Chapter 4

Allmers.

Yes, that will be much better. But do you keep your mother’s letters—you haven’t so many mementos of her.

[He handsAstathe portfolio. She takes it, and lays it on the chair under her outdoor things.Ritacomes into the room again.

Rita.

Ugh! I feel as if that horrible old woman had brought a sort of graveyard smell with her.

Allmers.

Yes, she was rather horrible.

Rita.

I felt almost sick while she was in the room.

Allmers.

However, I can very well understand the sort of spellbound fascination that she talked about. The loneliness of the mountain-peaks and of the great waste places has something of the same magic about it.

Asta.

[Looks attentively at him.] What is it that has happened to you, Alfred?

Allmers.

[Smiling.] To me?

Asta.

Yes, something has happened—something seems almost to have transformed you. Rita noticed it too.

Rita.

Yes, I saw it the moment you came. A change for the better, I hope, Alfred?

Allmers.

Itoughtto be for the better. And it must and shall come to good.

Rita.

[With an outburst.] You have had some adventure on your journey! Don’t deny it! I can see it in your face!

Allmers.

[Shaking his head.] No adventure in the world—outwardly at least. But——

Rita.

[Eagerly.] But——?

Allmers.

It is true that within me there has been something of a revolution.

Rita.

Oh Heavens——!

Allmers.

[Soothingly, patting her hand.] Only for the better, my dear Rita. You may be perfectly certain of that.

Rita.

[Seats herself on the sofa.] You must tell us all about it, at once—tell us everything!

Allmers.

[Turning toAsta.] Yes, let us sit down, too, Asta. Then I will try to tell you as well as I can.

[He seats himself on the sofa atRita’sside.Astamoves a chair forward, and places herself near him.

Rita.

[Looking at him expectantly.] Well——?

Allmers.

[Gazing straight before him.] When I look back over my life—and my fortunes—for the last ten or eleven years, it seems to me almost like a fairy-tale or a dream. Don’t you think so too, Asta?

Asta.

Yes, in many ways I think so.

Allmers.

[Continuing.] When I remember what we two used to be, Asta—we two poor orphan children——

Rita.

[Impatiently.] Oh, that is such an old, old story.

Allmers.

[Not listening to her.] And now here I am in comfort and luxury. I have been able to follow my vocation. I have been able to work and study—just as I had always longed to. [Holds out his hand.] And all this great—this fabulous good fortune we owe to you, my dearest Rita.

Rita.

[Half playfully, half angrily, slaps his hand.] Oh, I do wish you would stop talking like that.

Allmers.

I speak of it only as a sort of introduction.

Rita.

Then do skip the introduction!

Allmers.

Rita,—you must not think it was the doctor’s advice that drove me up to the mountains.

Asta.

Was it not, Alfred?

Rita.

What was it, then?

Allmers.

It was this: I found there was no more peace for me, there in my study.

Rita.

No peace! Why, who disturbed you?

Allmers.

[Shaking his head.] No one from without. But I felt as though I were positively abusing—or, say rather, wasting—my best powers—frittering away the time.

Asta.

[With wide eyes.] When you were writing at your book?

Allmers.

[Nodding.] For I cannot think that my powers are confined to that alone. I must surely have it in me to do one or two other things as well.

Rita.

Was that what you sat there brooding over?

Allmers.

Yes, mainly that.

Rita.

And so that is what has made you so discontented with yourself of late; and with the rest of us as well. For you know you were discontented, Alfred.

Allmers.

[Gazing straight before him.] There I sat bent over my table, day after day, and often half the night too—writing and writing at the great thick book on “Human Responsibility.” H’m!

Asta.

[Laying her hand upon his arm.] But, Alfred—that book is to be your life-work.

Rita.

Yes, you have said so often enough.

Allmers.

I thought so. Ever since I grew up, I have thought so. [With an affectionate expression in his eyes.] And it was you that enabled me to devote myself to it, my dear Rita——

Rita.

Oh, nonsense!

Allmers.

[Smiling to her.]—you, with your gold, and your green forests——

Rita.

[Half laughing, half vexed.] If you begin all that rubbish again, I shall beat you.

Asta.

[Looking sorrowfully at him.] But the book, Alfred?

Allmers.

It began, as it were, to drift away from me. But I was more and more beset by the thought of the higher duties that laid their claims upon me.

Rita.

[Beaming, seizes his hand.] Alfred!

Allmers.

The thought of Eyolf, my dear Rita.

Rita.

[Disappointed, drops his hand.] Ah—of Eyolf!

Allmers.

Poor little Eyolf has taken deeper and deeper hold of me. After that unlucky fall from the table—and especially since we have been assured that the injury is incurable——

Rita.

[Insistently.] But you take all the care you possibly can of him, Alfred!

Allmers.

As a schoolmaster, yes; but not as a father.And it is a father that I want henceforth to be to Eyolf.

Rita.

[Looking at him and shaking her head.] I don’t think I quite understand you.

Allmers.

I mean that I will try with all my might to make his misfortune as painless and easy to him as it can possibly be.

Rita.

Oh, but, dear—thank Heaven, I don’t think he feels it so deeply.

