Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (31 page)

GUDMUND. [Looks searchingly at her.]

I scarce can say.

MARGIT.

You may doubtless read it in many a way;
But its truest meaning, methinks, is clear:
The church can never sever two that hold each other dear.

GUDMUND. [To himself.]

Ye saints, if she should — ? Lest worse befall,
‘Tis time indeed I told her all!
     [Aloud.

Do you wish for my happiness — Margit, tell!

MARGIT. [In joyful agitation.]

Wish for it! I!

GUDMUND.

             Then, wot you well,
The joy of my life now rests with you —

MARGIT. [With an outburst.]

Gudmund!

GUDMUND.

Listen! ‘tis the time you knew —

  [He stops suddenly.
     [Voices and laughter are heard by the river bank. SIGNE and
       other GIRLS enter from the right, accompanied by KNUT,
       ERIK, and several YOUNGER MEN.

KNUT.

[Still at a distance.] Gudmund Alfson! Wait; I must speak a word
with you.

  [He stops, talking to ERIK. The other GUESTS in the meantime
       enter the house.

MARGIT.

[To herself.] The joy of his life — ! What else can he mean
  but — ! [Half aloud.] Signe — my dear, dear sister!

  [She puts her arm round SIGNE’s waist, and they go towards
       the back talking to each other.

GUDMUND.

[Softly as he follows them with his eyes.] Aye, so it were wisest. Both Signe and I must away from Solhoug. Knut Gesling has shown himself my friend; he will help me.

KNUT.

[Softly, to ERIK.] Yes, yes, I say, Gudmund is her kinsman; he can best plead my cause.

ERIK.

Well, as you will.

[He goes into the house.

KNUT.

[Approaching.] Listen, Gudmund —

GUDMUND.

[Smiling.] Come you to tell me that you dare no longer let me
go free.

KNUT.

Dare! Be at your ease as to that. Knut Gesling dares whatever he will. No, ‘tis another matter. You know that here in the district, I am held to be a wild, unruly companion —

GUDMUND.

Aye, and if rumour lies not —

KNUT.

Why no, much that it reports may be true enough. But now, I must tell you —

[They go, conversing, up towards the back.

SIGNE.

[To MARGIT, as they come forward beside the house.] I understand you not. You speak as though an unlooked-for happiness had befallen you. What is in your mind?

MARGIT.

Signe — you are still a child; you know not what it means to have ever in your heart the dread of — [Suddenly breaking off.] Think, Signe, what it must be to wither and die without ever having lived.

SIGNE.

[Looks at her in astonishment, and shakes her head.] Nay, but,
Margit — ?

MARGIT.

Aye, aye, you do not understand, but none the less —

[They go up again, talking to each other. GUDMUND and KNUT come down on the other side.

GUDMUND.

Well, if so it be — if this wild life no longer contents you — then I will give you the best counsel that ever friend gave to friend: take to wife an honourable maiden.

KNUT.

Say you so? And if I now told you that ‘tis even that I have in mind?

GUDMUND.

Good luck and happiness to you then, Knut Gesling! And now you
must know that I too —

KNUT.

You? Are you, too, so purposed?

GUDMUND.

Aye truly. But the King’s wrath — I am a banished man —

KNUT.

Nay, to that you need give but little thought. As yet there is no one here, save Dame Margit, that knows aught of the matter; and so long as I am your friend, you have one in whom you can trust securely. Now I must tell you —

[He proceeds in a whisper as they go up again.

SIGNE.

[As she and MARGIT again advance.] But tell me then Margit — !

MARGIT.

More I dare not tell you.

SIGNE.

Then will I be more open-hearted than you. But first answer me one question. [Bashfully, with hesitation.] Is there no one who has told you anything concerning me?

MARGIT.

Concerning you? Nay, what should that be?

SIGNE.

[As before, looking downwards.] You said to me this morning: if a wooer came riding hither — ?

MARGIT.

That is true. [To herself.] Knut Gesling — has he already — ?
[Eagerly to SIGNE.] Well? What then?

SIGNE.

