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diff --git a/4782-h/4782-h.htm b/4782-h/4782-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..86df762 --- /dev/null +++ b/4782-h/4782-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5461 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + When We Dead Awaken, by Henrik Ibsen. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of When We Dead Awaken, by Henrik Ibsen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: When We Dead Awaken + +Author: Henrik Ibsen + +Commentator: William Archer + +Translator: William Archer + +Release Date: February 17, 2010 [EBook #4782] +Last Updated: January 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN *** + + + + +Produced by Sonia K, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Henrik Ibsen. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Introduction and translation by William Archer + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT FIRST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT SECOND. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ACT THIRD. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION. + </h2> + <p> + From <i>Pillars of Society</i> to <i>John Gabriel Borkman</i>, Ibsen's + plays had followed each other at regular intervals of two years, save when + his indignation over the abuse heaped upon <i>Ghosts</i> reduced to a + single year the interval between that play and <i>An Enemy of the People</i>. + <i>John Gabriel Borkman</i> having appeared in 1896, its successor was + expected in 1898; but Christmas came and brought no rumour of a new play. + In a man now over seventy, this breach of a long-established habit seemed + ominous. The new National Theatre in Christiania was opened in September + of the following year; and when I then met Ibsen (for the last time) he + told me that he was actually at work on a new play, which he thought of + calling a "Dramatic Epilogue." "He wrote <i>When We Dead Awaken</i>," says + Dr. Elias, "with such labour and such passionate agitation, so + spasmodically and so feverishly, that those around him were almost + alarmed. He must get on with it, he must get on! He seemed to hear the + beating of dark pinions over his head. He seemed to feel the grim + Visitant, who had accompanied Alfred Allmers on the mountain paths, + already standing behind him with uplifted hand. His relatives are firmly + convinced that he knew quite clearly that this would be his last play, + that he was to write no more. And soon the blow fell." + </p> + <p> + <i>When We Dead Awaken</i> was published very shortly before Christmas + 1899. He had still a year of comparative health before him. We find him in + March 1900, writing to Count Prozor: "I cannot say yet whether or not I + shall write another drama; but if I continue to retain the vigour of body + and mind which I at present enjoy, I do not imagine that I shall be able + to keep permanently away from the old battlefields. However, if I were to + make my appearance again, it would be with new weapons and in new armour." + Was he hinting at the desire, which he had long ago confessed to Professor + Herford, that his last work should be a drama in verse? Whatever his + dream, it was not to be realised. His last letter (defending his attitude + of philosophic impartiality with regard to the South African war) is dated + December 9, 1900. With the dawn of the new century, the curtain descended + upon the mind of the great dramatic poet of the age which had passed away. + </p> + <p> + <i>When We Dead Awaken</i> was acted during 1900 at most of the leading + theatres in Scandinavia and Germany. In some German cities (notably in + Frankfort on Main) it even attained a considerable number of + representatives. I cannot learn, however, that it has anywhere held the + stage. It was produced in London, by the State Society, at the Imperial + Theatre, on January 25 and 26, 1903. Mr. G. S. Titheradge played Rubek, + Miss Henrietta Watson Irene, Miss Mabel Hackney Maia, and Mr. Laurence + Irving Ulfheim. I find no record of any American performance. + </p> + <p> + In the above-mentioned letter to Count Prozor, Ibsen confirmed that + critic's conjecture that "the series which ends with the Epilogue really + began with <i>The Master Builder</i>." As the last confession, so to + speak, of a great artist, the Epilogue will always be read with interest. + It contains, moreover, many flashes of the old genius, many strokes of the + old incommunicable magic. One may say with perfect sincerity that there is + more fascination in the dregs of Ibsen's mind than in the "first sprightly + running" of more common-place talents. But to his sane admirers the + interest of the play must always be melancholy, because it is purely + pathological. To deny this is, in my opinion, to cast a slur over all the + poet's previous work, and in great measure to justify the criticisms of + his most violent detractors. For <i>When We Dead Awaken</i> is very like + the sort of play that haunted the "anti-Ibsenite" imagination in the year + 1893 or thereabouts. It is a piece of self-caricature, a series of echoes + from all the earlier plays, an exaggeration of manner to the pitch of + mannerism. Moreover, in his treatment of his symbolic motives, Ibsen did + exactly what he had hitherto, with perfect justice, plumed himself upon + never doing: he sacrificed the surface reality to the underlying meaning. + Take, for instance, the history of Rubek's statue and its development into + a group. In actual sculpture this development is a grotesque + impossibility. In conceiving it we are deserting the domain of reality, + and plunging into some fourth dimension where the properties of matter are + other than those we know. This is an abandonment of the fundamental + principle which Ibsen over and over again emphatically expressed—namely, + that any symbolism his work might be found to contain was entirely + incidental, and subordinate to the truth and consistency of his picture of + life. Even when he dallied with the supernatural, as in <i>The Master + Builder</i> and <i>Little Eyolf</i>, he was always careful, as I have + tried to show, not to overstep decisively the boundaries of the natural. + Here, on the other hand, without any suggestion of the supernatural, we + are confronted with the wholly impossible, the inconceivable. How remote + is this alike from his principles of art and from the consistent, + unvarying practice of his better years! So great is the chasm between <i>John + Gabriel Borkman</i> and <i>When We Dead Awaken</i> that one could almost + suppose his mental breakdown to have preceded instead of followed the + writing of the latter play. Certainly it is one of the premonitions of the + coming end. It is Ibsen's <i>Count Robert of Paris</i>. To pretend to rank + it with his masterpieces is to show a very imperfect sense of the nature + of their mastery. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div class="play"> + <h1> + WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN. + </h1> + <h3> + A DRAMATIC EPILOGUE. + </h3> + CHARACTERS. +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PROFESSOR ARNOLD RUBEK, a sculptor. + MRS. MAIA RUBEK, his wife. + THE INSPECTOR at the Baths. + ULFHEIM, a landed proprietor. + A STRANGER LADY. + A SISTER OF MERCY. + + Servants, Visitors to the Baths, and Children. +</pre> + <p> + The First Act passes at a bathing establishment on the coast; the Second + and Third Acts in the neighbourhood of a health resort, high in the + mountains. + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT FIRST. