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ACT III
(SCENE--The garden at LEONARDA FALK'S house some days later. On
the left, a summer-house with table and chairs. A large basket,
half full of apples, is on the table. LEONARDA is standing
talking to PEDERSEN.)
Leonarda. Very well, Pedersen; if the horses are not needed here,
we may as well send to fetch Miss Aagot home. Can we send to-day?
Pedersen. Certainly, ma'am.
Leonarda. Then please send Hans as soon as possible with a pair
of horses to the hill farm for her. It is too cold for her to be
up there now, anyway.
Pedersen. I will do so. (Turns to go.)
Leonarda. By the way, Pedersen, how has that little affair of
yours been going?
Pedersen. Oh--
Leonarda. Come to me this evening. We will see if we can continue
our little talk about it.
Pedersen. I have been wishing for that for a long time, ma'am.
Leonarda. Yes, for the last eight or ten days I have not been
able to think of anything properly.
Pedersen. We have all noticed that there has been something
wrong with you, ma'am.
Leonarda. We all have our troubles. (PEDERSEN waits; but as
Leonarda begins to pick apples carefully from a young tree and
put them in a small basket that is on her arm, he goes out to the
left. HAGBART appears from the right, and stands for a minute
without her seeing him.)
Hagbart. Mrs. Falk! (LEONARDA gives a. little scream.) I beg your
pardon, but I have been looking for you everywhere. How are you?
I have only just this moment got back.
Leonarda. Aagot is not at home.
Hagbart. I know. Has she been away the whole time?
Leonarda. Yes.
Hagbart. Will she be away long?
Leonarda. I am sending the horses up to-day, so she should be
here by the day after to-morrow.
Hagbart. It was you I wanted to speak to, Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. About Aagot?
Hagbart. Yes, about Aagot--amongst other things.
Leonarda. But couldn't you wait--till some other time?
Hagbart. Mrs. Falk, I came straight here from the steamer; so
you can see for yourself--
Leonarda. But if it concerns Aagot, and she is not here?
Hagbart. The part of it that concerns Aagot is soon said. She was
perfectly right--only I did not know it at the time.
Leonarda. Good God!
Hagbart. I do not love Aagot.
Leonarda. But if Aagot loves you?
Hagbart. She has showed me lately that she does not. Did she not
tell you so, plainly?
Leonarda. She was--how shall I put it?--too excited for me to
attach much importance to what she said.
Hagbart. Then she did tell you so. I thought she had--indeed I
was sure of it. Aagot does not love me, but she loves you. She
wants you to be happy.
Leonarda. If you do not love Aagot, it seems to me you ought
not to have come here.
Hagbart. Perhaps you are right. But I am not the same man as I
was when I used to come here before; nor do I come for the same
reason.
Leonarda. If you do not love Aagot, I must repeat that you have
no right to be here. You owe that much consideration both to her
and to me.
Hagbart. I assure you that it is from nothing but the sincerest
consideration for you that I am here now.
Leonarda (who up to this point has been standing by the tree).
Then I must go!
Hagbart. You won't do that!
Leonarda. You seem to me completely changed.
Hagbart. Thank goodness for that!--because I don't feel any great
respect for the man I was before. Many people can decide such
things in a moment, but it has taken me time to see my course
clearly.
Leonarda. I don't understand you.
Hagbart (almost before the words are out of her mouth, coming
close to her). You do understand me!
Leonarda. It would be wicked! Take care!
Hagbart. Your hand is trembling--
Leonarda. That is not true!
Hagbart. They say there is a devil in every one that should not
be waked. It is a foolish saying, because these devils are our
vital forces.
Leonarda. But we ought to have them under control. That is the
lesson my life has taught me; it has cost me dear, and I mean to
profit by it.
Hagbart. If I did not believe that it was the impulse of truth
itself that guided me to you, I should not be standing here. I
have had a long struggle. I have had to give up one prejudice
after another, to enable my soul to find itself fully and go
forward confidently. It has brought me to you--and now we will go
forward together.
Leonarda. That might have been, without this.
Hagbart. I love you! It is you I have loved in her--since the
very first day. I love you!
Leonarda. Then have respect for me--and go!
Hagbart. Leonarda!
Leonarda. No, no! (Shrinks away from him.) Oh, why did this
happen?
Hagbart. It has come upon us step by step. The cruel obstacles in
our way have only proved friends to us, in bringing us together.
Give yourself up to happiness, as I do now!
Leonarda. I do not deserve happiness. I have never expected that.
