ASTA. And now for the left arm.
ALLMERS. Am I to have c.r.a.pe on it too?
ASTA. Yes, that is the custom.
ALLMERS. Well--as you please.
[She moves close up to him and begins to sew.]
ASTA. Keep your arm still--then I won"t p.r.i.c.k you.
ALLMERS. [With a half-smile.] This is like the old days.
ASTA. Yes, don"t you think so?
ALLMERS. When you were a little girl you used to sit just like this, mending my clothes. The first thing you ever sewed for me--that was black c.r.a.pe, too.
ASTA. Was it?
ALLMERS. Round my student"s cap--at the time of father"s death.
ASTA. Could I sew then? Fancy, I have forgotten it.
ALLMERS. Oh, you were such a little thing then.
ASTA. Yes, I was little then.
ALLMERS. And then, two years afterwards--when we lost your mother--then again you sewed a big c.r.a.pe band on my sleeve.
ASTA. I thought it was the right thing to do.
ALLMERS. [Patting her hand.] Yes, yes, it was the right thing to do, Asta. And then when we were left alone in the world, we two--. Are you done already?
ASTA. Yes. [Putting together her sewing-materials.] It was really a beautiful time for us, Alfred. We two alone.
ALLMERS. Yes, it was--though we had to toil so hard.
ASTA. You toiled.
ALLMERS. [With more life.] Oh, you toiled too, in your way, I can a.s.sure you--[smiling]--my dear, faithful--Eyolf.
ASTA. Oh--you mustn"t remind me of that stupid nonsense about the name.
ALLMERS. Well, if you had been a boy, you would have been called Eyolf.
ASTA. Yes, if! But when you began to go to college--. [Smiling involuntarily.] I wonder how you could be so childish.
ALLMERS. Was it I that was childish?
ASTA. Yes, indeed, I think it was, as I look back upon it all. You were ashamed of having no brother--only a sister.
ALLMERS. No, no, it was you, dear--you were ashamed.
ASTA. Oh yes, I too, perhaps--a little. And somehow or other I was sorry for you--
ALLMERS. Yes, I believe you were. And then you hunted up some of my old boy"s clothes--
ASTA. Your fine Sunday clothes--yes. Do you remember the blue blouse and knickerbockers?
ALLMERS. [His eyes dwelling upon her.] I remember so well how you looked when you used to wear them.
ASTA. Only when we were at home, alone, though.
ALLMERS. And how serious we were, dear, and how mightily pleased with ourselves. I always called you Eyolf.
ASTA. Oh, Alfred, I hope you have never told Rita this?
ALLMERS. Yes, I believe I did once tell her.
ASTA. Oh, Alfred, how could you do that?
ALLMERS. Well, you see--one tells one"s wife everything--very nearly.
ASTA. Yes, I suppose one does.
ALLMERS. [As if awakening, clutches at his forehead and starts up.] Oh, how can I sit here and--
ASTA. [Rising, looks sorrowfully at him.] What is the matter?
ALLMERS. He had almost pa.s.sed away from me. He had pa.s.sed quite away.
ASTA. Eyolf!
ALLMERS. Here I sat, living in these recollections--and he had no part in them.
ASTA. Yes, Alfred--little Eyolf was behind it all.
ALLMERS. No, he was not. He slipped out of my memory--out of my thoughts. I did not see him for a moment as we sat here talking. I utterly forgot him all that time.
ASTA. But surely you must take some rest in your sorrow.
ALLMERS. No, no, no; that is just what I will not do! I must not--I have no right--and no heart for it, either. [Going in great excitement towards the right.] All my thoughts must be out there, where he lies drifting in the depths!
ASTA. [Following him and holding him back.] Alfred--Alfred! Don"t go to the fiord.
ALLMERS. I must go out to him! Let me go, Asta! I will take the boat.
ASTA. [In terror.] Don"t go to the fiord, I say!