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Outside the Bath Hotel. A portion of the main building can be seen + to the right. + + An open, park-like place with a fountain, groups + of fine old trees, and shrubbery. To the left, a little pavilion + almost covered with ivy and Virginia creeper. A table and chair + outside it. At the back a view over the fjord, right out to sea, + with headlands and small islands in the distance. It is a calm, + warm and sunny summer morning. + + [PROFESSOR RUBEK and MRS. MAIA RUBEK are sitting in basket chairs + beside a covered table on the lawn outside the hotel, having just + breakfasted. They have champagne and seltzer water on the table, + and each has a newspaper. PROFESSOR RUBEK is an elderly man of + distinguished appearance, wearing a black velvet jacket, and + otherwise in light summer attire. MAIA is quite young, with + a vivacious expression and lively, mocking eyes, yet with a + suggestion of fatigue. She wears an elegant travelling dress. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Sits for some time as though waiting for the PROFESSOR to say + something, then lets her paper drop with a deep sigh.] Oh dear, dear, + dear—! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks up from his paper.] Well, Maia? What is the matter with you? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Just listen how silent it is here. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiles indulgently.] And you can hear that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + What? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + The silence? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, indeed I can. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, perhaps you are right, <i>mein Kind</i>. One can really hear the + silence. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Heaven knows you can—when it's so absolutely overpowering as it is + here— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Here at the Baths, you mean? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Wherever you go at home here, it seems to me. Of course there was noise + and bustle enough in the town. But I don't know how it is—even the + noise and bustle seemed to have something dead about it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a searching glance.] You don't seem particularly glad to be at + home again, Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks at him.] Are you glad? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Evasively.] I—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, you, who have been so much, much further away than I. Are you + entirely happy, now that you are at home again? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No—to be quite candid—perhaps not entirely happy— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With animation.] There, you see! Didn't I know it! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I have been too long abroad. I have drifted quite away from all this—this + home life. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Eagerly, drawing her chair nearer him.] There, you see, Rubek! We had + much better get away again! As quickly as ever we can. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Somewhat impatiently.] Well, well, that is what we intend to do, my + dear Maia. You know that. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But why not now—at once? Only think how cozy and comfortable we + could be down there, in our lovely new house— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiles indulgently.] We ought by rights to say: our lovely new home. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Shortly.] I prefer to say house—let us keep to that. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [His eyes dwelling on her.] You are really a strange little person. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Am I so strange? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, I think so. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But why, pray? Perhaps because I'm not desperately in love with mooning + about up here—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Which of us was it that was absolutely bent on our coming north this + summer? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I admit, it was I. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It was certainly not I, at any rate. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But good heavens, who could have dreamt that everything would have + altered so terribly at home here? And in so short a time, too! Why, it + is only just four years since I went away— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Since you were married, yes. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Married? What has that to do with the matter? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Continuing.] —since you became the Frau Professor, and found + yourself mistress of a charming home—I beg your pardon—a + very handsome house, I ought to say. And a villa on the Lake of Taunitz, + just at the point that has become most fashionable, too—. In fact + it is all very handsome and distinguished, Maia, there's no denying + that. And spacious too. We need not always be getting in each other's + way— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Lightly.] No, no, no—there's certainly no lack of house-room, and + that sort of thing— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Remember, too, that you have been living in altogether more spacious and + distinguished surroundings—in more polished society than you were + accustomed to at home. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looking at him.] Ah, so you think it is <i>I</i> that have changed? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Indeed I do, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I alone? Not the people here? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh yes, they too—a little, perhaps. And not at all in the + direction of amiability. That I readily admit. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I should think you must admit it, indeed. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Changing the subject.] Do you know how it affects me when I look at the + life of the people around us here? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No. Tell me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It makes me think of that night we spent in the train, when we were + coming up here— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Why, you were sound asleep all the time. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Not quite. I noticed how silent it became at all the little roadside + stations. I heard the silence—like you, Maia— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + H'm,—like me, yes. + </p> + <p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. —and that assured me that we had crossed the + frontier—that we were really at home. For the train stopped at all + the little stations—although there was nothing doing at all. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Then why did it stop—though there was nothing to be done? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Can't say. No one got out or in; but all the same the train stopped a + long, endless time. And at every station I could make out that there + were two railway men walking up and down the platform—one with a + lantern in his hand—and they said things to each other in the + night, low, and toneless, and meaningless. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, that is quite true. There are always two men walking up and down, + and talking— + </p> + <p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. —of nothing. [Changing to a livelier tone.] But + just wait till to-morrow. Then we shall have the great luxurious steamer + lying in the harbour. We'll go on board her, and sail all round the + coast—northward ho!—right to the polar sea. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, but then you will see nothing of the country—and of the + people. And that was what you particularly wanted. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shortly and snappishly.] I have seen more than enough. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Do you think a sea voyage will be better for you? