Chapter 20

Wangel.

I see that well enough, Ellida; and so from to-morrow you shall have your freedom again. Hereafter you shall live your own life.

Ellida.

You call that my own life! Oh no, my own true life slid into a wrong groove when I joined it to yours. [Clenches her hands together in fear and agitation.] And now—to-night—in half an hour—the man I have forsaken will be here—the man to whom my faith should have been inviolable, as his has been to me! Now he is coming to offer me—for the last and only time—a chance of beginning life afresh—of living my own real life—the life that at once frightens and fascinates me—and that Icannotforgo. Not of my own free will!

Wangel.

That is just why you require your husband—andyour physician also—to take the power out of your hands, and to act on your behalf.

Ellida.

Yes, Wangel, I understand that very well. Oh, there are times, you may be sure, when I feel as though there would be safety and peace in clinging close to you, and trying to defy all the powers that frighten and fascinate me. But I cannot do it. No, no,—I cannot do it!

Wangel.

Come, Ellida—let us walk up and down a little.

Ellida.

I should like to; but I dare not. You know he said that I was to wait for him here.

Wangel.

Do come. You have plenty of time yet.

Ellida.

Do you think so?

Wangel.

Ample time, I assure you.

Ellida.

Let us walk a little then.

[They go out in front, to the right. At the same momentArnholmandBolettaappear by the upper bank of the pond.

Boletta.

[Catching sight of the retreating figures.] Look there——!

Arnholm.

[Softly.] Hush! Let them go.

Boletta.

Can you understand what has been passing between them these last few days?

Arnholm.

Have you noticed anything?

Boletta.

HaveI noticed——!

Arnholm.

Anything particular?

Boletta.

Oh yes; many things. Have you not?

Arnholm.

Well, I don’t quite know——

Boletta.

Yes, I am sure you have; only you won’t admit it.

Arnholm.

I think it will do your stepmother good to take this little trip.

Boletta.

Do you?

Arnholm.

Yes; I fancy it would be a good thing for every one if she were to get away a little now and then.

Boletta.

If she goes home to Skioldvik to-morrow, she will certainly never come back again.

Arnholm.

Why, my dear Boletta, what have you got into your head?

Boletta.

I am perfectly convinced of it. Just you wait! You shall see—she won’t return. Not while Hilda and I are at home, at any rate.

Arnholm.

Hilda too?

Boletta.

Well, perhaps Hilda might not matter so much. She is hardly more than a child yet; and I believe in her heart she worships Ellida. But with me it is different, you see; a stepmother who is not so very much older than oneself——

Arnholm.

My dear Boletta—you may not have so very long to wait before leaving home.

Boletta.

[Eagerly.] Do you think so? Have you spoken to father about it?

Arnholm.

Yes, I have done that too.

Boletta.

Well—and what did he say?

Arnholm.

H’m—your father is so absorbed in other thoughts just now—-

Boletta.

Yes, yes, that is just what I told you.

Arnholm.

But so much I ascertained from him, that you must not count upon any help from that quarter.

Boletta.

Not——?

Arnholm.

He put his position quite clearly before me, and showed that anything of the kind was a sheer impossibility for him.

Boletta.

[Reproachfully.] Then how could you have the heart to stand there and make game of me?

Arnholm.

Indeed I did not, dear Boletta. It depends entirely upon yourself whether you will leave home or not.

Boletta.

Depends upon me, you say?

Arnholm.

Whether you will go out into the world and learn all that your heart desires. Whether you will take part in all that, at home here, you so long for. Whether you will live your life under happier conditions, Boletta. What do you say?

Boletta.

[Clasping her hands.] Oh how glorious——! But all this is utterly impossible. If father neither will nor can——There is no one else in the whole world that I can turn to.

Arnholm.

Could you not let your old—your former tutor come to your aid?

Boletta.

You, Mr. Arnholm? Would you really——?

Arnholm.

Stand by you? Yes, with the greatest of pleasure, both in word and deed; that you may rely upon. Do you accept my offer then? Tell me! Do you consent?

