ACT II

On the right stands a high, framed tapestry, the designpartly worked; beside it, on a table, several harps andinstruments of music. On the left, extending centre,the half-completed model of a structure resembling thetemple in Act I, Scene I; beside it, wooden blocks andminiature beams; in front of it a stone tablet, uponwhichEgil—stooped, with an instrument in hishand—is laboriously carving runes. Behind himstandsArfi,at times guiding the hand of his brother,who is evidently being overcome by weariness, againstwhich he struggles for concentration. Finally Egil’shead droops, his hand falls, and his body sinks prone.At the door,Thordisenters.THORDISAsleep?ARFIQuite, quite outworn.THORDISThe task is done?The runes?ARFIHe has mastered them.THORDIS[Sighs unconsciously.]How swift he learns!ARFIYes, hourly he hath grown through the strange monthsSince Ingimund entrusted him to usTo dispossess the beast that plagues him.THORDISLookNow where he lies and dreams.ARFIThere lies a blockOf chaos, for our wills to fuse and kindleInto a world, glowing with vital formsOf law and loveliness. Yea, Thordis, we—We are his being’s seasons, you and I;The sun and moon, the starshine and the dew,Of this stark heath and breeding moor of passion,And the large jurisdiction of our loveMust ripen there the temperate growths of reason,And stablish the mind’s palaces.THORDISYou speakIn sadness.ARFINay, in awe. The thought grows vastAnd awful.THORDISSo? I do not feel it, I!I feel as elemental as the air,That holds secure within its crystal veinsAs many thousand summers and their bloomsAs the earth may yearn for.ARFI’Tis because you areBounteous as the air, that from your presence allTake breath and power. Since you elected meBeside the altar stone, even I, that wasA warped and ailing mannikin of woe,Prickling with sensibilities and pangs,Have felt myself exalted and at peaceWith this poor twisted mask of torse and limb,So simple it seems, so sane, so actual,That what I am was your immortal friendElsewhere.THORDISAnd have you felt the same? We twoHave walked eternal mountains hand in hand,And watched the morning of our little livesBreak over our birth-hour, and we shall standTogether at the sundown, and beholdThe passion clouds of death grow pale.ARFIAnd thenWe shall pass on together.[In his sleep, Egil moans.]THORDISWe forget;We must not leavehimas we found him, love.ARFIThe wolf torments him still in sleep.THORDISPoor dreamer!And have you told him yet we are to wedTo-morrow?ARFINo; I dreaded to rouse upThe old, jealous hate; for since my wound has healed,He seems to have forgotten that old feud,And looks on you and me no more, methinks,As keepers of his prison-house, but ratherAs his accomplices, that smuggle inSubtle devices for his liberation,To comprehend the use of which he expendsAll of his time and powers.THORDISAccomplices:It may be so; for he, that used to hangWith looks of fire upon my merest motion,Will gaze beyond me now with eyes that gloatBlank as a miser’s on some buried hoard.ARFIThe gold he hoards is knowledge, and ’tis well,For that preoccupation may assuageThe pain he else might feel, when he shall learnOur joy to-morrow.[Egil cries out again.]THORDISYearning heart! how deepIt labours still in pain! Let us take careTo acquaint him gently with our happiness.We must divert him.—Why, what’s here?ARFI[Smiling.]A temple;We’re architects.THORDISHe helped you build it?ARFIIAm helping him.THORDISBut how shall this availTo tame the wolf?ARFIHis genius is destruction;His breath and bondage—to annihilate;And therefore Egil must be shown to buildAnd not destroy; of mean, chaotic things—These blocks—to make admired harmony,And shape, however rude, some tangibleEarnest of his constructive will.THORDISI see;Who would have thought of it but you? Not I![Egil moans.]Hark!EGIL[Low, in his sleep.]Freyja!THORDISDid he call?EGILFreyja!THORDISThat name!You heard?ARFIThe goddess Spring’s.THORDISYou taught him, then,To pray?ARFINot I.EGIL[Starting to his feet.]Freyja!THORDISCan this be Egil?EGIL[Crouched, pacing to and fro.]Free me, Freyja! Frore am I, frost-bit;Go we together into greenwood glad!Mirk under moon-mist mad will meet thee,Hunt thee from hiding, thy heart-beats hear.ARFIIt is the wolf that wakes, while Egil slumbers.EGIL[Looking, with closed eyes, as toward a height.]Free me, Freyja! Fair art thou, froward;Go we together into greenwood glad!Burns thine eyebeam bright as the bitch-wolf’s;Longeth Fenris in thy lair to lie.THORDISWhat other name spake he?ARFII could not hear.EGIL[In sudden terror, seeking to fly.]Ai! anarch! anarch! Ulfr!THORDISWake him.ARFIWait;What this reveals to us may prove of helpTo him.EGIL[Defiantly.]Oathless am I!THORDISBut see! he suffers.EGILI—I am Allfather![Swaying with anguish, as under the blows of a scourge, hesinks upon the floor, overwhelmed and quivering.]Oathless—am—I—THORDISEgil, awake! awake! ’Tis nothing.EGIL[Gradually waking, rises to his knees.]Freyja!THORDISNo goddess I, poor Egil, but your friendThordis, the maiden.EGILShe thou art—the sameEven now that saved me. [Starting.] What is that?ARFIYour brother.EGILMy brother he is tall and beautiful,Happy and glorious, and I hate him for’t.ARFINay, you have hated me, but not for that.Look on me, Egil.EGILArfi!THORDIS’Twas a dream.EGILWhat’s that—a dream? Is it a mist that stealsBetween the eyelids, filling them with shapBegot of its own vapour,—shadows? lies?If so, which shapes are dreams—your forms, or those,Those even now that beheld