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It is always a change. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well, well, if only it is the right thing for you— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + For me? The right thing? There is nothing in the world the matter with + me. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Rises and goes to him.] Yes, there is, Rubek. I am sure you must feel + it yourself. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why my dearest Maia—what should be amiss with me? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Behind him, bending over the back of his chair.] That you must tell me. + You have begun to wander about without a moment's peace. You cannot rest + anywhere—neither at home nor abroad. You have become quite + misanthropic of late. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a touch of sarcasm.] Dear me—have you noticed that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No one that knows you can help noticing it. And then it seems to me so + sad that you have lost all pleasure in your work. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + That too, eh? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You that used to be so indefatigable—working from morning to + night! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Gloomily.] Used to be, yes— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But ever since you got your great masterpiece out of hand— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods thoughtfully.] "The Resurrection Day"— + </p> + <p> + MAIA. —the masterpiece that has gone round the whole world, and + made you so famous— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Perhaps that is just the misfortune, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + How so? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + When I had finished this masterpiece of mine—[Makes a passionate + movement with his hand]—for "The Resurrection Day" is a + masterpiece! Or was one in the beginning. No, it is one still. It must, + must, must be a masterpiece! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks at him in astonishment.] Why, Rubek—all the world knows + that. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Short, repellently.] All the world knows nothing! Understands nothing! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well, at any rate it can divine something— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Something that isn't there at all, yes. Something that never was in my + mind. Ah yes, that they can all go into ecstasies over! [Growling to + himself.] What is the good of working oneself to death for the mob and + the masses—for "all the world"! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Do you think it is better, then—do you think it is worthy of you, + to do nothing at all but portrait-bust now and then? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a sly smile.] They are not exactly portrait-busts that I turn out, + Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, indeed they are—for the last two or three years—ever + since you finished your great group and got it out of the house— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + All the same, they are no mere portrait-busts, I assure you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + What are they, then? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + There is something equivocal, something cryptic, lurking in and behind + these busts—a secret something, that the people themselves cannot + see— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Indeed? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Decisively.] I alone can see it. And it amuses me unspeakably.—On + the surface I give them the "striking likeness," as they call it, that + they all stand and gape at in astonishment—[Lowers his voice]—but + at bottom they are all respectable, pompous horse-faces, and + self-opinionated donkey-muzzles, and lop-eared, low-browed dog-skulls, + and fatted swine-snouts—and sometimes dull, brutal bull-fronts as + well— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Indifferently.] All the dear domestic animals, in fact. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Simply the dear domestic animals, Maia. All the animals which men have + bedevilled in their own image—and which have bedevilled men in + return. [Empties his champagne-glass and laughs.] And it is these + double-faced works of art that our excellent plutocrats come and order + of me. And pay for in all good faith—and in good round figures too—almost + their weight in gold, as the saying goes. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Fills his glass.] Come, Rubek! Drink and be happy. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Passes his hand several times across his forehead and leans back in his + chair.] I am happy, Maia. Really happy—in a way. [Short silence.] + For after all there is a certain happiness in feeling oneself free and + independent on every hand—in having at ones command everything one + can possibly wish for—all outward things, that is to say. Do you + not agree with me, Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh yes, I agree. All that is well enough in its way. [Looking at him.] + But do you remember what you promised me the day we came to an + understanding on—on that troublesome point— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods.] —on the subject of our marriage, yes. It was no easy + matter for you, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Continuing unruffled.] —and agreed that I was to go abroad with + you, and live there for good and all—and enjoy myself.—Do + you remember what you promised me that day? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shaking his head.] No, I can't say that I do. Well, what did I promise? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You said you would take me up to a high mountain and show me all the + glory of the world. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a slight start.] Did I promise you that, too? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Me too? Who else, pray? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Indifferently.] No, no, I only meant did I promise to show you—? + </p> + <p> + MAIA. —all the glory of the world? Yes, you did. And all that + glory should be mine, you said. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + That is sort of figure of speech that I was in the habit of using once + upon a time. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Only a figure of speech? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, a schoolboy phrase—the sort of thing I used to say when I + wanted to lure the neighbours' children out to play with me, in the + woods and on the mountains. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looking hard at him.] Perhaps you only wanted to lure me out to play, + as well? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Passing it off as a jest.] Well, has it not been a tolerable amusing + game, Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Coldly.] I did not go with you only to play. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No, no, I daresay not. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + And you never took me up with you to any high mountain, or showed me— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With irritation.] —all the glory of the world? No, I did not. + For, let me tell you something: you are not really born to be a + mountain-climber, little Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Trying to control herself.] Yet at one time you seemed to think I was. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Four or five years ago, yes. [Stretching himself in his chair.] Four or + five years—it's a long, long time, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looking at him with a bitter expression.] Has the time seemed so very + long to you, Rubek? