You sent for me hither, and so you must take me.

  PEER

  Solveig! It cannot be——! Ay, but it is!—

  And you’re not afraid to come near to me!

  SOLVEIG

  One message you sent me by little Helga;

  Others came after in storm and in stillness.

  All that your mother told bore me a message,

  That brought forth others when dreams sank upon me.

  Nights full of heaviness, blank, empty days,

  Brought me the message that now I must come.

  It seemed as though life had been quenched down there;

  I could nor laugh nor weep from the depths of my heart.

  I knew not for sure how you might be minded;

  I knew but for sure what I should do and must do.

  PEER

  But your father?

  SOLVEIG

  In all of God’s wide earth

  I have none I can call either father or mother.

  I have loosed me from all of them.

  PEER

  Solveig, you fair one—

  And to come to me?

  SOLVEIG

  Ay, to you alone;

  You must be all to me, friend and consoler.

  [In tears.]

  The worst was leaving my little sister;—

  But parting from father was worse, still worse;

  And worst to leave her at whose breast I was borne;—

  Oh no, God forgive me, the worst I must call

  The sorrow of leaving them all, ay all!

  PEER

  And you know the doom that was passed in spring?

  It forfeits my farm and my heritage.

  SOLVEIG

  Think you for heritage, goods, and gear,

  I forsook the paths all my dear ones tread?

  PEER

  And know you the compact? Outside the forest

  Whoever may meet me may seize me at will.

  SOLVEIG

  I ran upon snow-shoes; I asked my way on;

  They said, “Whither go you?” I answered, “I go home.”

  PEER

  Away, away then with nails and planks!

  No need now for bars against hobgoblin-thoughts.

  If you dare dwell with the hunter here,

  I know the hut will be blessed from ill.

  Solveig! Let me look at you! Not too near!

  Only look at you! Oh, but you are bright and pure!

  Let me lift you! Oh, but you are fine and light!

  Let me carry you, Solveig, and I’ll never be tired!

  I will not soil you. With outstretched arms

  I will hold you far out from me, lovely and warm one!

  Oh, who would have thought I could draw you to me,—

  Ah, but I have longed for you, daylong and nightlong.

  Here you may see I’ve been hewing and building;—

  It must down again, dear; it is ugly and mean——

  SOLVEIG

  Be it mean or brave,—here is all to my mind.

  One so lightly draws breath in the teeth of the wind.

  Down below it was airless; one felt as though choked;

  That was partly what drove me in fear from the dale.

  But here, with the fir-branches soughing o’er-head,—

  What a stillness and song!—I am here in my home.

  PEER

  And know you that surely? For all your days?

  SOLVEIG

  The path I have trodden leads back nevermore.

  PEER

  You are mine then! In! In the room let me see you!

  Go in! I must go to fetch fir-roots33 for fuel.

  Warm shall the fire be and bright shall it shine,

  You shall sit softly and never be a-cold.

  [He opens the door; SOLVEIG goes in. He stands still for a while, then

  laughs aloud with joy and leaps into the air.]

  PEER

  My king’s daughter! Now I have found her and won her!

  Hei! Now the palace shall rise, deeply founded!

  He seizes his axe and moves away; at the same moment an OLD-LOOKING WOMAN, in a tattered green gown, comes out from the wood; an UGLY BRAT, with an ale-flagon in his hand, limps after, holding on to her skirt.

  THE WOMAN

  Good evening, Peer Lightfoot!

  PEER

  What is it? Who’s there?

  THE WOMAN

  Old friends of yours, Peer Gynt! My home is near by.

  We are neighbours.

  PEER

  Indeed! That is more than I know.

  THE WOMAN

  Even as your hut was builded, mine built itself too.

  PEER [Going.]

  I’m in haste——

  THE WOMAN

  Yes, that you are always, my lad;

  But I’ll trudge behind you and catch you at last.

  PEER

  You’re mistaken, good woman!

  THE WOMAN

  I was so before;

  I was when you promised such mighty fine things.

  PEER

  I promised——? What devil’s own nonsense is this?

  THE WOMAN

  You’ve forgotten the night when you drank with my sire?

  You’ve forgot——?

  PEER

  I’ve forgot what I never have known.

  What’s this that you prate of? When last did we meet?

  THE WOMAN

  When last we met was when first we met.

  [To THE BRAT]

  Give your father a drink; he is thirsty, I’m sure.

  PEER

  Father? You’re drunk, woman! Do you call him——?

  THE WOMAN

  I should think you might well know the pig by its skin!

  Why, where are your eyes? Can’t you see that he’s lame

  In his shank, just as you too are lame in your soul?

  PEER

  Would you have me believe——?