me, where I crouchedAmong the crater’s hoar crusts, numb with cold,Yet writhing in the brassy flames, that eatAnd crawled into my vitals? Mine? No, no!That was not I, that nameless thing, not I!Say “No.”ARFIIt was the wolf. You fell asleep,Wearied, and dreamed of him.EGILIf that be sleep,Then let me sleep no more. O friends, sweet friends,You that have weaned and reared me from this thing,Promise I nevermore may droop mine eyesBut you will prod them open.THORDISYou forgetHow you have grown. Soon you will be once more—But oh! how milder, mightier, than before—Egil, the hunter.EGILTill then, Egil the hunted!O Thordis, could I meet—as many a timeI’ve met within the forest, face to face,My quarry, and destroyed it—could I soConfront this inward beast and grapple himTo the death-struggle,—ha! but with a dream!A spectral wolf, that lurks ever in the duskAnd tangled thickets of my brain and will,A wraith invulnerable, that makes his lairIn my bosom, that, when I would strike,I lacerate myself, draw life—myselfThe beast, the bait, the hunter and the hunted!THORDISNay, you are still the hunter, he the quarry,Only to track him hath grown harder, forHe hath grown duskier as your mind hath dawned,And can no more take shape, as he was wont,In tangible horror to the eyes of all.Yet we will track him—you and I.EGILBut how?THORDISWith flaming torches we will set ablazeHis ancient wilderness, till through the gapOf sundering boughs the quiet stars shall mock him,Naked and overwhelmed.EGILBut where? What boughs?What fire?THORDIS[Taking up, among the instruments, a reed-pipe.]The way is wild; this pipe shall lead us.Play, Arfi![Sitting beside the block temple, Arfi beginsto play upon the reed.]EGILBut this pipe—THORDISDo you not hearHer voice alluring us? It is a wood-sprite,The elf-child Harmony.EGILWhere can she lead us?This is a prison.THORDISShe can lead us forthInto the beauteous world. Hark! even now—Do you not see?—the walls are crumbling, brightWith ivy-dew and morning.—Don’t you hear?The birds! the birds!—Now, Egil, now your hand!Now on the dance with me! We’ll follow herOn—to the chase![Taking hands, they dance whilst Arfi blows the mellowpipe. Eager, impetuous, Egil becomes kindled by thesound and motion till, in the midst, dropping Thordis’shand, he gropes toward the wall.]EGILThe chase! the chase! the chase!Ho, torches for the chase!ARFI[Stops playing, and rises.]A metaphorTransforms him.EGILTorches![Stumbling against the blocks.]What is this?ARFIOur temple;We’ve left it uncompleted.EGILThis!—the chase!To sit block-building like a little child?To ask vague questions that await strange answers?No! do not mock me! Summon the great hunt.Hand me a torch into my gripping palm,Point where to leap, and let the whirlwinds singAnd the great jungles crash in conflagration.The wolf! reveal the wolf! that I may rendThe demon limb from limb.ARFIHe rages blindNow in your eyes.EGIL[Controlling himself, shudders.]Emancipate me!ARFICome;Here let us sit, as we were boys again,And pile our blocks.THORDISGo, Egil! Build with him.The forest-sprite has led you to her temple.[Going to the tapestry frame, while Egil joins Arfi, shebegins to work upon the embroidery, observing fromtime to time their block-building.]EGILA temple! Still they mock me.—’Tis a toy.ARFIWhy, true, a toy, and yet a temple, ifThe mind bring incense here, and the bow’d heartMake sacrifice.EGILWe are not pigmies, we,To creep under this gable.ARFIAre we not?Are we so great? Who hath not stood beneathA sparrow’s egg-shell, speckled o’er with stars,And dwindled there with wonder? Who so smallBut hath, to quench desire, drunk of the sunOr set his parch’d lips to the moon’s pale rim?So great, so small, neither and both, our statureWaxes and wanes, inconstant as a shadow’Twixt night and noon and night. This temple, lad,Will be as cramped or spacious as the spiritWhich consecrates it.EGILDark! Thou speakest darkness.ARFIListen! This house of toy-wood is the altarWhere you must supplicate the immortal godsFor freedom.EGILSo; the immortal gods! What, then,Are they that I should sue to them for freedom?ARFIThey are the powers of the inevitableTo whom we mortals must submit our willsOr perish.[Egil’s structure falls.]EGILAh! it breaks. What made it fall?ARFIA god: the same that holds these prison wallsStone upon stone; the same that mortisesThe rock-seams of the solid hills, and hangsAloft the glittering roof-tree of the world.—You builded weak, and the god chided you.EGILAre then the gods so near?ARFIIn all our actsWe feel the might of their invisible hands,But only in prayer behold them face to face.EGILIn prayer?ARFIThe abnegation of our willsFor theirs, the affirmation of their laws,Which to the god’s “Thou must” answers “I will.”EGILAnd that is freedom?ARFIThat alone is freedom.EGILI will be free then, Arfi. Why, ’tis simplerThan playing with these blocks. I will be free!Teach me to pray.ARFII cannot.EGILTeach me, Thordis.[She shakes her head and smiles.]Alas! who will?ARFIYourself alone.EGILBut how?How may I know when I have learned to pray?ARFIWhen, in the full sight of your goal of yearning,Your spirit, pausing, cries out to the gods—“This is my heart’s desire—take it—’tis yours!”That instant of renunciation willBe prayer and freedom both and the wolf’s passing-bell.[EnterWuldor;he goes to Arfi and speaks aside.]Admit him.WULDORBut—ARFIWhy not?WULDORHis looks are wild,His words were bitter. When he spoke of thee,He laughed and scowled.ARFISay we will come to him.