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I am beginning now to find it a trifle long. [Yawning.] Now and then, + you know. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Returning to her place.] I shall not bore you any longer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She resumes her seat, takes up the newspaper, and begins turning + over the leaves. Silence on both sides. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Leaning on his elbows across the table, and looking at her teasingly.] + Is the Frau Professor offended? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Coldly, without looking up.] No, not at all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Visitors to the baths, most of them ladies, begin to pass, + singly and in groups, through the park from the right, and + out to the left. + + [Waiters bring refreshments from the hotel, and go off behind + the pavilion. + + [The INSPECTOR, wearing gloves and carrying a stick, comes from + his rounds in the park, meets visitors, bows politely, and + exchanges a few words with some of them. +</pre> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Advancing to PROFESSOR RUBEK's table and politely taking off his hat.] + I have the honour to wish you good morning, Mrs. Rubek.—Good + morning, Professor Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Good morning, good morning Inspector. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Addressing himself to MRS. RUBEK.] May I venture to ask if you have + slept well? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, thank you; excellently—for my part. I always sleep like a + stone. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + I am delighted to hear it. The first night in a strange place is often + rather trying.—And the Professor—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, my night's rest is never much to boast of—especially of late. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [With a show of sympathy.] Oh—that is a pity. But after a few + weeks' stay at the Baths—you will quite get over that. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looking up at him.] Tell me, Inspector—are any of your patients + in the habit of taking baths during the night? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Astonished.] During the night? No, I have never heard of such a thing. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Have you not? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + No, I don't know of any one so ill as to require such treatment. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, at any rate there is some one who is in the habit of walking about + the park by night? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Smiling and shaking his head.] No, Professor—that would be + against the rules. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Impatiently.] Good Heavens, Rubek, I told you so this morning—you + must have dreamt it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Drily.] Indeed? Must I? Thank you! [Turning to the INSPECTOR.] The fact + is, I got up last night—I couldn't sleep—and I wanted to see + what sort of night it was— + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Attentively.] To be sure—and then—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I looked out at the window—and caught sight of a white figure in + there among the trees. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Smiling to the INSPECTOR.] And the Professor declares that the figure + was dressed in a bathing costume— + </p> + <p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. —or something like it, I said. Couldn't + distinguish very clearly. But I am sure it was something white. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Most remarkable. Was it a gentleman or a lady? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I could almost have sworn it was a lady. But then after it came another + figure. And that one was quite dark—like a shadow—. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Starting.] A dark one? Quite black, perhaps? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, I should almost have said so. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [A light breaking in upon him.] And behind the white figure? Following + close upon her—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes—at a little distance— + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Aha! Then I think I can explain the mystery, Professor. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, what was it then? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Simultaneously.] Was the professor really not dreaming? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Suddenly whispering, as he directs their attention towards the + background on the right.] Hush, if you please! Look there—don't + speak loud for a moment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [A slender lady, dressed in fine, cream-white cashmere, and + followed by a SISTER OF MERCY in black, with a silver cross + hanging by a chain on her breast, comes forward from behind + the hotel and crosses the park towards the pavilion in front + on the left. Her face is pale, and its lines seem to have + stiffened; the eyelids are drooped and the eyes appear as + though they saw nothing. Her dress comes down to her feet + and clings to the body in perpendicular folds. Over her head, + neck, breast, shoulders and arms she wears a large shawl of + white crape. She keeps her arms crossed upon her breast. + She carries her body immovably, and her steps are stiff and + measured. The SISTER's bearing is also measured, and she has + the air of a servant. She keeps her brown piercing eyes + incessantly fixed upon the lady. WAITERS, with napkins on + their arms, come forward in the hotel doorway, and cast + curious glances at the strangers, who take no notice of + anything, and, without looking round, enter the pavilion. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Has risen slowly and involuntarily, and stands staring at the closed + door of the pavilion.] Who was that lady? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + She is a stranger who has rented the little pavilion there. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + A foreigner? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Presumably. At any rate they both came from abroad—about a week + ago. They have never been here before. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Decidedly; looking at him.] It was she I saw in the park last night. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + No doubt it must have been. I thought so from the first. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What is this lady's name, Inspector? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + She has registered herself as "Madame de Satow, with companion." We know + nothing more. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Reflecting.] Satow? Satow—? + </p> + <p> + MAIA. [Laughing mockingly.] Do you know any one of that name, Rubek? Eh? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shaking his head.] No, no one.—Satow? It sounds Russian—or + in all events Slavonic. [To the INSPECTOR.] What language does she + speak? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + When the two ladies talk to each other, it is in a language I cannot + make out at all. But at other times she speaks Norwegian like a native. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Exclaims with a start.] Norwegian? You are sure you are not mistaken? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + No, how could I be mistaken in that? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks at him with eager interest.] You have heard her yourself? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Yes. I myself have spoken to her—several times.