
As he goes out into the air. SEELCHEN comes slipping in again with a lighted candle.
SEELCHEN. There is still one bed. This is too hard for you.
LAMOND. Oh! thanks; but that's all right.
SEELCHEN. To please me!
LAMOND. May I ask your name?
SEELCHEN. Seelchen.
LAMOND. Little soul, that means--doesn't it? To please you I would sleep with seven German gentlemen.
SEELCHEN. Oh! no; it is not necessary.
LAMOND. [With. a grave bow] At your service, then. [He prepares to go]
SEELCHEN. Is it very nice in towns, in the World, where you come from?
LAMOND. When I'm there I would be here; but when I'm here I would be there.
SEELCHEN. [Clasping her hands] That is like me but I am always here.
LAMOND. Ah! yes; there is no one like you in towns.
SEELCHEN. In two places one cannot be. [Suddenly] In the towns there are theatres, and there is beautiful fine work, and--dancing, and--churches--and trains--and all the things in books--and--
LAMOND. Misery.
SEELCHEN. But there is life.
LAMOND. And there is death.
SEELCHEN. To-morrow, when you have climbed--will you not come back?
LAMOND. No.
SEELCHEN. You have all the world; and I have nothing.
LAMOND. Except Felsman, and the mountains.
SEELCHEN. It is not good to eat only bread.
LAMOND. [Looking at her hard] I would like to eat you!
SEELCHEN. But I am not nice; I am full of big wants--like the cheese with holes.
LAMOND. I shall come again.
SEELCHEN. There will be no more hard mountains left to climb. And if it is not exciting, you do not care.
LAMOND. O wise little soul!
SEELCHEN. No. I am not wise. In here it is always