[Exit Wuldor.]THORDIS[Whom Arfi approaches, with a warning gesture.]Who is it?ARFI[Aside.]Yorul; he has asked to speakWith Egil.THORDISOught we to admit him?ARFIIt is wise,For so may Egil measure what he isBy what he was. Look; he has knelt to pray.The time is fitting; we will leave him so.THORDIS[Leaving the tapestry.]How noble he looks! Shall we not tell him nowAbout to-morrow?ARFIWe will tell him allWhen he has prayed.[Exeunt.]EGIL[Solus.]To pray—to pray is simple:“This is my heart’s desire—take it—’tis yours!”And so—emancipation. O you gods,If through these prison walls you may beholdThe mock rites of this childish temple, hear me!Knowledge—knowledge, that is my heart’s desire.That is the soul-inebriating cupWhich hath transformed me half unto your imageAnd still hath drugg’d the other brutish halfTo lethargy and dreams. To know, to learn,And evermore to learn! To watch new worldsKindling from out the dark of consciousness,Fresh firmaments gathering from drop to dropOf common morning dew; to be upborneOn the light-trailing wings of understandingAnd scan far off the former crawling-placeAnd wolf-haunt of the spirit, to spread those wingsAt one’s own will and mount into the sun,Searing the mind with ecstasy—you gods!That is my heart’s desire: take it from me!Take it, ’tis yours, for it hath come from you,But when of that you have bereft me, leaveFreedom instead, and innocence.[EnterYorul.]What’s there?Speak.YORUL[As Egil starts up, bows himself at his feet.]Thy betrayer.EGILOh, art thou a god?And art thou come in answer to my prayer?YORULMaster—EGILI know thy voice.YORUL[Turning upward his face.]Destroy me.EGIL[Dreamily.]Yorul!Yorul, my liegeman!YORULOnce thou named me so;Once and the world was sweet—once and ’twassweet.EGILWhy have they sent thee, Yorul?YORULWho, my lord?EGILThou art their messenger; be swift; declareTheir grace, or doom.—Shall I go free?YORULDestroy meWith blows of steel, not of remorse. None sent me.Myself hath driven me here, here to the cellWherein my treachery consigned my master.Hear me!EGILI hear thee, Yorul.YORULSince that night,That bitter sunset when she—since that nightTill now, I have not left the forest, norSpoken with friend or foe; but I have stoppedMy heart in the deep silentness of treesTill it hath burst for pain. My wrong and thine,Thy wrong and mine—I dared to balance them,To let my woe condone my treacheryAnd prove it justified, as if my heartWere not itself thy vassal, and its pangsFeudal to thy desires. And so I sinnedUntil to-day.EGILThese are enigmas. Speak!How have the gods made answer to my prayer?YORULTo-day I met with peasants in the woodWho drove their herds of swine all garlandedWith green arbutus. Hailing me, they cried,“Why come ye not with us to Odin’s stoneAgainst to-morrow’s wedding-day?” “Who weds?”Quoth I. “Our priestess Thordis weds the dwarf;Come with us!” Then I bit my arm and vowedThat I would come to thee and speak my shame,And say, “Destroy me, lord, or let me serve thee.”EGILPeasants they were; they said—what was’t they said?YORUL“To-morrow our priestess Thordis”—EGIL“Weds the dwarf!”Those were thy words; thou shalt not change them now.YORULI would not change them.EGILWouldst thou not? Well said!“To-morrow the maiden Thordis”—nay, not so;“To-morrow our priestess Thordis—weds the dwarf.”And all their swine were garlanded.—Was it so?YORULEven so, and I—EGILEven so!YORULI vowed to come—EGIL[Laughing.]Knowledge—knowledge—that was my heart’s desire!YORULAnd make confession—EGILWhy, here have I satAnd licked the crumbs of knowledge from his handAs I had been his beagle; and for what?To grow! to be transmuted from a wolfInto my brother’s ape! To evolve a mindThat knows at last the rapture it must lose.Oh, noble!YORULAnd make confession of my crimeAs of my love.EGIL[Beginning to pace back and forth.]Ha!YORULFor I loved her well,More than I dreamed. Love leads us from the truthAnd blinds us to ourselves.EGILAh!YORULSo when IBeheld that deed—forgive me!EGILAh!YORULI spakeThose traitor’s words that damned thee to this cell;For I was mad. O God! the memoryMaddens me now.EGILHa!YORULLook not on me so,For I am weak and passionate. Take care!The truth deserts me!—Nay, forgive me, master,’Tis love is falsehood.EGILAh!YORULI am thy liegeman,And what was mine was thine to take, unquestioned.EGILAh!YORULYet my soulwouldquestion, and I claimed herIn spite of thee, for that same night—[Draws nearer and whispers.]I killed her.Mine! She is mine! Thou canst not touch her now.She lies out yonder with the virgin starsWhite and inviolable. Dead, she is mineWhom, living, ’twas thy title not to spare.Master, pity my triumph! Leave me yetThis foible of my arrogance, for whichHenceforth I am thy loyal slave, to doOr die for thee.EGILWouldst serve me—ah?YORULSay how!EGILSeems thou canst kill.YORULSpeak but that word.[They look long at each other.]EGIL’Tis spoken.Go!—Stay!YORULWhat more?EGILThine oath!—for sometimes, Yorul,The resolute grow sick with afterthought,And hot will cool—thine oath, to shun my sight,To speak not nor be spoken with, until’Tis done.YORUL[Raising his right arm.]By Frida’s cold and virgin hand,To shun my master’s sight, to speak not, norBe spoken with, until ’tis done.EGIL’Tis sworn;Go now.[Yorul covers his face, and exit.]To-morrow she shall wed—not him.O dupe of lovers! Bond-slave to a dwarf!O gods, your fool! your fool![Throwing himself down beside the temple of blocks, hedestroys it, insensate, and crouches, laughing, amid the ruins.]