—Only a few + words, however; she is far from communicative. But— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But Norwegian it was? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Thoroughly good Norwegian—perhaps with a little north-country + accent. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Gazing straight before him in amazement, whispers.] That too? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [A little hurt and jarred.] Perhaps this lady has been one of your + models, Rubek? Search your memory. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks cuttingly at her.] My models? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With a provoking smile.] In your younger days, I mean. You are said to + have had innumerable models—long ago, of course. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [In the same tone.] Oh no, little Frau Maia. I have in reality had only + one single model. One and only one—for everything I have done. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Who has turned away and stands looking out to the left.] If you'll + excuse me, I think I will take my leave. I see some one coming whom it + is not particularly agreeable to meet. Especially in the presence of + ladies. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looking in the same direction.] That sportsman there? Who is it? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + It is a certain Mr. Ulfheim, from— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, Mr. Ulfheim— + </p> + <p> + THE INSPECTOR. —the bear-killer, as they call him— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I know him. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Who does not know him? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Very slightly, however. Is he on your list of patients—at last? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + No, strangely enough—not as yet. He comes here only once a year—on + his way up to his hunting-grounds.—Excuse me for the moment— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Makes a movement to go into the hotel. +</pre> + <p> + ULFHEIM's VOICE. + </p> + <p> + [Heard outside.] Stop a moment, man! Devil take it all, can't you stop? + Why do you always scuttle away from me? + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Stops.] I am not scuttling at all, Mr. Ulfheim. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [ULFHEIM enters from the left followed by a servant with a + couple of sporting dogs in leash. ULFHEIM is in shooting + costume, with high boots and a felt hat with a feather in + it. He is a long, lank, sinewy personage, with matted hair + and beard, and a loud voice. His appearance gives no precise + clue to his age, but he is no longer young.] +</pre> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Pounces upon the INSPECTOR.] Is this a way to receive strangers, hey? + You scamper away with your tail between your legs—as if you had + the devil at your heels. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Calmly, without answering him.] Has Mr. Ulfheim arrived by the steamer? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Growls.] Haven't had the honour of seeing any steamer. [With his arms + akimbo.] Don't you know that I sail my own cutter? [To the SERVANT.] + Look well after your fellow-creatures, Lars. But take care you keep them + ravenous, all the same. Fresh meat-bones—but not too much meat on + them, do you hear? And be sure it's reeking raw, and bloody. And get + something in your own belly while you're about it. [Aiming a kick at + him.] Now then, go to hell with you! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The SERVANT goes out with the dogs, behind the corner of the + hotel.] +</pre> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Would not Mr. Ulfheim like to go into the dining-room in the meantime? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + In among all the half-dead flies and people? No, thank you a thousand + times, Mr. Inspector. + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + Well, well, as you please. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + But get the housekeeper to prepare a hamper for me as usual. There must + be plenty of provender in it—and lots of brandy—! You can + tell her that I or Lars will come and play Old Harry with her if she + doesn't— + </p> + THE INSPECTOR. + <p> + [Interrupting.] We know your ways of old. [Turning.] Can I give the + waiter any orders, Professor? Can I send Mrs. Rubek anything? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No thank you; nothing for me. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Nor for me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The INSPECTOR goes into the hotel. +</pre> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Stares at them for a moment; then lifts his hat.] Why, blast me if here + isn't a country tyke that has strayed into regular tip-top society. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looking up.] What do you mean by that, Mr. Ulfheim? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [More quietly and politely.] I believe I have the honour of addressing + no less a person than the great Sculptor Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods.] I remember meeting you once or twice—the autumn when I was + last at home. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + That's many years ago, now. And then you weren't so illustrious as I + hear you've since become. At that time even a dirty bear-hunter might + venture to come near you. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiling.] I don't bite even now. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks with interest at ULFHEIM.] Are you really and truly a + bear-hunter? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Seating himself at the next table, nearer the hotel.] A bear-hunter + when I have the chance, madam. But I make the best of any sort of game + that comes in my way—eagles, and wolves, and women, and elks, and + reindeer—if only it's fresh and juicy and has plenty of blood in + it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Drinks from his pocket-flask. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Regarding him fixedly.] But you like bear-hunting best? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I like it best, yes. For then one can have the knife handy at a pinch. + [With a slight smile.] We both work in a hard material, madam—both + your husband and I. He struggles with his marble blocks, I daresay; and + I struggle with tense and quivering bear-sinews. And we both of us win + the fight in the end—subdue and master our material. We never rest + till we've got the upper hand of it, though it fight never so hard. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Deep in thought.] There's a great deal of truth in what you say. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Yes, for I take it the stone has something to fight for too. It is dead, + and determined by no manner of means to let itself be hammered into + life. Just like the bear when you come and prod him up in his lair. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Are you going up into the forests now to hunt? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I am going right up into the high mountain.—I suppose you have + never been in the high mountain, madam? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No, never. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Confound it all then, you must be sure and come up there this very + summer! I'll take you with me—both you and the Professor, with + pleasure. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Thanks. But Rubek is thinking of taking a sea trip this summer. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Round the coast—through the island channels. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Ugh—what the devil would you do in those damnable sickly gutters—floundering + about in the brackish ditchwater? Dishwater I should rather call it. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + There, you hear, Rubek! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + No, much better come up with me to the mountain—away, clean away, + from the trail and taint of men. You cant' think what that means for me. + But such a little lady— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He stops. + + [The SISTER OF MERCY comes out of the pavilion and goes into + the hotel. +</pre> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Following her with his eyes.] Just look at her, do! That night-crow + there!—Who is it that's to be buried? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I have not heard of any one— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Well, there's some one on the point of giving up the ghost, then—in + on corner or another.—People that are sickly and rickety should + have the goodness to see about getting themselves buried—the + sooner the better. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Have you ever been ill yourself, Mr. Ulfheim. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Never. If I had, I shouldn't be here.—But my nearest friends—they + have been ill, poor things. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + And what did you do for your nearest friends? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Shot them, of course. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looking at him.] Shot them? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Moving her chair back.] Shot them dead? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Nods.] I never miss, madam. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But how can you possibly shoot people! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I am not speaking of people— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You said your nearest friends— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Well, who should they be but my dogs? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Are your dogs your nearest friends? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I have none nearer. My honest, trusty, absolutely loyal comrades—. + When one of them turns sick and miserable—bang!—and there's + my friend sent packing—to the other world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The SISTER OF MERCY comes out of the hotel with a tray on which + is bread and milk. She places it on the table outside the + pavilion, which she enters. +</pre> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Laughs scornfully.] That stuff there—is that what you call food + for human beings! Milk and water and soft, clammy bread. Ah, you should + see my comrades feeding. Should you like to see it? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Smiling across to the PROFESSOR and rising.] Yes, very much. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Also rising.] Spoken like a woman of spirit, madam! Come with me, then! + They swallow whole great thumping meat-bones—gulp them up and then + gulp them down again. Oh, it's a regular treat to see them. Come along + and I'll show you—and while we're about it, we can talk over this + trip to the mountains— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He goes out by the corner of the hotel, MAIA following him. + + [Almost at the same moment the STRANGE LADY comes out of the + pavilion and seats herself at the table. + + [The LADY raises her glass of milk and is about to drink, but + stops and looks across at RUBEK with vacant, expressionless + eyes. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Remains sitting at his table and gazes fixedly and earnestly at her. At + last he rises, goes some steps towards her, stops, and says in a low + voice.] I know you quite well, Irene. + </p> + THE LADY. + <p> + [In a toneless voice, setting down her glass.] You can guess who I am, + Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Without answering.] And you recognise me, too, I see. + </p> + THE LADY. + <p> + With you it is quite another matter. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + With me?—How so? + </p> + THE LADY. + <p> + Oh, you are still alive. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Not understanding.] Alive—? + </p> + THE LADY. + <p> + [After a short pause.] Who was the other? The woman you had with you—there + at the table? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [A little reluctantly.] She? That was my—my wife. + </p> + THE LADY. + <p> + [Nods slowly.] Indeed. That is well, Arnold. Some one, then, who does + not concern me— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods.] No, of course not— + </p> + <p> + THE LADY. —one whom you have taken to you after my lifetime. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Suddenly looking hard at her.] After your—? What do you mean by + that, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Without answering.] And the child? I hear the child is prospering too. + Our child survives me—and has come to honour and glory. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiles as at a far-off recollection.] Our child? Yes, we called it so—then. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + In my lifetime, yes. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Trying to take a lighter tone.] Yes, Irene.—I can assure you "our + child" has become famous all the wide world over. I suppose you have + read about it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Nods.] And has made its father famous too.—That was your dream. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [More softly, with emotion.] It is to you I owe everything, everything, + Irene—and I thank you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Lost in thought for a moment.] If I had then done what I had a right to + do, Arnold— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well? What then? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I should have killed that child. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Killed it, you say? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Whispering.] Killed it—before I went away from you. Crushed it—crushed + it to dust. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shakes his head reproachfully.] You would never have been able to, + Irene. You had not the heart to do it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + No, in those days I had not that sort of heart. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But since then? Afterwards? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Since then I have killed it innumerable times. By daylight and in the + dark. Killed it in hatred—and in revenge—and in anguish. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Goes close up to the table and asks softly.] Irene—tell me now at + last—after all these years—why did you go away from me? You + disappeared so utterly—left not a trace behind— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Shaking her head slowly.] Oh Arnold—why should I tell you that + now—from the world beyond the grave. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Was there some one else whom you had come to love? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + There was one who had no longer any use for my love—any use for my + life. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Changing the subject.] H'm—don't let us talk any more of the past— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + No, no—by all means let us not talk of what is beyond the grave—what + is now beyond the grave for me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Where have you been, Irene? All my inquiries were fruitless—you + seemed to have vanished away. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I went into the darkness—when the child stood transfigured in the + light. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Have you travelled much about the world? