ACT THIRD

Asta.

Yes, it was, Alfred. But we can never live it over again.

Allmers.

[Bitterly.] Do you mean that marriage has so irreparably ruined me?

Asta.

[Quietly] No, that is not what I mean.

Allmers.

Well, then we two will live our old life over again.

Asta.

[With decision.] We cannot, Alfred.

Allmers.

Yes, we can. For the love of a brother and sister——

Asta.

[Eagerly.] What of it?

Allmers.

That is the only relation in life that is not subject to the law of change.

Asta.

[Softly and tremblingly.] But if that relation were not——

Allmers.

Not——?

Asta.

——not our relation?

Allmers.

[Stares at her in astonishment.] Not ours? Why, what can you mean by that?

Asta.

It is best I should tell you at once, Alfred.

Allmers.

Yes, yes; tell me!

Asta.

The letters to mother——. Those in my portfolio——

Allmers.

Well?

Asta.

You must read them—when I am gone.

Allmers.

Why must I?

Asta.

[Struggling with herself.] For then you will see that——

Allmers.

Well?

Asta.

—that I have no right to bear your father’s name.

Allmers.

[Staggering backwards.] Asta! What is this you say!

Asta.

Read the letters. Then you will see—and understand. And perhaps have some forgiveness—for mother, too.

Allmers.

[Clutching at his forehead.] I cannot grasp this—I cannot realise the thought. You, Asta—you are not——

Asta.

You are not my brother, Alfred.

Allmers.

[Quickly, half defiantly, looking at her.] Well, but what difference does that really make in our relation? Practically none at all.

Asta.

[Shaking her head.] It makes all the difference, Alfred. Our relation is not that of brother and sister.

Allmers.

No, no. But it is none the less sacred for that—it will always be equally sacred.

Asta.

Do not forget—that it is subject to the law of change, as you said just now.

Allmers.

[Looks inquiringly at her.] Do you mean that——

Asta.

[Quietly, but with warm emotion.] Not a word more—my dear, dear Alfred. [Takes up the flowers from the chair.] Do you see these water-lilies?

Allmers.

[Nodding slowly.] They are the sort that shoot up—from the very depth.

Asta.

I pulled them in the tarn—where it flows out into the fiord. [Holds them out to him.] Will you take them, Alfred?

Allmers.

[Taking them.] Thanks.

Asta.

[With tears in her eyes.] They are a last greeting to you, from—from little Eyolf.

Allmers.

[Looking at her.] From Eyolf out yonder? Or from you?

Asta.

[Softly.] From both of us. [Taking up her umbrella.] Now come with me to Rita.

[She goes up the wood-path.

Allmers.

[Takes up his hat from the table, and whispers sadly.] Asta. Eyolf. Little Eyolf——!

[He follows her up the path.

ACT THIRD

An elevation, overgrown with shrubs, inAllmers’sgarden. At the back a sheer cliff, with a railing along its edge, and with steps on the left leading downwards. An extensive view over the fiord, which lies deep below. A flagstaff with lines, but no flag, stands by the railing. In front, on the right, a summer-house, covered with creepers and wild vines. Outside it, a bench. It is a late summer evening, with clear sky. Deepening twilight.

Astais sitting on the bench, with her hands in her lap. She is wearing her outdoor dress and a hat, has her parasol at her side, and a little travelling-bag on a strap over her shoulder.

Borgheimcomes up from the back on the left. He, too, has a travelling-bag over his shoulder. He is carrying a rolled-up flag.

Borgheim.

[Catching sight ofAsta.] Oh, so you are up here!

Asta.

Yes, I am taking my last look out over the fiord.

Borgheim.

Then I am glad I happened to come up.

Asta.

Have you been searching for me?

Borgheim.

Yes, I have. I wanted to say good-bye to you—for the present. Not for good and all, I hope.

Asta.

[With a faint smile.] You are persevering.

Borgheim.

A road-maker has got to be.

Asta.

Have you seen anything of Alfred? Or of Rita?

Borgheim.

Yes, I saw them both.

Asta.

Together?

Borgheim.

No—apart.

Asta.

What are you going to do with that flag?

Borgheim.

Mrs. Allmers asked me to come up and hoist it.

Asta.

Hoist a flag just now?

Borgheim.

Half-mast high. She wants it to fly both night and day, she says.

Asta.

[Sighing.] Poor Rita! And poor Alfred!

Borgheim.

[Busied with the flag.] Have you the heart to leave them? I ask, because I see you are in travelling-dress.

Asta.

[In a low voice.] Imustgo.

Borgheim.

Well, if you must, then——

Asta.

And you are going, too, to-night?