THORDISAsleep?

ARFIQuite, quite outworn.

THORDISThe task is done?The runes?

ARFIHe has mastered them.

THORDIS[Sighs unconsciously.]How swift he learns!

ARFIYes, hourly he hath grown through the strange monthsSince Ingimund entrusted him to usTo dispossess the beast that plagues him.

THORDISLookNow where he lies and dreams.

ARFIThere lies a blockOf chaos, for our wills to fuse and kindleInto a world, glowing with vital formsOf law and loveliness. Yea, Thordis, we—We are his being’s seasons, you and I;The sun and moon, the starshine and the dew,Of this stark heath and breeding moor of passion,And the large jurisdiction of our loveMust ripen there the temperate growths of reason,And stablish the mind’s palaces.

THORDISYou speakIn sadness.

ARFINay, in awe. The thought grows vastAnd awful.

THORDISSo? I do not feel it, I!I feel as elemental as the air,That holds secure within its crystal veinsAs many thousand summers and their bloomsAs the earth may yearn for.

ARFI’Tis because you areBounteous as the air, that from your presence allTake breath and power. Since you elected meBeside the altar stone, even I, that wasA warped and ailing mannikin of woe,Prickling with sensibilities and pangs,Have felt myself exalted and at peaceWith this poor twisted mask of torse and limb,So simple it seems, so sane, so actual,That what I am was your immortal friendElsewhere.

THORDISAnd have you felt the same? We twoHave walked eternal mountains hand in hand,And watched the morning of our little livesBreak over our birth-hour, and we shall standTogether at the sundown, and beholdThe passion clouds of death grow pale.

ARFIAnd thenWe shall pass on together.

[In his sleep, Egil moans.]

THORDISWe forget;We must not leavehimas we found him, love.

ARFIThe wolf torments him still in sleep.

THORDISPoor dreamer!And have you told him yet we are to wedTo-morrow?

ARFINo; I dreaded to rouse upThe old, jealous hate; for since my wound has healed,He seems to have forgotten that old feud,And looks on you and me no more, methinks,As keepers of his prison-house, but ratherAs his accomplices, that smuggle inSubtle devices for his liberation,To comprehend the use of which he expendsAll of his time and powers.

THORDISAccomplices:It may be so; for he, that used to hangWith looks of fire upon my merest motion,Will gaze beyond me now with eyes that gloatBlank as a miser’s on some buried hoard.

ARFIThe gold he hoards is knowledge, and ’tis well,For that preoccupation may assuageThe pain he else might feel, when he shall learnOur joy to-morrow.