[Softly, but with exultation.] The wooer has come! He has come,
Margit! I knew not then whom you meant; but now — !

MARGIT.

And what have you answered him?

SIGNE.

Oh, how should I know? [Flinging her arms round her sister’s neck.] But the world seems to me so rich and beautiful since the moment when he told me that he held me dear.

MARGIT.

Why, Signe, Signe, I cannot understand that you should so quickly — !
You scarce knew him before to-day.

SIGNE.

Oh, ‘tis but little I yet know of love; but this I know that what
the song says is true:
Full swiftly ‘tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye —

MARGIT.

So be it; and since so it is, I need no longer hold aught concealed from you. Ah —

[She stops suddenly, as she sees KNUT and GUDMUND approaching.

KNUT.

[In a tone of satisfaction.] Ha, this is as I would have it,
Gudmund. Here is my hand!

MARGIT.

[To herself.] What is this?

GUDMUND.

[To KNUT.] And here is mine!

[They shake hands.

KNUT.

But now we must each of us name who it is —

GUDMUND.

Good. Here at Solhoug, among so many fair women, I have found her whom —

KNUT.

I too. And I will bear her home this very night, if it be needful.

MARGIT.

[Who has approached unobserved.] All saints in heaven!

GUDMUND.

[Nods to KNUT.] The same is my intent.

SIGNE.

[Who has also been listening.] Gudmund!

GUDMUND AND KNUT.

[Whispering to each other, as they both point at Signe.] There she is!

GUDMUND.

[Starting.] Aye, mine.

KNUT.

[Likewise.] No, mine!

MARGIT.

[Softly, half bewildered.] Signe!

GUDMUND.

[As before, to KNUT.] What mean you by that?

KNUT.

I mean that ‘tis Signe whom I —

GUDMUND.

Signe! Signe is my betrothed in the sight of God.

MARGIT.

[With a cry.] It was she! No — no!

GUDMUND.

[To himself, as he catches sight of her.] Margit! She has heard everything.

KNUT.

Ho, ho! So this is how it stands? Nay, Dame Margit, ‘tis needless to put on such an air of wonder; now I understand everything.

MARGIT.

[To SIGNE.] But not a moment ago you said — ? [Suddenly grasping the situation.] ‘Twas Gudmund you meant!

SIGNE.

[Astonished.] Yes, did you not know it! But what ails you, Margit?

MARGIT.

[In an almost toneless voice.] Nay, nothing, nothing.

KNUT.

[To MARGIT.] And this morning, when you made me give my word that I would stir no strife here to-night — you already knew that Gudmund Alfson was coming. Ha, ha, think not that you can hoodwink Knut Gesling! Signe has become dear to me. Even this morning ‘twas but my hasty vow that drove me to seek her hand; but now —

SIGNE.

[To MARGIT.] He? Was this the wooer that was in your mind?

MARGIT.

Hush, hush!

KNUT.

[Firmly and harshly.] Dame Margit — you are her elder sister; you shall give me an answer.

MARGIT.

[Battling with herself.] Signe has already made her choice; — I have naught to answer.

KNUT.

Good; then I have nothing more to do at Solhoug. But after midnight — mark you this — the day is at an end; then you may chance to see me again, and then Fortune must decide whether it be Gudmund or I that shall bear Signe away from this house.

GUDMUND.

Aye, try if you dare; it shall cost you a bloody sconce.

SIGNE.

[In terror.] Gudmund! By all the saints — !

KNUT.

Gently, gently, Gudmund Alfson! Ere sunrise you shall be in my power. And she — your lady-love — [Goes up to the door, beckons and calls in a low voice.] Erik! Erik! come hither! we must away to our kinsfolk. [Threateningly, while ERIK shows himself in the doorway.] Woe upon you all when I come again!

[He and ERIK go off to the left at the back.

SIGNE.

[Softly to GUDMUND.] Oh, tell me, what does all this mean?

GUDMUND.

[Whispering.] We must both leave Solhoug this very night.

SIGNE.

God shield me — you would — !

GUDMUND.

Say nought of it! No word to any one, not even to your sister.