With clear deliberation make your choice.
FALK.
And how have you discovered--
GULDSTAD.
That I love her?
That in your eyes "twas easy to discover.
Let her too know it. [Presses his hand.
Now I will go in.
Let the jest cease and earnest work begin; And if you undertake that till the end You"ll be to her no less a faithful friend, A staff to lean on, and a help in need, Than I can be-- [Turning to SVANHILD.
Cancel it from the tables of your thought.
Then it is I who triumph in very deed; You"re happy, and for nothing else I fought.
[To FALK.
And, apropos--just now you spoke of cash, Trust me, "tis little more than tinsell"d trash.
I have not ties, stand perfectly alone; To you I will make over all I own; My daughter she shall be, and you my son.
You know I have a business by the border: There I"ll retire, you set your home in order, And we"ll foregather when a year is gone.
Now, Falk, you know me; with the same precision Observe yourself: the voyage down life"s stream, Remember, is no pastime and no dream.
Now, in the name of G.o.d--make your decision!
[Goes into the house. Pause. FALK and SVANHILD look shyly at each other.
FALK.
You are so pale.
SVANHILD.
And you so silent.
FALK.
True.
SVANHILD.
He smote us hardest.
FALK [to himself].
Stole my armour, too.
SVANHILD.
What blows he struck!
FALK.
He knew to place them well.
SVANHILD.
All seemed to go to pieces where they fell.
[Coming nearer to him.
How rich in one another"s wealth before We were, when all had left us in despite, And Thought rose upward like the echoing roar Of breakers in the silence of the night.
With exultation then we faced the fray, And confidence that Love is lord of death;-- He came with worldly cunning, stole our faith, Sowed doubt,--and all the glory pa.s.s"d away!
FALK [with wild vehemence].
Tear, tear it from thy memory! All his talk Was true for others, but for us a lie!
SVANHILD [slowly shaking her head].
The golden grain, hail-stricken on its stalk, Will never more wave wanton to the sky.
FALK [with an outburst of anguish].
Yes, we two, Svanhild--!
SVANHILD.
Hence with hopes that snare!
If you sow falsehood, you must reap despair.
For others true, you say? And do you doubt That each of them, like us, is sure, alike, That he"s the man the lightning will not strike, And no avenging thunder will find out, Whom the blue storm-cloud scudding up the sky On wings of tempest, never can come nigh?
FALK.
The others split their souls on scattered ends: Thy single love my being comprehends.
They"re hoa.r.s.e with yelling in life"s Babel din: I in this quiet shelter fold thee in.
SVANHILD.
But if love, notwithstanding, should decay, --Love being Happiness"s single stay-- Could you avert, then, Happiness"s fall?
FALK.
No, my love"s ruin were the wreck of all.
SVANHILD.
And can you promise me before the Lord That it will last, not drooping like the flower, But smell as sweet as now till life"s last hour?
FALK [after a short pause].
It will last long.
SVANHILD.
"Long!" "Long!"--Poor starveling word!
Can "long" give any comfort in Love"s need?
It is her death-doom, blight upon her seed.
"My faith is, Love will never pa.s.s away"-- That song must cease, and in its stead be heard: "My faith is, that I loved you yesterday!"
[As uplifted by inspiration.
No, no, not thus our day of bliss shall wane, Flag drearily to west in clouds and rain;-- But at high noontide, when it is most bright, Plunge sudden, like a meteor, into the night!
FALK.
What would you, Svanhild?
SVANHILD.
We are of the Spring; No autumn shall come after, when the bird Of music in thy breast shall not be heard, And long not thither where it first took wing.
Nor ever Winter shall his snowy shroud Lay on the clay-cold body of our bliss;-- This Love of ours, ardent and glad and proud, Pure of disease"s taint and age"s cloud, Shall die the young and glorious thing it is!
FALK [in deep pain].
And far from thee--what would be left of life?
SVANHILD.
And near me what were left--if Love depart?