[Egil cries out again.]

THORDISYearning heart! how deepIt labours still in pain! Let us take careTo acquaint him gently with our happiness.We must divert him.—Why, what’s here?

ARFI[Smiling.]A temple;We’re architects.

THORDISHe helped you build it?

ARFIIAm helping him.

THORDISBut how shall this availTo tame the wolf?

ARFIHis genius is destruction;His breath and bondage—to annihilate;And therefore Egil must be shown to buildAnd not destroy; of mean, chaotic things—These blocks—to make admired harmony,And shape, however rude, some tangibleEarnest of his constructive will.

THORDISI see;Who would have thought of it but you? Not I![Egil moans.]Hark!

EGIL[Low, in his sleep.]Freyja!

THORDISDid he call?

EGILFreyja!

THORDISThat name!You heard?

ARFIThe goddess Spring’s.

THORDISYou taught him, then,To pray?

ARFINot I.

EGIL[Starting to his feet.]Freyja!

THORDISCan this be Egil?

EGIL[Crouched, pacing to and fro.]Free me, Freyja! Frore am I, frost-bit;Go we together into greenwood glad!Mirk under moon-mist mad will meet thee,Hunt thee from hiding, thy heart-beats hear.

ARFIIt is the wolf that wakes, while Egil slumbers.

EGIL[Looking, with closed eyes, as toward a height.]Free me, Freyja! Fair art thou, froward;Go we together into greenwood glad!Burns thine eyebeam bright as the bitch-wolf’s;Longeth Fenris in thy lair to lie.

THORDISWhat other name spake he?

ARFII could not hear.

EGIL[In sudden terror, seeking to fly.]Ai! anarch! anarch! Ulfr!

THORDISWake him.

ARFIWait;What this reveals to us may prove of helpTo him.

EGIL[Defiantly.]Oathless am I!

THORDISBut see! he suffers.

EGILI—I am Allfather![Swaying with anguish, as under the blows of a scourge, hesinks upon the floor, overwhelmed and quivering.]Oathless—am—I—

THORDISEgil, awake! awake! ’Tis nothing.

EGIL[Gradually waking, rises to his knees.]Freyja!

THORDISNo goddess I, poor Egil, but your friendThordis, the maiden.

EGILShe thou art—the sameEven now that saved me. [Starting.] What is that?

ARFIYour brother.

EGILMy brother he is tall and beautiful,Happy and glorious, and I hate him for’t.

ARFINay, you have hated me, but not for that.Look on me, Egil.

EGILArfi!

THORDIS’Twas a dream.

EGILWhat’s that—a dream? Is it a mist that stealsBetween the eyelids, filling them with shapBegot of its own vapour,—shadows? lies?If so, which shapes are dreams—your forms, or those,Those even now that beheld me, where I crouchedAmong the crater’s hoar crusts, numb with cold,Yet writhing in the brassy flames, that eatAnd crawled into my vitals? Mine? No, no!That was not I, that nameless thing, not I!Say “No.”

ARFIIt was the wolf. You fell asleep,Wearied, and dreamed of him.

EGILIf that be sleep,Then let me sleep no more. O friends, sweet friends,You that have weaned and reared me from this thing,Promise I nevermore may droop mine eyesBut you will prod them open.

THORDISYou forgetHow you have grown. Soon you will be once more—But oh! how milder, mightier, than before—Egil, the hunter.

EGILTill then, Egil the hunted!O Thordis, could I meet—as many a timeI’ve met within the forest, face to face,My quarry, and destroyed it—could I soConfront this inward beast and grapple himTo the death-struggle,—ha! but with a dream!A spectral wolf, that lurks ever in the duskAnd tangled thickets of my brain and will,A wraith invulnerable, that makes his lairIn my bosom, that, when I would strike,I lacerate myself, draw life—myselfThe beast, the bait, the hunter and the hunted!

THORDISNay, you are still the hunter, he the quarry,Only to track him hath grown harder, forHe hath grown duskier as your mind hath dawned,And can no more take shape, as he was wont,In tangible horror to the eyes of all.Yet we will track him—you and I.

EGILBut how?

THORDISWith flaming torches we will set ablazeHis ancient wilderness, till through the gapOf sundering boughs the quiet stars shall mock him,Naked and overwhelmed.

EGILBut where? What boughs?What fire?

THORDIS[Taking up, among the instruments, a reed-pipe.]The way is wild; this pipe shall lead us.Play, Arfi!

[Sitting beside the block temple, Arfi beginsto play upon the reed.]

EGILBut this pipe—

THORDISDo you not hearHer voice alluring us? It is a wood-sprite,The elf-child Harmony.

EGILWhere can she lead us?This is a prison.

THORDISShe can lead us forthInto the beauteous world. Hark! even now—Do you not see?—the walls are crumbling, brightWith ivy-dew and morning.—Don’t you hear?The birds! the birds!—Now, Egil, now your hand!Now on the dance with me! We’ll follow herOn—to the chase!