Boletta.

Do I consent? To leave home—to see the world—to learn something really worth knowing—to do everything that has seemed to me most delightful and impossible——?

Arnholm.

Yes, all this is now within your reach, if only you will.

Boletta.

And you will help me to this unspeakable happiness. Oh—but tell me—canI accept so great a gift from a stranger?

Arnholm.

You can quite well accept it from me, Boletta. From me you may accept anything.

Boletta.

[Seizes his hands.] Yes, I really think I may. I don’t know how it is, but——[With an outburst of emotion.] Oh—I could both laugh and cry for joy!—for sheer happiness! Oh—to think that I shall learn what life is, after all; I was beginning to be so afraid that it would slip away from me.

Arnholm.

You need not be afraid of that, dear Boletta. But now you must tell me quite frankly whether there is anything—any tie that binds you here?

Boletta.

Any tie? No, none.

Arnholm.

None at all?

Boletta.

No, none whatever. That is,—of course father is a tie—in a way. And Hilda too. But——

Arnholm.

Well—your father you will have to leave sooner or later; and Hilda too will one day take her own path in life; that is only a question of time. But otherwise there is nothing to bind you, Boletta? No engagement of any sort?

Boletta.

No, nothing of the kind. So far as that is concerned, I can quite well go wherever I please.

Arnholm.

Well then, if that is the case, my dear Boletta—you shall come away with me.

Boletta.

[Claps her hands.] Oh great heavens—what a joy to think of!

Arnholm.

I hope you have full confidence in me?

Boletta.

Yes, indeed I have.

Arnholm.

And you can place yourself and your futurefullyfullyand fearlessly in my hands, Boletta? You feel you can, do you not?

Boletta.

Oh yes, certainly! Why should I not? Can you doubt it? You, my old tutor—my tutor in the old days, I mean.

Arnholm.

Not only because of that. I do not lay so much stress on that side of the matter. But—well—since you are free then, Boletta—since there is no tie that binds you,—I ask you—if you would be willing—willing to unite yourself to me—for life?

Boletta.

[Starts back in fear.] Oh—what are you saying?

Arnholm.

For your whole life, Boletta. Will you be my wife?

Boletta.

[Half to herself.] No, no, no! This is impossible! Utterly impossible!

Arnholm.

Is it so utterly impossible for you to——?

Boletta.

You surely cannot mean what you are saying, Mr. Arnholm? [Looks at him.] Or——Perhaps——Was this what you had in mind when—when you proposed to do so much for me?

Arnholm.

Now you must listen to me a little, Boletta. It appears I have taken you quite by surprise.

Boletta.

Oh, how could such an offer—from you,—how could it fail to—to surprise me?

Arnholm.

No doubt you are right. You did not know, of course,—you could not know, that it was for your sake I came here just now.

Boletta.

Did you come here for—for my sake?

Arnholm.

Yes, I did, Boletta. I got a letter from your father this spring—and in it was a phrase which led me to believe—h’m—that you had kept your former tutor in—in a little more than friendly remembrance.

Boletta.

How could father say such a thing?

Arnholm.

It appears that was not what he meant at all.But in the meantime I had accustomed myself to the thought that here was a young girl waiting and longing for me to come again.—No, you mustn’t interrupt me, dear Boletta! And, you see,—when a man, like myself, is no longer in the first flush of youth, such a belief—or illusion—makes an exceedingly strong impression. A vivid—a grateful affection for you grew up within me. I felt I must come to you; see you again; tell you that I shared the feelings which I imagined you entertained for me.

Boletta.

But now, when you know that it was not so! That it was a mistake!

Arnholm.

That makes no difference, Boletta. Your image—as it dwells in my heart—will always remain coloured and thrown into relief by the feeling that mistake aroused in me. Perhaps you cannot understand this; but so it is.

Boletta.

I never dreamed that anything of the kind was possible.

Arnholm.

But now that you see it is——? What do you say, Boletta? Can you not make up your mind to—to be my wife?

Boletta.