Hagbart. I don't know what you have gone through to make you what
you are now--so beautiful, so good, so true; but this I do know,
that if the others had not judged you by your failures, I should
not have loved you for what you have achieved. And I thought that
might give me some value in your eyes.
Leonarda. Thank you for that, from my heart!--But the world
disapproves of such things. It disapproves of a young man's
making love to an older woman, and if--
Hagbart. I have never cared much about the world's opinion, even
in the days when I was most hidebound in prejudice. It is your
opinion I want--yours only!
Leonarda. And my answer is that one who is alone can get along
without the world's sympathy--but it is different with a couple.
They will soon feel the cold wind of the world's displeasure
blowing between them.
Hagbart. When you answer me, it makes what I have said seem so
formal and ceremonious--so clumsy. But I must just be as I am; I
cannot alter myself. Dearest, from the moment I felt certain that
it was you I loved, only one thing seemed of any importance to
me--everything else was blotted out. And that is why I do not
understand what you say. Do you suppose they will try to make
me tire of you? Do you suppose that is possible?
Leonarda. Not now, but later on. There will come a time--
Hagbart. Yes, a time of work--self-development! It has come
now. That is why I, am here! Perhaps a time of conflict may come
too--heaven send that it may! Are we to pay any heed to that? No!
You are free, and I am free; and our future is in our own hands.
Leonarda. Besides, I have grown old--
Hagbart. You!
Leonarda. --and jealous, and troublesome; while you are the
incarnation of youth and joy.
Hagbart. You have more youth in you than I. You are an
enchantress! All your life you will be showing me new aspects of
yourself--as you are doing now. Each year will invest you with a
new beauty, new spiritual power. Do you think I only half
understand you, or only half love you? I want to sit close in
your heart, warmed by its glow. It is the irresistible power of
truth that has drawn me to you. My whole life will not be long
enough for me to sound the unfathomable depths of your soul.
Leonarda. Your words are like the spring breezes, alluring and
intoxicating, but full of deadly peril too.
Hagbart. You love me! I knew it before I came here to-day. I saw
it the moment I stood here. Love is the very breath of life to
you, surpassingly more than to any one else I have ever seen; and
that is why you have suffered so terribly from the disappointments
and emptiness of life. And now, when love is calling to you--love
that is true and sincere--you are trembling!
Leonarda. You understand me in a way I thought impossible! It
takes away all my resolution; it--
Hagbart. Surely you saw it in all the many talks we love had?
Leonarda. Yes.
Hagbart. Then is that not a proof that we two--?
Leonarda. Yes, it is true! I can hide nothing from you. (Bursts
into tears.)
Hagbart. But why this unhappiness?
Leonarda. I don't know! It pursues me all day, and all through
the sleepless night. (Weeps helplessly.)
Hagbart. But it has no real existence. It might, in the case of
others; but not in our case--not for us.
Leonarda. I spoke in my distress, without thinking. I threw out
the first thing that came into my head, to try and stop you. But
it is not that--oh, God! (Sways as if half swooning.)
Hagbart (rushing to her side). Leonarda!
Leonarda. No, no! Let me be!
Hagbart. You know your love is too strong for you--will you not
give way to it?
Leonarda. Hagbart, there is something about it that is not right--
Hagbart. Do you mean in the way it has come about? In Aagot's
having been the means of leading me to you? Think of it, and you
will see that it could not have happened otherwise.
Leonarda. Talking about it will not help me. I must see Aagot; I
must speak to Aagot.
Hagbart. But you have done that! You know it is you that love
me, and not she. You know it is you that I love, and not her.
What more do you need?
Leonarda. I want time. I want not to lose the self-control I have
won for myself by years of renunciation and self-sacrifice, and
was so proud of. But it won't obey me when you speak to me.
Your words possess me in spite of myself. If there is any
happiness on earth, it is to find one's every thought faultlessly
understood. But that happiness brings a pain with it--for me, at
any rate. No, don't answer! You are too strong for me; because I
love you--love you as only one can who has never believed such
joy could exist or could possibly come to her--and now the depths
of my peace are troubled with the thought that it is treachery to
my child.
Hagbart. But you know that it is not!
Leonarda. I don't know. Let me have time to think! I am afraid,
and my fear revives forgotten memories. More than that--I am
afraid of the immensity of my love for you, afraid of dragging
you with me into a whirlpool of disaster!--No, don't answer!
Don't touch me!--Hagbart, do you love me?
Hagbart. Can you ask that?
Leonarda. Then help me! Go away!--Be generous. Let my heart
know this triumph and see you in its glorious rays! Other
women do not need that, perhaps--but I need it--go!