Borgheim.

I must, too. I am going by the train. Are you going that way?

Asta.

No. I shall take the steamer.

Borgheim.

[Glancing at her.] We each take our own way, then?

Asta.

Yes.

[She sits and looks on while he hoists the flag half-mast high. When he has done he goes up to her.

Borgheim.

Miss Asta——you can’t think how grieved I am about little Eyolf.

Asta.

[Looks up at him.] Yes, I am sure you feel it deeply.

Borgheim.

And the feeling tortures me. For the fact is, grief is not much in my way.

Asta.

[Raising her eyes to the flag.] It will pass over in time—all of it. All our sorrow.

Borgheim.

All? Do you believe that?

Asta.

Like a squall at sea. When once you have got far away from here, then——

Borgheim.

It will have to be very far away indeed.

Asta.

And then you have this great new road-work, too.

Borgheim.

But no one to help me in it.

Asta.

Oh yes, surely you have.

Borgheim.

[Shaking his head.] No one. No one to share the gladness with. For it is gladness that most needs sharing.

Asta.

Not the labour and trouble?

Borgheim.

Pooh—that sort of thing one can always get through alone.

Asta.

But the gladness—that must be shared with some one, you think?

Borgheim.

Yes; for if not, where would be the pleasure in being glad?

Asta.

Ah yes—perhaps there is something in that.

Borgheim.

Oh, of course, for a certain time you can go on feeling glad in your own heart. But it won’t do in the long run. No, it takes two to be glad.

Asta.

Always two? Never more? Never many?

Borgheim.

Well, you see—then it becomes a quite different matter. Miss Asta—are you sure you can never make up your mind to share gladness and success and—and labour and trouble, with one—with one alone in all the world?

Asta.

I have tried it—once.

Borgheim.

Have you?

Asta.

Yes, all the time that my brother—that Alfred and I lived together.

Borgheim.

Oh, with your brother, yes. But that is altogether different. That ought rather to be called peace than happiness, I should say.

Asta.

It was delightful, all the same.

Borgheim.

There now—you see even that seemed to you delightful. But just think now—if he had not been your brother!

Asta.

[Makes a movement to rise, but remains sitting.] Then we should never have been together. For I was a child then—and he wasn’t much more.

Borgheim.

[After a pause.]Wasit so delightful—that time?

Asta.

Oh yes, indeed it was.

Borgheim.

Was there much that was really bright and happy in your life then?

Asta.

Oh yes, so much. You cannot think how much.

Borgheim.

Tell me a little about it, Miss Asta.

Asta.

Oh, there are only trifles to tell.

Borgheim.

Such as——? Well?

Asta.

Such as the time when Alfred had passed his examination—and had distinguished himself. And then, from time to time, when he got a post in some school or other. Or when he would sit at home working at an article—and would read it aloud to me. And then when it would appear in some magazine.

Borgheim.

Yes, I can quite see that it must have been a peaceful, delightful life—a brother and sistersharing all their joys. [Shaking his head.] What I cannot understand is that your brother could ever give you up, Asta.

Asta.

[With suppressed emotion.] Alfred married, you know.

Borgheim.

Was not that very hard for you?

Asta.

Yes, at first. It seemed as though I had utterly lost him all at once.

Borgheim.

Well, luckily it was not so bad as that.

Asta.

No.

Borgheim.

But, all the same—how could he! Go and marry, I mean—when he could have kept you with him, alone!

Asta.

[Looking straight in front of her.] He was subject to the law of change, I suppose.

Borgheim.

The law of change?

Asta.

So Alfred calls it.

Borgheim.

Pooh—what a stupid law that must be! I don’t believe a bit in that law.

Asta.

[Rising.] You may come to believe in it, in time.

Borgheim.

Never in all my life! [Insistently.] But listen now, Miss Asta! Do be reasonable—for once in a way—in this matter, I mean——

Asta.

[Interrupting him.] Oh, no, no—don’t let us begin uponthatagain!

Borgheim.

[Continuing as before.] Yes, Asta—I can’t possibly give you up so easily. Now your brother has everything as he wishes it. He can live his life quite contentedly without you. He doesn’t require you at all. Then this—this—that at one blow has changed your whole position here——

Asta.

[With a start.] What do you mean by that?

Borgheim.

The loss of the child. What else should I mean?

Asta.

[Recovering her self-control.] Little Eyolf is gone, yes.

Borgheim.

And what more does that leave you to do here? You have not the poor little boy to take care of now. You have no duties—no claims upon you of any sort.

Asta.

Oh, please, Mr. Borgheim—don’t make it so hard for me.

Borgheim.