  THE WOMAN

  Would you wriggle away——?

  PEER

  This long-leggëd urchin——!

  THE WOMAN

  He’s shot up apace.

  PEER

  Dare you, you troll-snout, father on me——?

  THE WOMAN

  Come now, Peer Gynt, you’re as rude as an ox.

  [Weeping.]

  Is it my fault if no longer I’m fair,

  As I was when you lured me on hillside and lea?

  Last fall, in my labour, the Fiend held my back,

  And so ’twas no wonder I came out a fright.

  But if you would see me as fair as before,

  You have only to turn yonder girl out of doors,

  Drive her clean out of your sight and your mind;—

  Do but this, dear my love, and I’ll soon lose my snout!

  PEER

  Begone from me, troll-witch!

  THE WOMAN

  Ay, see if I do!

  PEER

  I’ll split your skull open——!

  THE WOMAN

  Just try if you dare!

  Ho-ho, Peer Gynt, I’ve no fear of blows!

  Be sure I’ll return every day of the year.

  Through the door, set ajar, I’ll peep in at you both.

  When you’re sitting with your girl on the fireside bench,—

  When you’re tender, Peer Gynt,—when you’d pet and caress

  her,—

  I’ll seat myself by you, and ask for my share.

  She there and I—we will take you by turns.

  Farewell, dear my lad, you can marry to-morrow.

  PEER

  You nightmare of hell!

  THE WOMAN

  By-the-bye, I forgot!

  You must rear your own youngster, you light-footed scamp!

  Little imp, will you go to your father?

  THE BRAT [Spits at him.]

  Faugh!

  I’ll chop you with my hatchet; only wait, only wait!

  THE WOMAN [Kisses THE BRAT.]

  What a head he has got on his shoulders, the dear!

  You’ll be dad’s living image when once you’re a man!

  PEER [Stamping.]

  Oh, would you were as far——!

  THE WOMAN

  As we now are near?

  PEER [Clenching his hands.]

  And all this——!

  THE WOMAN

  For nothing but thoughts and desires!

  It is hard on you, Peer!

  PEER

  It is worst for another!—

  Solveig, my fairest, my purest gold!

  THE WOMAN

  Oh ay, ’tis the guiltless must smart, said the devil:

  His mother boxed his ears when his father was drunk!

  [She trudges off into the thicket with THE BRAT, who throws the flagon

  at PEER GYNT.]

  PEER [After a long silence.]

  The Boyg said, “Go roundabout!”—so one must here.—

  There fell my fine palace, with crash and clatter

  There’s a wall around her whom I stood so near,

  Of a sudden all’s ugly—my joy has grown old.—

  Roundabout, lad! There’s no way to be found.

  Right through all this, from where you stand to her.

  Right through? H’m, surely there should be one.

  There’s a text on repentance, unless I mistake.

  But what? What is it? I haven’t the book,

  I’ve forgotten it mostly, and here there is none

  That can guide me aright in the pathless wood.—

  Repentance? And maybe ’twould take whole years

  Ere I fought my way through. ’Twere a meagre life, that.

  To shatter what’s radiant, and lovely, and pure,

  And clinch it together in fragments and shards?

  You can do it with a fiddle, but not with a bell.

  Where you’d have the sward green, you must mind not to trample.

  ’Twas nought but a lie though, that witch-snout business!

  Now all that foulness is well out of sight.—

  Ay, out of sight maybe, but not out of mind.

  Thoughts will sneak stealthily in at my heel.

  Ingrid! And the three, they that danced on the heights!

  Will they too want to join us? With vixenish spite

  Will they claim to be folded, like her, to my breast,

  To be tenderly lifted on outstretched arms?

  Roundabout, lad; though my arms were as long

  As the root of the fir, or the pine-tree’s stem,—

  I think even then I should hold her too near

  To set her down pure and untarnished again.—

  I must roundabout here, then, as best I may,

  And see that it bring me nor gain nor loss.

  One must put such things from one, and try to forget.—

  [Goes a few steps towards the hut, but stops again.]

  Go in after this? So befouled and disgraced?

  Go in with that troll-rabble after me still?

  Speak, yet be silent; confess, yet conceal——?

  [Throws away his axe.]

  It’s a holy-day evening. For me to keep tryst,

  Such as now I am, would be sacrilege.

  SOLVEIG [In the doorway.]

  Are you coming?

  PEER [Half aloud.]

  Roundabout!

  SOLVEIG

  What?

  PEER

  You must wait.

  It is dark, and I’ve got something heavy to fetch.

  SOLVEIG

  Wait; I will help you; the burden we’ll share.

  PEER

  No, stay where you are! I must bear it alone.

  SOLVEIG

  But don’t go too far, dear!