Hagbart. Leonarda!
Leonarda. Wait till you hear from me. It will not be long.
Whatever happens, be patient--and remember, I love you!--No,
don't say anything! I have neither courage nor strength for
anything more. (Her voice sinks to a whisper.) Go! (He turns to
go.) Hagbart! (He stops.) What you have said to me to-day has
given me the greatest happiness of my life. But your going away
now without a word will be more to me than all you have sail.
(He goes out.)
Leonarda (stands for some moments in a kind of ecstasy, moves,
and stands still again. Suddenly she calls out): Aagot!
Aagot (from without). Are you there?
Leonarda. My dear child! (Goes out, and cones in again with
AAGOT in her arms.) Did you walk?
Aagot. The whole way! (She is carrying her hat in her hand,
appears hot and sunburnt, and bears evident signs of laving made
a long journey on foot. She takes off a knapsack which she has
been carrying on her back.) I washed in a brook to-day and used
it as a looking-glass as well!
Leonarda. Have you been walking all night?
Aagot. No; I slept for a little while at Opsal, but I was out by
sunrise. It was lovely!
Leonarda. And I have just been arranging to send and fetch you.
Aagot. Really? Well, they can fetch my things. I could not wait
any longer.
Leonarda. You look so well.
Aagot. Oh, that is because I am so sunburnt.
Leonarda. You are feeling all right again, then--now?
Aagot. Splendid, aunt! All that is over, now.--I have had a
letter from grandmother.
Leonarda. Was that letter from her that I sent on to you? I could
not make out whom it was from.
Aagot. Yes, it was from her. Here it is. You must hear it.
Leonarda. Yes.
Aagot (reads). "My dear child. I have not written a letter for
many years, so I do not know what this will be like. But Hagbart
is away, so I must tell you myself. Do not be distressed any
longer. As soon as you are married, I will come and live with
you." Isn't that glorious, aunt? (She is trembling with
happiness, and throws her arms round LEONARDA'S neck.)
Leonarda. But--
Aagot. But what? There is no more "but" about it, don't you
see! It is on your account.
Leonarda. On my account? Yes, but--what about you? How do you
stand--with Hagbart?
Aagot. Oh, that?--Well, I will tell you the whole story! I can do
that now.--Oh, don't take it all so seriously, aunt! It really is
nothing. But let us sit down. (Brings forward a seat, as she
speaks.) I really feel as if I wanted to sit down for a little
while, too!--Well, you see, it came upon me like an unexpected
attack--a blow from behind, as it were. Now, my dear aunt, don't
look so troubled. It is all over now. As a matter of fact, the
beginning of it all was a play I saw.
Leonarda. A play?
Aagot. We saw it together once, you and I, do you remember?
Scribe's Bataille de Dames.
Leonarda. Yes.
Aagot. And I remember thinking and saying to you: That fellow
Henri, in the play, was a stupid fellow. He had the choice
between a strong-natured, handsome, spirited woman, who was ready
to give her life for him, and a child who was really a stupid
little thing--for she was, it is no use denying it, aunt--and he
chose the insignificant little person. No, I would rather sit
down here; I can rest better so. Ah, that is good! And now you
mustn't look me in the face oftener than I want to let you,
because you take it too dreadfully solemnly, and I am going to
tell you something foolish now.--All of a sudden it flashed
across my mind: Good heavens! the woman was--,and the little
hussy with the curly hair was--,and he? But Hagbart is a man of
some sense: he had chosen otherwise! And I did not know; but I
realised at the same time that almost from the first day Hagbart
used always to talk to you, and only to you, and hardly at all to
me except to talk about you. I got so miserable about it that I
felt as if some one had put a knife into my heart; and from that
moment--I am so ashamed of it now--I had no more peace. I carried
an aching pain in my heart night and day, and I thought my heart
itself would break merely to see him speak to you or you to him.
I am ashamed of myself; because what was more natural than that
he should never be tired of talking to you? I never should,
myself!
Leonarda. But still I don't see--I don't understand yet--
Aagot. Wait a bit! Oh, don't look so anxiously at me! It is all
over now, you know.
Leonarda. What is all over?
Aagot. Bless my soul, wait! Aunt, dear, you are more impatient
than I am myself! I do not want you to think me worse than I am,
so I must first tell you how I fought with myself. I lay and
cried all night, because I could not talk to you about it, and in
the daytime I forced myself to seem merry and lively and happy.
And then, aunt, one day I said to myself quite honestly: Why
should you feel aggrieved at his loving her more than you? What
are you, compared with her? And how splendid it would be, I
thought, for my dear aunt to find some one she could truly love,
and that it should be I that had brought them together!
