Svava. But there is no question of living with anyone, for any length of time, or of forgiveness--because I do not mean to have anything more to do with him.
Riis. Really, this is beyond all bounds! Because he has dared to fall in love with some one before you--?
Svava. Some one?
Riis. Well, if there was more than one, I am sure I know nothing about it. No, indeed I do not! Besides, the way people gossip and backbite is the very devil! But, as I was saying, because he dared to look at some one before he looked at you--before he ever _thought_ of you--is that a reason for throwing him over for good and all? How many would ever get married under those circ.u.mstances, I should like to know? Everybody confirms the opinion that he is an honourable, fine young fellow, to whom the proudest girl might confidently entrust herself--you said so yourself, only a day or two ago! Do not deny it! And now he is suddenly to be thrown over, because you are not the first girl he has ever met!
Pride should have some limits, remember! I have never heard of anything more preposterous, if you ask me.
Mrs. Riis. Men are not like that.
Riis. And what about girls? Are they like that? I am quite sure they do not ask whether their fiances have been married before--observe, I said "married." You can imagine he has been married. Well, why not? That is what other girls do--you cannot deny it. I know you know it. You have been to dances; who are most in request there? Precisely those who have the reputation of being something of a Don Juan. They take the wind out of all the other fellows" sails. You have seen it yourself a hundred times. And it is not only at dances that this applied. Don"t you suppose they get married--and as a rule make the very best matches?
Mrs. Riis. That is true.
Riis. Of course it is true. And as a rule they make the very best husbands, too!
Mrs. Riis. Hm!
Riis. Oh, indeed they do!--with some exceptions, of course, naturally.
The fact is, that marriage has an enn.o.bling influence, and provides a beautiful vocation for a woman--the most beautiful vocation possible!
Svava (who has got up). I can just manage to listen to such things from you--because I expected no better from you.
Riis. Thank you very much!
Svava (who has come forward). One would really think that marriage were a sort of superior wash-house for men--
Riis. Ha, ha!
Svava.--and that men could come there and take a dip when they please--and in what state they please!
Riis. Oh, really--!
Svava. I mean it! And it is flattering--very flattering--for me, as your daughter, to feel that you look upon me as so peculiarly suited for the washerwoman"s post! None of that for me, thank you!
Riis. But this is--
Svava. No, just listen to me for a little! I don"t think I have said too much, the last day or two.
Riis. No, we have not been allowed to say a word to you.
Svava. Look here, father. You have a fine supply of principles, for show purposes.
Riis. For--?
Svava. I do not mean by that, that they are not your own. But you are so good and so honourable, your whole life is so refined, that I do not attach the least importance to your principles. But to mother"s I do attach importance, for hers are what have formed mine. And now just when I want to act up to them, she deserts me.
Riis and Mrs. Riis (together). Svava!
Svava. It is mother I am angry with! It is mother I cannot have patience with!
Riis. Really, Svava--!
Svava. Because if there has been one point on which mother and I have been agreed, it has been on the subject of the unprincipled way men prepare themselves for marriage, and the sort of marriages that are the result. We have watched the course of it, mother and I, for many years; and we had come to one and the same conclusion, that it is _before_ marriage that a marriage is marred. But when, the other day, mother began to turn round--
Mrs. Riis. No, you have no right to say that! I am convinced that Alfred is as honourable--
Svava. But when, the other day, mother began to turn round--well, I could not have been more amazed if some one had come in and told me they had met her out in the street when she was actually sitting here talking to me.
Mrs. Riis. I only ask you to take time to consider! I am not contradicting you!
Svava. Oh, let me speak now! Let me give you just one instance. One day, before I was really grown up, I came running into this room from the park. We had just bought the property, and I was so happy. Mother was standing over there leaning against the door and crying. It was a lovely summer"s day. "Why are you crying, mother?" I said. For some time she seemed as if she did not see me. "Why are you crying, mother?" I repeated, and went nearer to her, but did not like to touch her. She turned away from me, and walked up and down once or twice. Then she came to me. "My child," she said, drawing me to her, "never give in to what is not good and pure, on any account whatever! It is so cowardly, and one repents it so bitterly; it means perpetually giving in, more and more and more." I do not know what she referred to, and I have never asked. But no one can imagine what an effect it all had on me--the beautiful summer day, and mother crying, and the heartfelt tones of her voice! I cannot give in; do not ask me to. Everything that made marriage seem beautiful to me is gone--my faith, my feeling of security--all gone! No, no, no! I can never begin with that, and it is wicked of you to want to make me believe I can. After such a disillusionment and such a humiliation? No! I would rather never be married--even it I have to go away from here. I daresay I shall find something to fill my life; it is only for the moment that I am so helpless. And anything is better than to fill it with what is unclean. If I did not refuse that without hesitation, I should be an accomplice to it. Perhaps some people could put up with that. I cannot--no, I cannot. Do you think it is arrogance on my part? Or because I am angry? If you knew what we two had planned and schemed, you would understand me. And if you knew what I have thought of him, how I have admired him--you did the same yourselves--and how wretched I feel now, how utterly robbed of everything!--Who is it that is crying? Is it you, mother? (She runs to her mother, kneels down and buries her head in her lap. A pause. RIIS goes into his room.) Why cannot we three hold together? If we do, what have we to be afraid of?
What is it that stands in the way? Father, what is it that stands in the way?--But where is father? (Sees NORDAN outside the window.) Uncle Nordan! This is a surprise! (Hurries across the room, throws herself into NORDAN"s arms as he enters, and bursts into tears.)
Nordan. Oh, you goose! You great goose!
Svava. You must come and talk to me!
Nordan. Isn"t that what I am here for?
Svava. And I thought you were up in the mountains and could not hear from us.
Nordan. So I was. But when I got telegram after telegram, as long as they could reach me, and then one express letter after another--and now the end of it all is--well, I don"t suppose I dare even mention his name here now? (RIIS comes in from his room.)
Riis. At last! We have been so anxious for you to come!
Mrs. Riis (who has at last risen and come forward). Thank you for coming, dear doctor!
Nordan (looking at her). There is something serious up, then?
Mrs. Riis. I have something I want to say to you.
Nordan. Yes, but just now away you go, you two! Let me talk to this b.o.o.by. (MRS. RIIS goes out to the left. SVAVA follows her for a minute.)
Riis. I just want to tell you that in a little while--
Nordan.--the whole pack of Christensens will be here? I know that. Go away now.
Riis. Nordan! (Whispers to him.)
Nordan. Yes, yes!--Quite so!--No, of course not! (Tries to stop his whispering.) Do you suppose I don"t know what I am about? Be off with you! (SVAVA comes in, as her father goes out.)
Svava. Dear Uncle Nordan! At last, somebody that will agree with me!
Nordan. Am I?
Svava. Oh, Uncle Nordan, you don"t know what these days have been like!