  PEER

  Be patient, my girl;

  Be my way long or short—you must wait.

  SOLVEIG [Nodding to him as he goes.] Yes, I’ll wait. [PEER GYNT goes down the wood-path. SOLVEIG remains standing in the open half-door.]

  SCENE FOURTH

  ÅSE’s room. Evening.The room is lighted by a wood fire on the open hearth. A cat is lying on a chair at the foot of the bed.

  ÅSE lies in the bed, fumbling about restlessly with her hands on the coverlet.

  ÅSE

  Oh, Lord my God, isn’t he coming?

  The time drags so drearily on.

  I have no one to send with a message;

  And I’ve much, oh so much, to say.

  I haven’t a moment to lose now!

  So quickly! Who could have foreseen?

  Oh me, if I only were certain

  I’d not been too strict with him!

  PEER GYNT [Enters.]

  Good evening!

  ÅSE

  The Lord give you gladness!

  You’ve come then, my boy, my dear!

  But how dare you show face in the valley?

  You know your life’s forfeit here.

  PEER

  Oh, life must e’en go as it may go;

  I felt that I must look in.

  ÅSE

  Ay, now Kari is put to silence,

  And I can depart in peace!

  PEER

  Depart? Why, what are you saying?

  Where is it you think to go?

  ÅSE

  Alas, Peer, the end is nearing;

  I have but a short time left.

  PEER [Writhing, and walking towards the back of the room.]

  See there now! I’m fleeing from trouble;

  I thought at least here I’d be free——!

  Are your hands and your feet a-cold, then?

  ÅSE

  Ay, Peer; all will soon be o’er.—

  When you see that my eyes are glazing,

  You must close them carefully.

  And then you must see to my coffin;

  And be sure it’s a fine one, dear.

  Ah no, by-the-bye——

  PEER

  Be quiet!

  There’s time yet to think of that.

  ÅSE

  Ay, ay.

  [Looks restlessly round the room.]

  Here you see the little

  They’ve left us! It’s like them, just.

  PEER [With a writhe.]

  Again!

  [Harshly.]

  Well, I know it was my fault.

  What’s the use of reminding me?

  ÅSE

  You! No, that accursed liquor,

  From that all the mischief came!

  Dear my boy, you know you’d been drinking;

  And then no one knows what he does;

  And besides, you’d been riding the reindeer;

  No wonder your head was turned!

  PEER

  Ay, ay; of that yarn enough now.

  Enough of the whole affair.

  All that’s heavy we’ll let stand over

  Till after—some other day.

  [Sits on the edge of the bed.]

  Now, mother, we’ll chat together;

  But only of this and that,—

  Forget what’s awry and crooked,

  And all that is sharp and sore.—

  Why see now, the same old pussy!

  So she is alive then, still?

  ÅSE

  She makes such a noise o’ nights now;

  You know what that bodes, my boy!

  PEER [Changing the subject.]

  What news is there here in the parish?

  ÅSE [Smiling.]

  There’s somewhere about, they say,

  A girl who would fain to the uplands——

  PEER [Hastily.]

  Mads Moen, is he content?

  ÅSE

  They say that she hears and heeds not

  The old people’s prayers and tears.

  You ought to look in and see them;—

  You, Peer, might perhaps bring help——

  PEER

  The smith, what’s become of him now?

  ÅSE

  Don’t talk of that filthy smith.

  Her name I would rather tell you,

  The name of the girl, you know——

  PEER

  Nay, now we will chat together,

  But only of this and that,—

  Forget what’s awry and crooked,

  And all that is sharp and sore.

  Are you thirsty? I’ll fetch you water.

  Can you stretch you? The bed is short.

  Let me see;—if I don’t believe, now,

  It’s the bed that I had when a boy!

  Do you mind, dear, how oft in the evenings

  You sat at my bedside here,

  And spread the fur coverlet o’er me,

  And sang many a lilt and lay?

  ÅSE

  Ay, mind you? And then we played sledges,

  When your father was far abroad.

  The coverlet served for sledge-apron,

  And the floor for an ice-bound fiord.

  PEER

  Ah, but the best of all, though,—

  Mother, you mind that too?

  The best was the fleet-foot horses——

  ÅSE

  Ay, think you that I’ve forgot?—

  It was Kari’s cat that we borrowed;

  It sat on the log-scooped chair——

  PEER

  To the castle west of the moon, and

  The castle east of the sun,

  To Soria-Moria Castle

  The road ran both high and low.

  A stick that we found in the closet,

  For a whip-shaft you made it serve.

  ÅSE

  Right proudly I perked on the box-seat——

  PEER

  Ay, ay; you threw loose the reins,