Asta.

[With emotion.] Yes, Rita, he does.

Allmers.

Yes, you may be sure he feels it deeply.

Rita.

[Impatiently.] But, Alfred, what more can you do for him?

Allmers.

I will try to perfect all the rich possibilities that are dawning in his childish soul. I will foster all the noble germs in his nature—make them blossom and bear fruit. [With more and more warmth, rising.] And I will do more than that! I will help him to bring his desires into harmony with what lies attainable before him. That is just what at present they are not.All his longings are for things that must for ever remain unattainable to him. But I will create a conscious happiness in his mind.

[He goes once or twice up and down the room.AstaandRitafollow him with their eyes.

Rita.

You should take these things more quietly, Alfred!

Allmers.

[Stops beside the table on the left, and looks at them.] Eyolf shall carry on my life-work—if he wants to. Or he shall choose one that is altogether his own. Perhaps that would be best. At all events, I shall let mine rest as it is.

Rita.

[Rising.] But, Alfred dear, can you not work both for yourself and for Eyolf?

Allmers.

No, I cannot. It is impossible! I cannot divide myself in this matter—and therefore I efface myself. Eyolf shall be the complete man of our race. And it shall be my new life-work to make him the complete man.

Asta.

[Has risen and now goes up to him.] This must have cost you a terribly hard struggle, Alfred?

Allmers.

Yes, it has. At home here, I should never have conquered myself, never brought myself to the point of renunciation. Never at home!

Rita.

Then that was why you went away this summer?

Allmers.

[With shining eyes.] Yes! I went up into the infinite solitudes. I saw the sunrise gleaming on the mountain peaks. I felt myself nearer the stars—I seemed almost to be in sympathy and communion with them. And then I found the strength for it.

Asta.

[Looking sadly at him.] But you will never write any more of your book on "Human Responsibility"?

Allmers.

No, never, Asta. I tell you I cannot split up my life between two vocations. But I will act out my "human responsibility"—in my own life.

Rita.

[With a smile.] Do you think you can live up to such high resolves at home here?

Allmers.

[Taking her hand.] With you to help me, I can. [Holds out the other hand.] And with you too, Asta.

Rita.

[Drawing her hand away.] Ah—with both of us! So, after all, youcandivide yourself.

Allmers.

Why, my dearest Rita——!

[Ritamoves away from him and stands in the garden doorway. A light and rapid knock is heard at the door on the right. EngineerBorgheimenters quickly. He is a young man of a little over thirty. His expression is bright and cheerful, and he holds himself erect.

Borgheim.

Good morning, Mrs. Allmers. [Stops with an expression of pleasure on seeingAllmers.] Why, what’s this? Home again already, Mr. Allmers?

Allmers.

[Shaking hands with him.] Yes, I arrived last night.

Rita.

[Gaily.] His leave was up, Mr. Borgheim.

Allmers.

No, you know it wasn’t, Rita——

Rita.

[Approaching.] Oh yes, but it was, though. His furlough had run out.

Borgheim.

I see you hold your husband well in hand, Mrs. Allmers.

Rita.

I hold to my rights. And besides, everything must have an end.

Borgheim.

Oh, not everything—I hope. Good morning, Miss Allmers!

Asta.

[Holding aloof from him.] Good morning.

Rita.

[Looking atBorgheim.] Not everything, you say?

Borgheim.

Oh, I am firmly convinced that there aresomethings in the world that will never come to an end.

Rita.

I suppose you are thinking of love—and that sort of thing.

Borgheim.

[Warmly.] I am thinking of all that is lovely!

Rita.

And that never comes to an end. Yes, let us think of that, hope for that, all of us.

Allmers.

[Coming up to them.] I suppose you will soon have finished your road-work out here?

Borgheim.

I have finished it already—finished it yesterday. It has been a long business, but, thank Heaven,thathas come to an end.

Rita.

And you are beaming with joy over that?

Borgheim.

Yes, I am indeed!

Rita.

Well, I must say——

Borgheim.

What, Mrs. Allmers?

Rita.

I don’t think it is particularly nice of you, Mr. Borgheim.

Borgheim.

Indeed! Why not?

Rita.

Well, I suppose we sha’n’t often see you in these parts after this.

Borgheim.

No, thatNo, thatis true. I hadn’t thought of that.

Rita.

Oh well, I suppose you will be able to look in upon us now and then all the same.

Borgheim.

No, unfortunately that will be out of my power for a very long time.

Allmers.

Indeed! How so?

Borgheim.

The fact is, I have got a big piece of new work that I must set about at once.

Allmers.

Have you indeed?—[Pressing his hand.]—I am heartily glad to hear it.

Rita.

I congratulate you, Mr. Borgheim!

Borgheim.

Hush, hush—I really ought not to talk openly of it as yet! But I can’t help coming out with it! It is a great piece of road-making—up in the north—with mountain ranges to cross, and the most tremendous difficulties to overcome!—[With an outburst of gladness.]—Oh, what a glorious world this is—and what a joy it is to be a road-maker in it!

Rita.

[Smiling, and looking teasingly at him.] Is it road-making business that has brought you out here to-day in such wild spirits?