I must; I should be mad if I did not try my uttermost. I shall be leaving town before very long, and perhaps I shall have no opportunity of meeting you there. Perhaps I shall not see you again for a long, long time. And who knows what may happen in the meanwhile?

Asta.

[With a grave smile.] So you are afraid of the law of change, after all?

Borgheim.

No, not in the least. [Laughing bitterly.] And there is nothing to be changed, either—not in you, I mean. For I can see you don’t care much about me.

Asta.

You know very well that I do.

Borgheim.

Perhaps, but not nearly enough. Not as I want you to. [More forcibly.] By Heaven,Asta—Miss Asta—I cannot tell you how strongly I feel that you are wrong in this! A little onward, perhaps, from to-day and tomorrow, all life’s happiness may be awaiting us. And we must needs pass it by! Do you think we will not come to repent of it, Asta?

Asta.

[Quietly.] I don’t know. I only know that they are not for us—all these bright possibilities.

Borgheim.

[Looks at her with self-control.] Then I must make my roads alone?

Asta.

[Warmly.] Oh, how I wish I could stand by you in it all! Help you in the labour—share the gladness with you——

Borgheim.

Would you—if you could?

Asta.

Yes, that I would.

Borgheim.

But you cannot?

Asta.

[Looking down.] Would you be content to have only half of me?

Borgheim.

No. You must be utterly and entirely mine.

Asta.

[Looks at him, and says quietly.] Then I cannot.

Borgheim.

Good-bye then, Miss Asta.

[He is on the point of going.Allmerscomes up from the left at the back.Borgheimstops.

Allmers.

[The moment he has reached the top of the steps, points, and says in a low voice.] Is Rita in there—in the summer-house?

Borgheim.

No; there is no one here but Miss Asta.

[Allmerscomes forward.

Asta.

[Going towards him.] Shall I go down and look for her? Shall I get her to come up here?

Allmers.

[With a negative gesture.] No, no, no—let it alone. [ToBorgheim.] Is it you that have hoisted the flag?

Borgheim.

Yes. Mrs. Allmers asked me to. That was what brought me up here.

Allmers.

And you are going to start to-night?

Borgheim.

Yes. To-night I go away in good earnest.

Allmers.

[With a glance atAsta.] And you have made sure of pleasant company, I daresay.

Borgheim.

[Shaking his head.] I am going alone.

Allmers.

[With surprise.] Alone!

Borgheim.

Utterly alone.

Allmers.

[Absently.] Indeed?

Borgheim.

And I shall have to remain alone, too.

Allmers.

There is something horrible in being alone. The thought of it runs like ice through my blood——

Asta.

Oh, but, Alfred, you are not alone.

Allmers.

There may be something horrible in that too, Asta.

Asta.

[Oppressed.] Oh, don’t talk like that! Don’t think like that!

Allmers.

[Not listening to her.] But since you are not going with him——? Since there is nothing to bind you——? Why will you not remain out here with me—and with Rita?

Asta.

[Uneasily.] No, no, I cannot. I must go back to town now.

Allmers.

But only in to town, Asta. Do you hear!

Asta.

Yes.

Allmers.

And you must promise me that you will soon come out again.

Asta.

[Quickly.] No, no, I dare not promise you that, for the present.

Allmers.

Well—as you will. We shall soon meet in town, then.

Asta.

[Imploringly.] But, Alfred, you must stay at home here with Rita now.

Allmers.

[Without answering, turns toBorgheim.] You may find it a good thing, after all, that you have to take your journey alone.

Borgheim.

[Annoyed.] Oh, how can you say such a thing?

Allmers.

You see, you can never tell whom you might happen to meet afterwards—on the way.

Asta.

[Involuntarily.] Alfred!

Allmers.

The right fellow-traveller—when it is too late—too late.

Asta.

[Softly, quivering.] Alfred! Alfred!

Borgheim.

[Looking from one to the other.] What is the meaning of this? I don’t understand——

[Ritacomes up from the left at the back.

Rita.

[Plaintively.] Oh, don’t go away from me, all of you!

Asta.

[Going towards her.] You said you preferred to be alone.

Rita.

Yes, but I dare not. It is getting so horribly dark. I seem to see great, open eyes fixed upon me!

Asta.

[Tenderly and sympathetically.] What if it were so, Rita? You ought not to be afraid of those eyes.

Rita.

How can you say so! Not afraid!

Allmers.

[Insistently.] Asta, I beg you—for Heaven’s sake—remain here with Rita!

Rita.

Yes! And with Alfred, too. Do! Do, Asta!

Asta.

[Struggling with herself.] Oh, I want to so much——

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