labors to mammon! O God in Heaven, forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on a bench.) Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert remains in the background. Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs to Olof, her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a happy heart! (She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet and pushes her away.) Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith- Gert. The Pope is beaten, is n't he? Had n't we better begin with the Emperor soon? Olof. We began at the wrong end. Gert. At last! Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it must be open and honest. Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for them and for us! Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag me down. Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? [Exit Christine. (The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the sounding of drums and trumpets become audible.) Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside North Gate. Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with swords instead of rods? Gert. Aware? If they were! Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his drums to their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may live? Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! (Olof makes a gesture of dismay and repugnance.) ACT IV A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands a bedstead with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. Christine is asleep on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the oil of the night-lamp and turning the hour-glass. Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight-Now comes the critical time. (He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine moans in her sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) Christine! (She wakes with a start.) Go to bed, child; I will watch. Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies-I think Olof should be here soon. Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! Christine. Yes, and you must n't say that I have slept. Do you hear? Lars. Poor girl!-You're not happy! Christine. Who says one should be happy? Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like the carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller and weaker he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing his strength at my feet Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps forward.) Who is that? Christine. The nurse. Mother. Christine! Christine. Do you want anything? Mother. Nothing from you. Christine. Dame Christine! Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from here! Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor-I shall soon die. Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last confidences? Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Mårten come yet? Lars. Mårten is a bad man. Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children standing between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the consolations of religion in my last moments? You have taken my life. -do you want to destroy my soul, too—the soul of your mother? (She falls into a faint.) Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we let her die in the deception practised on her by a miserable wretch like Mårten-and perhaps get her thanks for it—or shall we turn her final prayer into a curse? No, let them come, rather! Or what do you think, Christine? Christine. I dare not think at all. Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is horrible! They have fallen asleep over their dice and their tumblers. And by such as those my mother is to be prepared for her death! Christine. But why not tell her the truth? Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? Lars (going out). May God forgive me! Christine. Olof would never have done that! (Lars returns with Mårten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine out of the room.) Mårten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means we can't go to work yet. Mårten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a little longer-provided that damned priest does n't show up. Nils. Master Olof, you mean?-Do you think that fellow out there noticed anything? Mårten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the coin, I am free. Nils. You're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! Mårten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long for peace. Do you know what life is? Nils. No. the Mårten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Is n't that way it's written somewhere? Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? Mårten. Oh, yes—of course! Nils. You might have been a pretty big man, with your head! Mårten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they whipped the soul out of my body in the convent for after all I had a soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now the body is going to have its turn. Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the same time? |