fissure many miles long; I saw it myself. The earth opened her mouth to breathe.

Einar (to Frida). Don't be afraid. I have a black lamb —do you remember it? —with white feet. When I get it home in the fall, I will give it to you.

Jakobina (facing the "hraun"). Not one of you knows the hraun as I do. Can you tell me why the hollows out there are never filled with snow? Have you ever seen the snow falling fast enough to cover even the rims around them? It's the earth blowing her breath against it. The earth sets traps for men; the earth is a man-eater.

Jorunn (to Jakobina). You must not frighten the child. (Silence.)

Sveinungi. Was n't it you, Jakobina, who said that sometimes blood comes on the window-panes? It bodes ill, they say.

Jakobina. Why do you ask? There is no one here who has seen it, is there?

Sveinungi. Never mind why I ask.

Jakobina. Well, if I must say it, it is a sign that some one in the house is going to die soon.

Sveinungi. Or it might bode ill to the farm itself, maybe. Jakobina. What do you mean?

Sveinungi. That it might be doomed.

Jorunn. Indeed, it means neither the one nor the other. It's nothing but a silly old superstition.

Sveinungi. Not that I believe in it, but look at the windows. Don't they look as if they were wet with blood? Jorunn. It's the sun shining on them.

Sveinungi. And see the gables, how white they are. They don't look whiter from the fields down yonder when you spread a cloth over them to call me home.

Indridi (lowering his voice). Did you see the sheep-cot fall?

Thora. Yes, it happened just as we came out.
Indridi. What did Sveinungi say?

Thora. He said nothing.

Indridi. But he told us to move out here.

Thora. No, it was Jorunn who made us do it.

Sveinungi (to Jorunn). I did not tell you that when I came into the badstofa, right after the shock, our old clock had stopped running.

Jorunn. Was it broken?

Sveinungi. No, when I touched the pendulum it started again, but the place was still as death when I entered. The grass on the roof cast a shadow over the skylight. It was as quiet as when my father lay dead.

Jorunn. I think we had better go and lie down. There's nothing gained by staying here any longer.

Sveinungi. I can't see that there was any need of moving out, but you had your way, Jorunn.

Jorunn. I feel sure that they have done the same on all the other farms. We must be thankful it is summer, so that we can stay outdoors.

Sveinungi. Must we be thankful? So you give thanks that my work is ruined.

Jorunn. We must take what comes, whether good or evil, and trouble may help us to remember all the things we have neglected to give thanks for.

Sveinungi. I don't know but that I have always done my duty. I have built all the sheep-cots; I have fenced in the land and looked after it as best I could. I demand justice of Him up there.

Jorunn (rising). I won't listen to such talk. Did you buy

the land from Him, perhaps? And what did you have to pay with that was not His already?

Sveinungi. You need n't mock me. You can walk all over the yard and cut your handful of grass with your scissors wherever you like; it grows thick as wool everywhere, and it's all my work.

Jorunn. Was it you who ruled the hraun for thousands of years so that it did not swallow up the bit of ground you are standing on, which you call yours? [Goes into the tent.

Sveinungi. Which I call mine! (Stamping his foot.) It is mine! I've bought the land from Him up there with my work.

(The Servants rise.)

Jon. I believe the worst is over and that we shall be let off with the fright.

Indridi. I hope so.

Bjørg. You can never tell. Remember what happened the time when more than three-score farm-houses fell in one night.

Thora. It must have been dreadful.

Sveinungi. Now you must all go into the tent.

[The Servants go in.

Jakobina. I should n't wonder if something dreadful were

[Goes into the tent.

to happen to the farm. (Sveinungi stands quite still a little while, then walks a few steps, pauses, takes a few more steps, and again stops.)

Enter Ljot from the tent.

Ljot. Are you not coming, father? Mother told me to ask you to come in.

Sveinungi. Why does n't she lie down? She need not wait

for me.

Ljot. We are so frightened, father—all of us.

Enter Jorunn from the tent.

Sveinungi. Why are you coming out again, Jorunn? Can't you sleep?

Jorunn. No, I can't sleep.

Sveinungi. Do you remember the night you thought I was lost in the snowstorm? A light was burning in the upper window. To see it was better than meeting a human being, and when the dogs began to bark behind the door, it was just as if the house itself were speaking-calling out its joy. It sounded better to me than a human voice, and when I stepped into the hall, the darkness seemed to put its arms around me. Never have I had so sweet a welcome, not even when my daughter was a little child.

Jorunn. Ought we not to go in, Sveinungi? It's getting late. You too must go in now, Ljot.

Ljot. I am only waiting for father.

Jorunn. Do you hear that, Sveinungi? Ljot is waiting for you, and the servants can't sleep either before you go in. Sveinungi. I am not going to stay in the tent to-night. I am going home.

Jorunn. You don't mean that!
Ljot. But, father dear!

Sveinungi. I won't let any foolish fear drive me out of my house, and it is nothing but a foolish fear. The earthquake will not come so suddenly but that I shall have time to get out. It's impossible. Besides, the badstofa will hold. It's well built, though it's old.

Jorunn. Do you think the badstofa will hold if there should come a big earthquake? You cannot mean that!

Sveinungi. It is not at all sure there will be another shock. It's only a fancy that the earthquake must needs keep on once it has begun. I believe it is over; I feel it. (During the last speeches the Servants have been coming out of the tent.) What are you running out for? Go in, all of

you.

Jakobina. I must tell master about the dream I had. It was last night. I thought I was standing out in the yard and saw a giant coming across the hraun. He walked with long, unsteady strides (she takes a few steps forward; her voice sounds distant and threatening), and seemed to grope as if he were blind. Then I saw him standing right by the house-with arms stretched out; he bent down over the farm and stood there like a stone cross. (Makes the sign of the cross with her arms.)

Sveinungi. Did I ask you to tell me about your dream? Jorunn. I beg of you, Sveinungi, that you do not stay at the house to-night. It would be tempting God.

Sveinungi. It's rather He who is tempting me. If I ran away, it would serve me right to have the house fall down. (Pointing to the house.) There it has stood waiting for me every evening as far back as I can remember. I have seen the windows flaming in the sun. I have seen them wet with rain. I have seen them white with frost. I've been with it ever since I was a child. I have climbed on the roof as I climbed on my father's shoulders. When I stood on the ridge, it seemed it had lifted me up to let me see better. No, Jorunn, even if I knew the earthquake to be coming, I should go home. Nor is it any wonder that I long to get into my own bed. I am old now, and I have