w.a.n.gel. Not past?
Ellida. No, w.a.n.gel, it is not past; and I fear it never will be--never, in all our life.
w.a.n.gel (in a pained voice). Do you mean to say that in your innermost heart you have never been able to forget this strange man?
Ellida. I had forgotten him; but then it was as if he had suddenly come back again.
w.a.n.gel. How long ago is that?
Ellida. It"s about three years ago, now, or a little longer. It was just when I expected the child.
w.a.n.gel. Ah! at that time? Yes, Ellida--now I begin to understand many things.
Ellida. You are mistaken, dear. What has come to me? Oh! I believe nothing on earth will ever make it clear.
w.a.n.gel (looking sadly at her). Only to think that all these three years you have cared for another man. Cared for another. Not for me--but for another!
Ellida. Oh! you are so utterly mistaken! I care for no one but you.
w.a.n.gel (in a subdued voice). Why, then, in all this time have you not lived with me as my wife?
Ellida. Because of the horror that comes from the strange man.
w.a.n.gel. The horror?
Ellida. Yes, the horror. A horror so terrible--such as only the sea could hold. For now you shall hear, w.a.n.gel.
(The young townsfolk come back, bow, and pa.s.s out to the right. Together with them come ARNHOLM, BOLETTE, HILDE, and LYNGSTRAND.)
Bolette (as she pa.s.ses by). Well, are you still walking about up here?
Ellida. Yes, it is so cool and pleasant up here on the heights.
Arnholm. We, for our part, are going down for a dance.
w.a.n.gel. All right. We"ll soon come down--we also.
Hilde. Goodbye, for the present!
Ellida. Mr. Lyngstrand, will you wait one moment? (LYNGSTRAND Stops.
ARNHOLM, BOLETTE and HILDE go out. To LYNGSTRAND.) Are you going to dance too?
Lyngstrand. No, Mrs. w.a.n.gel. I don"t think I dare.
Ellida. No, you should be careful, you know--your chest. You"re not quite well yet, you see.
Lyngstrand. Not quite.
Ellida (with some hesitation). How long may it be now since you went on that voyage?
Lyngstrand. That time when I contracted this weakness?
Ellida. Yes, that voyage you told me about this morning?
Lyngstrand. Oh! it"s about--wait a moment--yes, it"s a good three years now.
Ellida. Three years, then.
Lyngstrand. Perhaps a little more. We left America in February, and we were wrecked in March. It was the equinoctial gales we came in for.
Ellida (looking at w.a.n.gEL). So it was at that time--
w.a.n.gel. But, dear Ellida--
Ellida. Well, don"t let me detain you, Mr. Lyngstrand. Now go down, but don"t dance.
Lyngstrand. No, I"ll only look on. (He goes out.)
Ellida. Johnston was on board too, I am quite certain of it.
w.a.n.gel. What makes you think so?
Ellida (without answering). He learnt on board that I had married another while he was away. And so that very hour this came over me.
w.a.n.gel. The horror?
Ellida. Yes, all of a sudden I see him alive right in front of me; or, rather a little in profile. He never looks at me, only he is there.
w.a.n.gel. How do you think he looks?
Ellida. Exactly as when I saw him last.
w.a.n.gel. Ten years ago?
Ellida. Yes; out there at Bratthammeren. Most distinctly of all I see his breastpin, with a large bluish-white pearl in it. The pearl is like a dead fish"s eye, and it seems to glare at me.
w.a.n.gel. Good G.o.d! You are more ill than I thought. More ill than you yourself know, Ellida.
Ellida. Yes, yes! Help me if you can, for I feel how it is drawing closer and more close.
w.a.n.gel. And you have gone about in this state three whole years, bearing for yourself this secret suffering, without confiding in me.
Ellida. But I could not; not till it became necessary for your own sake.
If I had confided in you I should also have had to confide to you the unutterable.
w.a.n.gel. Unutterable?
Ellida. No, no, no! Do not ask. Only one thing, nothing more. w.a.n.gel, when shall we understand that mystery of the boy"s eyes?