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_ ACT II - SCENE II
SCENE--Catherine's Cottage.
CATHERINE, spinning, sings.
I.
Turn swift, my wheel, my busy wheel,
And leave my heart no time to feel;
Companion of my widow'd hour,
My only friend, my only dow'r.
II.
Thy lengthening thread I love to see,
Thy whirring sound is dear to me:
Oh, swiftly turn by night and day,
And toil for him that's far away.
Catherine.
Hark! here come the children. No, 'twas only the wind. What can keep these children so late?--but it is a fine moonlight night--they'll have brave appetites for their supper when they come back--but I wonder they don't come home.--Heigho! since their father has been gone, I am grown a coward--(a knock at the door heard)--Come in!--Why does every knock at the door startle me in this way?
Enter CHARLES, with a knapsack on his back
Charles.
Mistress! mayhap you did not expect to see a stranger at this time o' night, as I guess by the looks of ye--but I'm only a poor fellow, that has been a-foot a great many hours.
Cath.
Then, pray ye, rest yourself, and such fare as we have you're welcome to.
[She sets milk, &c., on a table.
Charles throws himself into a chair, and flings his knapsack behind him.]
Charles.
'Tis a choice thing to rest one's self:
--I say, mistress, you must know,
I, and some more of us peasants, have come a many,
many leagues since break of day.
Cath.
Indeed, you may well be tired--and where do you come from?
--Did you meet, on your road, any soldiers coming back from Finland?
Charles
(eats and speaks).
Not the soldiers themselves, I can't say as I did; but we are them that are bringing home the knapsacks of the poor fellows that have lost their lives in the wars in Finland.
Cath
(during this speech of Charles,
leans on the back of a chair. Aside)
Now I shall know my fate.
Charles
(eating and speaking).
My comrades are gone on to the village beyond with their knapsacks, to get them owned by the families of them to whom they belonged, as it stands to reason and right. Pray, mistress, as you know the folks here-abouts, could you tell me whose knapsack this is, here, behind me?
(looking up at Catherine.)
--Oons, but how pale she looks!
(aside).
Here, sit ye down, do.
(Aside)
Why, I would not have said a word if I had thought on it
--to be sure she has a lover now, that has been killed in the wars.
(Aloud)
Take a sup of the cold milk, mistress.
Catherine
(goes fearfully towards the knapsack).
'Tis his! 'tis my husband's!
[She sinks down on a chair, and hides her face with her hands.]
Charles.
Poor soul! poor soul!
--(he pauses.)
But now it is not clear to me that you may not be mistaken, mistress:--these knapsacks be all so much alike, I'm sure I could not, for the soul of me, tell one from t'other--it is by what's in the inside only one can tell for certain.
(Charles opens the knapsack, pulls out a waistcoat, carries
it towards Catherine, and holds it before her face.)
--Look ye here, now; don't give way to sorrow while there's hope left
--Mayhap, mistress--look at this now, can't ye, mistress?
[Catherine timidly moves her hands from before her face, sees the waistcoat, gives a faint scream, and falls back in a swoon. The peasant runs to support her.--At this instant the back door of the cottage opens, and ALEFTSON enters.]
Aleft.
Catherine!
Charles.
Poor soul!--there, raise her head--give her air--she fell into this swoon at the sight of yonder knapsack--her husband's--he's dead. Poor creature!--'twas my luck to bring the bad news--what shall we do for her?--I'm no better than a fool, when I see a body this way.
Aleft
(sprinkling water on her face.)
She'll be as well as ever she was, you'll see, presently--leave her to me!
Charles.
There! she gave a sigh--she's coming to her senses.
[Catherine raises herself.]
Cath.
What has been the matter?
--(She starts at the sight of Aleftson.)
--My husband!--no--'tis Aleftson
--what makes you look so like him?--you don't look like yourself.
Aleft
(aside to the peasant.)
Take that waistcoat out of the way.
Cath.
(looking round, sees the knapsack.)
What's there?--Oh, I recollect it all now.
--(To Aleftson)
Look there! look there! your brother!
your brother's dead! Poor fool, you have no feeling.
Aleft.
I wish I had none.
Cath.
Oh, my husband!--shall I never, never see you more
--never more hear your voice
--never more see my children in their father's arms?
Aleft
(takes up the waistcoat, on which her eyes are fixed.)
But we are not sure this is Christiern's.
Charles
(snatching it from him).
Don't show it to her again, man!--you'll drive her mad.
Aleft
(aside.)
Let me alone; I know what I'm about.
(Aloud)
'Tis certainly like a waistcoat I once saw him wear; but perhaps--
Cath.
It is his--it is his--too well I know it--my own work--I gave it to him the very day he went away to the wars--he told me he would wear it again the day of his coming home--but he'll never come home again.
Aleft.
How can you be sure of that?
Cath.
How!--why, am not I sure, too sure?--hey!--what do you mean?--he smiles!--have you heard any thing?--do you know any thing?--but he can know nothing--he can tell me nothing--he has no sense.
(She turns to the peasant.)
Where did you get this knapsack?--did you see--
Aleft.
He saw nothing--he knows nothing--he can tell you nothing:--listen to me, Catherine--see, I have thrown aside the dress of a fool--you know I had my senses once--I have them now as clear as ever I had in my life--ay, you may well be surprised--but I will surprise you more--Count Helmaar's come home.
Cath.
Count Helmaar!--impossible!
Charles.
Count Helmaar!--he was killed in the last battle, in Finland.
Aleft.
I tell ye, he was not killed in any battle
--he is safe at home--I have just seen him.
Cath.
Seen him!--but why do I listen to him, poor fool!
he knows not what he says--and yet, if the count be really alive--
Charles.
Is the count really alive? I'd give my best cow to see him.
Aleft.
Come with me, then, and in one quarter
of an hour you shall see him.
Cath
(clasping her hands.)
Then there is hope for me--Tell me, is there any news?
Aleft.
There is.
Cath.
Of my husband?
Aleft.
Yes--ask me no more--you must hear the rest from
Count Helmaar himself--he has sent for you.
Cath
(springs forward.)
This instant let me go, let me hear
--(she stops short at the sight of the waistcoat, which lies in her passage).
--But what shall I hear?--there can be no good news for me--this speaks too plainly.
[Aleftson pulls her arm between his, and leads her away.]
Charles.
Nay, master, take me, as you promised, along with you--I won't be left behind--I'm wide awake now--I must have a sight of Count Helmaar in his own castle--why, they'll make much of me in every cottage on my road home, when I can swear to 'em I've seen Count Helmaar alive, in his own castle, face to face--God bless him, he's the poor man's friend.
[Exeunt.] _
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