[Taking hands, they dance whilst Arfi blows the mellowpipe. Eager, impetuous, Egil becomes kindled by thesound and motion till, in the midst, dropping Thordis’shand, he gropes toward the wall.]

EGILThe chase! the chase! the chase!Ho, torches for the chase!

ARFI[Stops playing, and rises.]A metaphorTransforms him.

EGILTorches![Stumbling against the blocks.]What is this?

ARFIOur temple;We’ve left it uncompleted.

EGILThis!—the chase!To sit block-building like a little child?To ask vague questions that await strange answers?No! do not mock me! Summon the great hunt.Hand me a torch into my gripping palm,Point where to leap, and let the whirlwinds singAnd the great jungles crash in conflagration.The wolf! reveal the wolf! that I may rendThe demon limb from limb.

ARFIHe rages blindNow in your eyes.

EGIL[Controlling himself, shudders.]Emancipate me!

ARFICome;Here let us sit, as we were boys again,And pile our blocks.

THORDISGo, Egil! Build with him.The forest-sprite has led you to her temple.

[Going to the tapestry frame, while Egil joins Arfi, shebegins to work upon the embroidery, observing fromtime to time their block-building.]

EGILA temple! Still they mock me.—’Tis a toy.

ARFIWhy, true, a toy, and yet a temple, ifThe mind bring incense here, and the bow’d heartMake sacrifice.

EGILWe are not pigmies, we,To creep under this gable.

ARFIAre we not?Are we so great? Who hath not stood beneathA sparrow’s egg-shell, speckled o’er with stars,And dwindled there with wonder? Who so smallBut hath, to quench desire, drunk of the sunOr set his parch’d lips to the moon’s pale rim?So great, so small, neither and both, our statureWaxes and wanes, inconstant as a shadow’Twixt night and noon and night. This temple, lad,Will be as cramped or spacious as the spiritWhich consecrates it.

EGILDark! Thou speakest darkness.

ARFIListen! This house of toy-wood is the altarWhere you must supplicate the immortal godsFor freedom.

EGILSo; the immortal gods! What, then,Are they that I should sue to them for freedom?

ARFIThey are the powers of the inevitableTo whom we mortals must submit our willsOr perish.

[Egil’s structure falls.]

EGILAh! it breaks. What made it fall?

ARFIA god: the same that holds these prison wallsStone upon stone; the same that mortisesThe rock-seams of the solid hills, and hangsAloft the glittering roof-tree of the world.—You builded weak, and the god chided you.

EGILAre then the gods so near?

ARFIIn all our actsWe feel the might of their invisible hands,But only in prayer behold them face to face.

EGILIn prayer?

ARFIThe abnegation of our willsFor theirs, the affirmation of their laws,Which to the god’s “Thou must” answers “I will.”

EGILAnd that is freedom?

ARFIThat alone is freedom.

EGILI will be free then, Arfi. Why, ’tis simplerThan playing with these blocks. I will be free!Teach me to pray.

ARFII cannot.

EGILTeach me, Thordis.[She shakes her head and smiles.]Alas! who will?

ARFIYourself alone.

EGILBut how?How may I know when I have learned to pray?

ARFIWhen, in the full sight of your goal of yearning,Your spirit, pausing, cries out to the gods—“This is my heart’s desire—take it—’tis yours!”That instant of renunciation willBe prayer and freedom both and the wolf’s passing-bell.[EnterWuldor;he goes to Arfi and speaks aside.]Admit him.

WULDORBut—

ARFIWhy not?

WULDORHis looks are wild,His words were bitter. When he spoke of thee,He laughed and scowled.

ARFISay we will come to him.[Exit Wuldor.]

THORDIS[Whom Arfi approaches, with a warning gesture.]Who is it?

ARFI[Aside.]Yorul; he has asked to speakWith Egil.

THORDISOught we to admit him?

ARFIIt is wise,For so may Egil measure what he isBy what he was. Look; he has knelt to pray.The time is fitting; we will leave him so.

THORDIS[Leaving the tapestry.]How noble he looks! Shall we not tell him nowAbout to-morrow?

ARFIWe will tell him allWhen he has prayed.[Exeunt.]

EGIL[Solus.]To pray—to pray is simple:“This is my heart’s desire—take it—’tis yours!”And so—emancipation. O you gods,If through these prison walls you may beholdThe mock rites of this childish temple, hear me!Knowledge—knowledge, that is my heart’s desire.That is the soul-inebriating cupWhich hath transformed me half unto your imageAnd still hath drugg’d the other brutish halfTo lethargy and dreams. To know, to learn,And evermore to learn! To watch new worldsKindling from out the dark of consciousness,Fresh firmaments gathering from drop to dropOf common morning dew; to be upborneOn the light-trailing wings of understandingAnd scan far off the former crawling-placeAnd wolf-haunt of the spirit, to spread those wingsAt one’s own will and mount into the sun,Searing the mind with ecstasy—you gods!That is my heart’s desire: take it from me!Take it, ’tis yours, for it hath come from you,But when of that you have bereft me, leaveFreedom instead, and innocence.[EnterYorul.]What’s there?Speak.