Oh, it seems so utterly impossible, Mr. Arnholm. You, who have been my teacher! I cannot imagine myself standing in any other kind of relation to you.

Arnholm.

Well, well—if you feel absolutely sure that you cannot—then the relation between us remains unaltered, my dear Boletta.

Boletta.

How do you mean?

Arnholm.

Of course I stand to my proposition, none the less. I will take care that you get away from home and see something of the world. I will enable you to learn what you really want to, and live in security and independence. Your more distant future, too, I will provide for, Boletta. In me you will always have a firm, steadfast friend to rely upon. Be sure of that!

Boletta.

Oh dear—Mr. Arnholm—all this has become quite impossible now.

Arnholm.

Is this impossible too?

Boletta.

Yes, surely you can see it is! After what you have said to me—and after the answer I have given you——. Oh, you must surely understand that I cannot accept such great favours from you! I can accept nothing in the world from you; never after this!

Arnholm.

Then would you rather stay at home here and let life slip away from you?

Boletta.

Oh, it is torture to think of it!

Arnholm.

Will you renounce all hope of seeing something of the outer world? Renounce your chance of taking part in all that you say you are thirsting for? Can you know that life has such infinite possibilities—and yet be content to realise no single one of them? Think well, Boletta.

Boletta.

Yes, yes—you are quite right, Mr. Arnholm.

Arnholm.

And then—when your father is no longer with you—you might find yourself helpless and alone in the world. Or you might have to give yourself to another man—whom you—possibly—might not be able to care for, any more than for me.

Boletta.

Oh yes,—I see quite well how true it is—all that you say. But still—!——Or perhaps, after all——

Arnholm.

[Quickly.] Well!

Boletta.

[Looks at him, undecided.] Perhaps it might not be utterly impossible after all——

Arnholm.

What, Boletta?

Boletta.

That I might—perhaps agree to—what—what you proposed to me.

Arnholm.

Do you mean that perhaps you might——? That at least you would grant me the happiness of coming to your aid as a faithful friend?

Boletta.

No, no, no! Never that!Thatwould be absolutely impossible now. No—Mr. Arnholm—I had rather you should take me——

Arnholm.

Boletta! Will you——!

Boletta.

Yes,—I think—I will.

Arnholm.

You will be my wife?

Boletta.

Yes; if you still think you—ought to take me.

Arnholm.

If I think——! [Seizes her hand.] Oh thanks, thanks, Boletta! What you have been saying—your hesitation at first—that does not alarm me. If I do not fully possess your heart as yet, I shall know how to win it. Oh Boletta, how I will treasure you!

Boletta.

And I am to see the world; to take part in its life; you have promised me that.

Arnholm.

And I hold to it.

Boletta.

And I am to learn everything I want to.

Arnholm.

I myself will be your teacher, as in the old days, Boletta. Think of the last year you were my pupil——

Boletta.

[In quiet self-absorption.] Fancy,—to know oneself free—to go out into the unknown world! And then to have no care for the future; no constant fears about miserable money——

Arnholm.

No, you shall never have to waste a thought on such things. And, my dear Boletta, that is a good thing too, in its way—isn’t it now?

Boletta.

Yes, it is indeed. I know it is.

Arnholm.

[Putting his arm round her waist.] Oh you shall see how cosily and comfortably we will arrange our life! And what peace and confidence there will be between us, Boletta!

Boletta.

Yes, I begin to——. I really think—that we ought to get on together. [Looks out to the right, and hurriedly disengages herself.] Ah! Please don’t say anything about it!

Arnholm.

What is the matter, dear?

Boletta.

Oh, it’s that poor——[Points.] Over there.

Arnholm.

Is it your father——?

Boletta.

No, it’s the young sculptor. He is walking over there with Hilda.

Arnholm.

Oh, Lyngstrand. Why should you trouble about him?

Boletta.

Oh you know how delicate and ill he is.

Arnholm.

Yes, if it isn’t all his imagination.

Boletta.

No, it is real; he cannot live long. But perhaps it is best for him.