Leonarda. That was splendid of you, Aagot!
Aagot. Yes, but now I mustn't make myself out better than I am,
either. Because I did not always manage to look at it that way;
very often something very like a sob kept rising in my throat.
But then I used to talk to myself seriously, and say: Even
supposing it is your own happiness you are giving up for her
sake, is that too much for you to do for her? No, a thousand
times no! And even supposing he does not love you any more, ought
you not to be able to conquer your own feelings? Surely it would
be cowardly not to be able to do that! Think no more of him, if
he does not love you!
Leonarda. Aagot, I cannot tell you how I admire you, and love
you, and how proud I am of you!
Aagot. Oh, aunt, I never realised as I did then what you have
been to me! I knew that if I were capable of any great deed,
anything really good or really fine, it was you that had planted
the impulse in me. And then I sought every opportunity to bring
this about; I wanted to take ever so humble a part in it, but
without your hearing a word or a sigh from me. Besides, I had you
always before me as an example; because I knew that you would
have done it for me--indeed that you had already done as much.
Your example was like a shining beacon to me, aunt!
Leonarda. Aagot!
Aagot. But you don't seem to be as happy about it as I am! Don't
you understand yet how it all happened?
Leonarda. Yes, but--about the result of it?
Aagot. Dearest, you know all about that!--No, it is true, you
don't! I must not forget to tell you that; otherwise you won't be
able to understand why I behaved so stupidly at the Bishop's.
Leonarda. No.
Aagot. Well, you see, when I was full of this splendid
determination to sacrifice myself so as to make you happy, I used
to feel a regular fury come over me because Hagbart noticed no
change in me--or, to be more correct, did not understand it in
the least. He used to go about as if he were in a dream. Isn't it
extraordinary how one thing leads to another? My feeling was
stronger than I had any idea of; because when the Bishop wanted
to slight you--and that was like a stab from behind, too!--I
absolutely lost my head with Hagbart because of his not having
prevented that, instead of going about dreaming. I don't know--
but--well, you saw yourself what happened. I blurted out the
first thing that came into my head and was abominably rude; you
were angry; then we made friends again and I went away--and then,
aunt--
Leonarda. And then--?
Aagot. Then I thought it all over! All the beautiful things you
said to me about him, as we were going home, came back to me more
and more forcibly. I saw you as I had always known you, noble
and gentle.--It was so wonderful up there, too! The air, the
clearness, the sense of space! And the lake, almost always calm,
because it was so sheltered! And the wonderful stillness,
especially in the evening!--And so it healed, just as a wound
heals.
Leonarda. What healed?
Aagot. The pain in my heart, aunt. All the difficulties vanished.
I know Hagbart to be what you said--noble and true. And you too,
aunt! You would neither of you have wished to give me a moment's
pain, even unconsciously, I knew. It was so good to realise that!
It was so restful, that often while I was thinking of it, I went
to sleep where I sat--I was so happy!--Ah, how I love him! And
then came grandmother's letter--.
[HANS comes in, but does not see AAGOT at first.]
Hans. Then I am to fetch Miss Aagot--why, there she is!
Aagot (getting up). You quite frightened me, Hans!
Hans. Welcome back, miss!
Aagot. Thank you.
Hans. Well, you have saved me a journey, miss, I suppose?
Aagot. Yes. But someone must go and fetch my things.
Hans. Of course, miss.--But what is the matter with the mistress?
Aagot. Aunt!--Heavens, what is the matter?
Hans. The mistress has not looked well lately.
Aagot. Hasn't she? Aunt, dear! Shall I--? Would you like to--?
Aunt!
Hans. Shall I fetch some one to--
Leonarda. No, no!--But you, Aagot--will you-. Oh, my God!--Will
you run in--and get--
Aagot. Your bottle of drops?
Leonarda. Yes. (AAGOT runs out.) Hans, go as quickly as you can
to the General's--ask him to come here! At once!
Hans. Yes, ma'am.
Leonarda. Hans!
Hans. Yes, ma'am.
Leonarda. Go on horseback. You may not find the General at home--
and have to go elsewhere after him.
Hans. Yes, ma'am. (Goes out. AAGOT re-enters.)
Aagot. Here it is, aunt!
Leonarda. Thank you. It is over now.
Aagot. But what was it, aunt?
Leonarda. It was something, dear--something that comes over one
sometimes at the change of the year.
[Curtain.]
(The interval between this act and the next should be very short.)
Content of ACT III [Bjornstjerne Bjornson's play: Leonarda]
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