YORUL[As Egil starts up, bows himself at his feet.]Thy betrayer.

EGILOh, art thou a god?And art thou come in answer to my prayer?

YORULMaster—

EGILI know thy voice.

YORUL[Turning upward his face.]Destroy me.

EGIL[Dreamily.]Yorul!Yorul, my liegeman!

YORULOnce thou named me so;Once and the world was sweet—once and ’twassweet.

EGILWhy have they sent thee, Yorul?

YORULWho, my lord?

EGILThou art their messenger; be swift; declareTheir grace, or doom.—Shall I go free?

YORULDestroy meWith blows of steel, not of remorse. None sent me.Myself hath driven me here, here to the cellWherein my treachery consigned my master.Hear me!

EGILI hear thee, Yorul.

YORULSince that night,That bitter sunset when she—since that nightTill now, I have not left the forest, norSpoken with friend or foe; but I have stoppedMy heart in the deep silentness of treesTill it hath burst for pain. My wrong and thine,Thy wrong and mine—I dared to balance them,To let my woe condone my treacheryAnd prove it justified, as if my heartWere not itself thy vassal, and its pangsFeudal to thy desires. And so I sinnedUntil to-day.

EGILThese are enigmas. Speak!How have the gods made answer to my prayer?

YORULTo-day I met with peasants in the woodWho drove their herds of swine all garlandedWith green arbutus. Hailing me, they cried,“Why come ye not with us to Odin’s stoneAgainst to-morrow’s wedding-day?” “Who weds?”Quoth I. “Our priestess Thordis weds the dwarf;Come with us!” Then I bit my arm and vowedThat I would come to thee and speak my shame,And say, “Destroy me, lord, or let me serve thee.”

EGILPeasants they were; they said—what was’t they said?

YORUL“To-morrow our priestess Thordis”—

EGIL“Weds the dwarf!”Those were thy words; thou shalt not change them now.

YORULI would not change them.

EGILWouldst thou not? Well said!“To-morrow the maiden Thordis”—nay, not so;“To-morrow our priestess Thordis—weds the dwarf.”And all their swine were garlanded.—Was it so?

YORULEven so, and I—

EGILEven so!

YORULI vowed to come—

EGIL[Laughing.]Knowledge—knowledge—that was my heart’s desire!

YORULAnd make confession—

EGILWhy, here have I satAnd licked the crumbs of knowledge from his handAs I had been his beagle; and for what?To grow! to be transmuted from a wolfInto my brother’s ape! To evolve a mindThat knows at last the rapture it must lose.Oh, noble!

YORULAnd make confession of my crimeAs of my love.

EGIL[Beginning to pace back and forth.]Ha!

YORULFor I loved her well,More than I dreamed. Love leads us from the truthAnd blinds us to ourselves.

EGILAh!

YORULSo when IBeheld that deed—forgive me!

EGILAh!

YORULI spakeThose traitor’s words that damned thee to this cell;For I was mad. O God! the memoryMaddens me now.

EGILHa!

YORULLook not on me so,For I am weak and passionate. Take care!The truth deserts me!—Nay, forgive me, master,’Tis love is falsehood.

EGILAh!

YORULI am thy liegeman,And what was mine was thine to take, unquestioned.

EGILAh!

YORULYet my soulwouldquestion, and I claimed herIn spite of thee, for that same night—[Draws nearer and whispers.]I killed her.Mine! She is mine! Thou canst not touch her now.She lies out yonder with the virgin starsWhite and inviolable. Dead, she is mineWhom, living, ’twas thy title not to spare.Master, pity my triumph! Leave me yetThis foible of my arrogance, for whichHenceforth I am thy loyal slave, to doOr die for thee.

EGILWouldst serve me—ah?

YORULSay how!

EGILSeems thou canst kill.

YORULSpeak but that word.

[They look long at each other.]

EGIL’Tis spoken.Go!—Stay!

YORULWhat more?

EGILThine oath!—for sometimes, Yorul,The resolute grow sick with afterthought,And hot will cool—thine oath, to shun my sight,To speak not nor be spoken with, until’Tis done.

YORUL[Raising his right arm.]By Frida’s cold and virgin hand,To shun my master’s sight, to speak not, norBe spoken with, until ’tis done.

EGIL’Tis sworn;Go now.[Yorul covers his face, and exit.]To-morrow she shall wed—not him.O dupe of lovers! Bond-slave to a dwarf!O gods, your fool! your fool!

[Throwing himself down beside the temple of blocks, hedestroys it, insensate, and crouches, laughing, amid the ruins.]