Borgheim.

No, not that alone. I am thinking of all the bright and hopeful prospects that are opening out before me.

Rita.

Aha, then perhaps you have something still more exquisite in reserve!

Borgheim.

[Glancing towardsAsta.] Who knows! When once happiness comes to us, it is apt to come like a spring flood. [Turns toAsta.] Miss Allmers, would you not like to take a little walk with me? As we used to?

Asta.

[Quickly.] No—no, thank you. Not now. Not to-day.

Borgheim.

Oh, do come! Only a little bit of a walk! I have so much I want to talk to you about before I go.

Rita.

Something else, perhaps, that you must not talk openly about as yet?

Borgheim.

H’m, that depends——

Rita.

But there is nothing to prevent your whispering, you know. [Half aside.] Asta, you must really go with him.

Asta.

But, my dear Rita——

Borgheim.

[Imploringly.] Miss Asta—remember it is to be a farewell walk—the last for many a day.

Asta.

[Takes her hat and parasol.] Very well, suppose we take a stroll in the garden, then.

Borgheim.

Oh, thank you, thank you!

Allmers.

And while you are there you can see what Eyolf is doing.

Borgheim.

Ah, Eyolf, by the bye! Where is Eyolf to-day? I’ve got something for him.

Allmers.

He is out playing somewhere.

Borgheim.

Is he really! Then he has begun to play now? He used always to be sitting indoors over his books.

Allmers.

There is to be an end of that now. I am going to make a regular open-air boy of him.

Borgheim.

Ah, now, that’s right! Out into the open air with him, poor little fellow! Good Lord, what can we possibly do better than play in this blessed world? For my part, I think all life is one long playtime!—Come, Miss Asta!

[BorgheimandAstago out on the verandah and down through the garden.

Allmers.

[Stands looking after them.] Rita—do you think there is anything between those two?

Rita.

I don’t know what to say. I used to think there was. But Asta has grown so strange to me—so utterly incomprehensible of late.

Allmers.

Indeed! Has she? While I have been away?

Rita.

Yes, within the last week or two.

Allmers.

And you think she doesn’t care very much about him now?

Rita.

Not seriously; not utterly and entirely; not unreservedly—I am sure she doesn’t. [Looks searchingly at him.] Would it displease you if she did?

Allmers.

It would not exactly displease me. But it would certainly be a disquieting thought——

Rita.

Disquieting?

Allmers.

Yes; you must remember that I am responsible for Asta—for her life’s happiness.

Rita.

Oh, come—responsible! Surely Asta has come to years of discretion? I should say she was capable of choosing for herself.

Allmers.

Yes, we must hope so, Rita.

Rita.

For my part, I don’t think at all ill of Borgheim.

Allmers.

No, dear—no more do I—quite the contrary. But all the same——

Rita.

[Continuing.] And I should be very glad indeed if he and Asta were to make a match of it.

Allmers.

[Annoyed.] Oh, why should you be?

Rita.

[With increasing excitement.] Why, for then she would have to go far, far away with him! And she could never come out here to us, as she does now.

Allmers.

[Stares at her in astonishment.] What! Can you really wish Asta to go away?

Rita.

Yes, yes, Alfred!

Allmers.

Why in all the world——?

Rita.

[Throwing her arms passionately round his neck.] For then, at last, I should have you to myself alone! And yet—not even then! Not wholly to myself! [Bursts into convulsive weeping.] Oh, Alfred, Alfred—I cannot give you up!

Allmers.

[Gently releasing himself.] My dearest Rita, do be reasonable!

Rita.

I don’t care a bit about being reasonable! I care only for you! Only for you in all the world! [Again throwing her arms round his neck.] For you, for you, for you!

Allmers.

Let me go, let me go—you are strangling me!

Rita.

[Letting him go.] How I wish I could! [Looking at him with flashing eyes.] Oh, if you knew how I have hated you——!

Allmers.

Hated me——!

Rita.

Yes—when you shut yourself up in your room and brooded over your work—till long, long into the night. [Plaintively.] So long, so late, Alfred. Oh, how I hated your work!

Allmers.

But now I have done with that.

Rita.

[With a cutting laugh.] Oh yes! Now you have given yourself up to something worse.

Allmers.

[Shocked.] Worse! Do you call our child something worse?

Rita.

[Vehemently.] Yes, I do. As he comes between you and me, I call him so. For the book—the book was not a living being, as the child is. [With increasing impetuosity.] But I won’t endure it, Alfred! I will not endure it—I tell you so plainly!

Allmers.

[Looks steadily at her, and says in a low voice.] I am often almost afraid of you, Rita.

Rita.

[Gloomily.] I am often afraid of myself. And for that very reason you must not awake the evil in me.

Allmers.

Why, good Heavens, do I do that?

Rita.

Yes, you do—when you tear to shreds the holiest bonds between us.

Allmers.

[Urgently.] Think what you’re saying, Rita. It is your own child—our only child, that you are speaking of.

Rita.

The child is only half mine. [With another outburst.] But you shall be mine alone! You shall be wholly mine! That I have a right to demand of you!

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