Arnholm.

How best for him, my dear?

Boletta.

Well because,—because I don’t think much would come of his art in any case.—Let us go before they come.

Arnholm.

By all means, my dear Boletta.

[HildaandLyngstrandappear beside the pond.

Hilda.

Hi! Hi! Won’t you condescend to wait for us?

Arnholm.

Boletta and I would rather go on ahead.

[He andBolettago out to the left.

Lyngstrand.

[Laughs quietly.] It is quite amusing here just now; everybody goes in couples; always two and two together.

Hilda.

[Looks after them.] I could almost swear that he is making love to her.

Lyngstrand.

Really? Have you seen anything to make you think so?

Hilda.

Oh yes. It’s easy to see it—if you keep your eyes about you.

Lyngstrand.

But Miss Boletta will not have him. I am sure of that.

Hilda.

No. She thinks he looks so frightfully old; and she’s afraid he’ll soon be bald too.

Lyngstrand.

Ah, I don’t mean only because of that. She would not have him in any case.

Hilda.

How can you know that?

Lyngstrand.

Well, because there is some one else she has promised to keep in her thoughts.

Hilda.

Only to keep in her thoughts?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, while he is away.

Hilda.

Oh, then I suppose it’s you she is to keep in her thoughts.

Lyngstrand.

Possibly.

Hilda.

Has she promised you that?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, only think—she has promised me that! But please, please don’t tell her that you know about it.

Hilda.

Oh, don’t be afraid: I am as silent as the grave.

Lyngstrand.

I think it is so tremendously kind of her.

Hilda.

And then, when you come home again—is it to be an engagement? Are you going to marry her?

Lyngstrand.

No, I scarcely think that would do. You see, marriage is out of the question for me for a few years yet; and then, when I have made my way, she will be a bit too old for me, I fancy.

Hilda.

And yet you want her to go on thinking of you?

Lyngstrand.

Yes; for it would help me so much; as an artist, you understand. And she, having no special vocation of her own in life, can so easily do it.—But it is kind of her, all the same.

Hilda.

Do you think, then, that you can get on quicker with your group if you know that Boletta is thinking of you at home here?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, I imagine so. You see, the knowledge that somewhere in the world a young, exquisite, silent woman is secretly dreaming of one—I think it must be so—so——. Well, I scarcely know what to call it.

Hilda.

Do you mean—thrilling?

Lyngstrand.

Thrilling? Oh yes. It is thrilling I mean; orsomething of that sort. [Looks at her a moment.] You are so bright, Miss Hilda; really you are very bright, you know. When I come home again you will be just about as old as your sister is now. Perhaps you will look as she looks now; and perhaps you will have grown like her in mind as well. Very likely you will be, as it were, both yourself and her—in one body, so to speak.

Hilda.

Would that please you?

Lyngstrand.

I don’t quite know. Yes, I almost think so. But now—for this summer—I prefer you to be like yourself alone—just exactly as you are.

Hilda.

Do you like me best so?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, I like you exceedingly as you are.

Hilda.

H’m,—tell me,—as an artist—do you think I do right in always wearing light summer dresses?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, I think you do perfectly right.

Hilda.

Then you think bright colours suit me?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, charmingly, to my taste.

Hilda.

But tell me—as an artist—how do you think I should look in black?

Lyngstrand.

In black, Miss Hilda?

Hilda.

Yes, all in black. Do you think I should look nice?

Lyngstrand.

Black is scarcely the thing for the summer-time. But for that matter I am sure you would look extremely well in black too. Yes, you have just the figure for it.

Hilda.

[Gazing before her.] In black right up to the neck—a black ruffle—black gloves and a long black veil behind.

Lyngstrand.

If you were dressed like that, Miss Hilda, I should long to be a painter—so that I might paint a young, lovely, broken-hearted widow.

Hilda.

Or a young girl mourning for her betrothed.

Lyngstrand.

Yes, that would suit you still better. But you can’t wish to dress yourself like that?

Hilda.

I don’t know; I think it is thrilling.

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