[The curtain rises presently upon the same: a taper burnslow.Thordis,seated with a harp, is playing; nearherEgilstands amid the block ruins. Ceasing toplay, Thordis rises, looks at Egil (who standsoblivious), passes silently to the window andlooks out.]THORDISThe moon has set.EGIL[Stirs as from a trance.]Can, then, the eternal cease?That perfect architecture pale in air?You built again my temple of sweet soundsAnd peopled it with deathless visitants,And shed around their forms a nameless graceMedicinal as moonlight, and as calm.I walked with them, and they discoursed with me.Almost it seemed myself was one of them.—And then you ceased.THORDIS’Tis beauty’s paradoxTo prove itself immortal—and to die.EGILDie? Must this godlike transmutation lapseInto the lurking wolf again? Ah, no!That music died in labour, and its yearningHath borne a man-child, that lives after itHere in my soul. Henceforth I nevermoreMay be that groping hypocrite of prayerWhom you uplifted from this ruined altar,With passion-sealèd eyes seeking the lightOf freedom. No, henceforth I shall be strong,Clear-eyed, serene, and dauntless. See! I takeYour hand and bid you go from me.—Thou only,Thou art my heart’s desire. See! I renounce thee.Go from me, for I love you. Leave me! YetYou leave me not alone; that passionate presenceWhich the blind wrath and hunger for possessionCries out for from my clay—of that I amBereft indeed; but losing that, I gainThe stellar part of you, the exceeding lightOf fellowship and human sympathy.—Leave me! I love you.THORDISIs this Egil speaks?EGILEgil, your lover, I!THORDISThe gods are mighty,And music is the lordliest. O Egil,Thou art emancipated, and to-morrowThey will fling wide thy prison doors.—Good night![Giving him the harp.]Keep here thy god with thee.[At the door, as they clasp hands.]Brother!—Good night.[Exit.]EGILSister!—Emancipated! Mine at lastFreedom and innocence! The occult beastThat crouched beside the sweet wells of my spiritIs exorcised at last.—To-morrow dawnI shall go forth and taste the wild, spring air,And gather the hamlet children in the woodsTo pluck arbutus for her wedding-day,Her wedding-day—and his. I have renounced her.Emancipated—but I have renounced herEven for that, for freedom. What were freedomWithout—his! his! forever his own! And IAm happy, rapt, triumphant?His!What powerHath wrought in me this ignominy?[Lifting the harp.]Thou!Wast thou, imperious instrument! Wast thou,Delirious god![Fiercely he plucks out several strings.]Thou hast decoyed me![Pausing.]Still,There’s Yorul; Yorul’s true.[Wrenching with both hands the harp’s frame, he breaks itin halves, and exultant, raises them above his head,with a great breath.]Emancipated!

THORDISThe moon has set.

EGIL[Stirs as from a trance.]Can, then, the eternal cease?That perfect architecture pale in air?You built again my temple of sweet soundsAnd peopled it with deathless visitants,And shed around their forms a nameless graceMedicinal as moonlight, and as calm.I walked with them, and they discoursed with me.Almost it seemed myself was one of them.—And then you ceased.

THORDIS’Tis beauty’s paradoxTo prove itself immortal—and to die.

EGILDie? Must this godlike transmutation lapseInto the lurking wolf again? Ah, no!That music died in labour, and its yearningHath borne a man-child, that lives after itHere in my soul. Henceforth I nevermoreMay be that groping hypocrite of prayerWhom you uplifted from this ruined altar,With passion-sealèd eyes seeking the lightOf freedom. No, henceforth I shall be strong,Clear-eyed, serene, and dauntless. See! I takeYour hand and bid you go from me.—Thou only,Thou art my heart’s desire. See! I renounce thee.Go from me, for I love you. Leave me! YetYou leave me not alone; that passionate presenceWhich the blind wrath and hunger for possessionCries out for from my clay—of that I amBereft indeed; but losing that, I gainThe stellar part of you, the exceeding lightOf fellowship and human sympathy.—Leave me! I love you.

THORDISIs this Egil speaks?

EGILEgil, your lover, I!

THORDISThe gods are mighty,And music is the lordliest. O Egil,Thou art emancipated, and to-morrowThey will fling wide thy prison doors.—Good night![Giving him the harp.]Keep here thy god with thee.[At the door, as they clasp hands.]Brother!—Good night.[Exit.]

EGILSister!—Emancipated! Mine at lastFreedom and innocence! The occult beastThat crouched beside the sweet wells of my spiritIs exorcised at last.—To-morrow dawnI shall go forth and taste the wild, spring air,And gather the hamlet children in the woodsTo pluck arbutus for her wedding-day,Her wedding-day—and his. I have renounced her.Emancipated—but I have renounced herEven for that, for freedom. What were freedomWithout—his! his! forever his own! And IAm happy, rapt, triumphant?His!What powerHath wrought in me this ignominy?[Lifting the harp.]Thou!Wast thou, imperious instrument! Wast thou,Delirious god![Fiercely he plucks out several strings.]Thou hast decoyed me![Pausing.]Still,There’s Yorul; Yorul’s true.[Wrenching with both hands the harp’s frame, he breaks itin halves, and exultant, raises them above his head,with a great breath.]Emancipated!

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