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes. Travelled in many lands. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks compassionately at her.] And what have you found to do, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Turning her eyes upon him.] Wait a moment; let me see—. Yes, now + I have it. I have posed on the turntable in variety-shows. Posed as a + naked statue in living pictures. Raked in heaps of money. That was more + than I could do with you; for you had none.—And then I turned the + heads of all sorts of men. That too, was more than I could do with you, + Arnold. You kept yourself better in hand. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Hastening to pass the subject by.] And then you have married, too? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes; I married one of them. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Who is your husband? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + He was a South American. A distinguished diplomatist. [Looks straight in + front of her with a stony smile.] Him I managed to drive quite out of + his mind; mad—incurably mad; inexorably mad.—It was great + sport, I can tell you—while it was in the doing. I could have + laughed within me all the time—if I had anything within me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And where is he now? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Oh, in a churchyard somewhere or other. With a fine handsome monument + over him. And with a bullet rattling in his skull. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Did he kill himself? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, he was good enough to take that off my hands. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Do you not lament his loss, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Not understanding.] Lament? What loss? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why, the loss of Herr von Satow, of course. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + His name was not Satow. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Was it not? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + My second husband is called Satow. He is a Russian— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And where is he? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Far away in the Ural Mountains. Among all his gold-mines. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + So he lives there? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Shrugs her shoulders.] Lives? Lives? In reality I have killed him— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Start.] Killed—! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Killed him with a fine sharp dagger which I always have with me in bed— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Vehemently.] I don't believe you, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a gentle smile.] Indeed you may believe it, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks compassionately at her.] Have you never had a child? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, I have had many children. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And where are your children now? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I killed them. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Severely.] Now you are telling me lies again! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I have killed them, I tell you—murdered them pitilessly. As soon + as ever they came into the world. Oh, long, long before. One after the + other. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Sadly and earnestly.] There is something hidden behind everything you + say. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + How can I help that? Every word I say is whispered into my ear. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I believe I am the only one that can divine your meaning. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Surely you ought to be the only one. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Rests his hands on the table and looks intently at her.] Some of the + strings of your nature have broken. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Gently.] Does not that always happen when a young warm-blooded woman + dies? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh Irene, have done with these wild imaginings—! You are living! + Living—living! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Rises slowly from her chair and says, quivering.] I was dead for many + years. They came and bound me—laced my arms together behind my + back—. Then they lowered me into a grave-vault, with iron bars + before the loop-hole. And with padded walls—so that no one on the + earth above could hear the grave-shrieks—. But now I am beginning, + in a way, to rise from the dead. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She seats herself again.] +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [After a pause.] In all this, do you hold me guilty? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Guilty of that—your death, as you call it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Guilty of the fact that I had to die. [Changing her tone to one of + indifference.] Why don't you sit down, Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + May I? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes.—You need not be afraid of being frozen. I don't think I am + quite turned to ice yet. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Moves a chair and seats himself at her table.] There, Irene. Now we two + are sitting together as in the old days. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + A little way apart from each other—also as in the old days. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Moving nearer.] It had to be so, then. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Had it? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Decisively.] There had to be a distance between us— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Was it absolutely necessary, Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Continuing.] Do you remember what you answered when I asked if you + would go with me out into the wide world? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I held up three fingers in the air and swore that I would go with you to + the world's end and to the end of life. And that I would serve you in + all things— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + As the model for my art— + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —in frank, utter nakedness— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With emotion.] And you did serve me, Irene—so bravely—so + gladly and ungrudgingly. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, with all the pulsing blood of my youth, I served you! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nodding, with a look of gratitude.] That you have every right to say. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I fell down at your feet and served you, Arnold! [Holding her clenched + hand towards him.] But you, you,—you—! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Defensively.] I never did you any wrong! Never, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, you did! You did wrong to my innermost, inborn nature— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Starting back.] I—! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, you! I exposed myself wholly and unreservedly to your gaze—[More + softly.] And never once did you touch me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Irene, did you not understand that many a time I was almost beside + myself under the spell of all your loveliness? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Continuing undisturbed.] And yet—if you had touched me, I think I + should have killed you on the spot. For I had a sharp needle always upon + me—hidden in my hair— [Strokes her forehead meditatively.] + But after all—after all—that you could— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks impressively at her.] I was an artist, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Darkly.] That is just it. That is just it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + An artist first of all. And I was sick with the desire to achieve the + great work of my life. [Losing himself in recollection.] It was to be + called "The Resurrection Day"—figured in the likeness of a young + woman, awakening from the sleep of death— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Our child, yes— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Continuing.] It was to be the awakening of the noblest, purest, most + ideal woman the world ever saw. Then I found you. You were what I + required in every respect. And you consented so willingly—so + gladly. You renounced home and kindred—and went with me. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + To go with you meant for me the resurrection of my childhood. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + That was just why I found in you all that I required—in you and in + no one else. I came to look on you as a thing hallowed, not to be + touched save in adoring thoughts. In those days I was still young, + Irene. And the superstition took hold of me that if I touched you, if I + desired you with my senses, my soul would be profaned, so that I should + be unable to accomplish what I was striving for.—And I still think + there was some truth in that. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Nods with a touch of scorn.] The work of art first—then the human + being. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You must judge me as you will; but at that time I was utterly dominated + by my great task—and exultantly happy in it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And you achieved your great task, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Thanks and praise be to you, I achieved my great task. I wanted to + embody the pure woman as I saw her awakening on the Resurrection Day. + Not marvelling at anything new and unknown and undivined; but filled + with a sacred joy at finding herself unchanged—she, the woman of + earth—in the higher, freer, happier region—after the long, + dreamless sleep of death. [More softly.] Thus did I fashion her.—I + fashioned her in your image, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Laying her hands flat upon the table and leaning against the back of + her chair.] And then you were done with me— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Reproachfully.] Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + You had no longer any use for me— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + How can you say that! + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —and began to look about you for other ideals— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I found none, none after you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And no other models, Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You were no model to me. You were the fountainhead of my achievement. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Is silent for a short time.] What poems have you made since? In marble + I mean. Since the day I left you. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I have made no poems since that day—only frittered away my life in + modelling. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And that woman, whom you are now living with—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Interrupting vehemently.] Do not speak of her now! It makes me tingle + with shame. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Where are you thinking of going with her? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Slack and weary.] Oh, on a tedious coasting-voyage to the North, I + suppose. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looks at him, smiles almost imperceptibly, and whispers.] You should + rather go high up into the mountains. As high as ever you can. Higher, + higher,—always higher, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With eager expectation.] Are you going up there? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Have you the courage to meet me once again? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Struggling with himself, uncertainly.] If we could—oh, if only we + could—! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Why can we not do what we will? [Looks at him and whispers beseechingly + with folded hands.] Come, come, Arnold! Oh, come up to me—! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [MAIA enters, glowing with pleasure, from behind the hotel, + and goes quickly up to the table where they were previously + sitting.] +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Still at the corner of the hotel, without looking around.] Oh, you may + say what you please, Rubek, but—[Stops, as she catches sight of + IRENE]—Oh, I beg your pardon—I see you have made an + acquaintance. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Curtly.] Renewed an acquaintance. [Rises.] What was it you wanted with + me? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I only wanted to say this: you may do whatever you please, but <i>I</i> + am not going with you on that disgusting steamboat. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why not? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Because I want to go up on the mountains and into the forests—that's + what I want. [Coaxingly.] Oh, you must let me do it, Rubek.—I + shall be so good, so good afterwards! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Who is it that has put these ideas into your head? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Why he—that horrid bear-killer. Oh you cannot conceive all the + marvelous things he has to tell about the mountains. And about life up + there! They're ugly, horrid, repulsive, most of the yarns he spins—for + I almost believe he's lying—but wonderfully alluring all the same. + Oh, won't you let me go with him? Only to see if what he says is true, + you understand. May I, Rubek? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, I have not the slightest objection. Off you go to the mountains—as + far and as long as you please. I shall perhaps be going the same way + myself. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Quickly.] No, no, no, you needn't do that! Not on my account! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I want to go to the mountains. I have made up my mind to go. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh thanks, thanks! May I tell the bear-killer at once? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Tell the bear-killer whatever you please. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh thanks, thanks, thanks! [Is about to take his hand; he repels the + movement.] Oh, how dear and good you are to-day, Rubek! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She runs into the hotel. + + [At the same time the door of the pavilion is softly and + noiselessly set ajar. The SISTER OF MERCY stands in the + opening, intently on the watch. No one sees her. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Decidedly, turning to IRENE.] Shall we meet up there then? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Rising slowly.] Yes, we shall certainly meet.—I have sought for + you so long. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + When did you begin to seek for me, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a touch of jesting bitterness.] From the moment I realised that I + had given away to you something rather indispensable, Arnold. Something + one ought never to part with. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Bowing his head.] Yes, that is bitterly true. You gave me three or four + years of your youth. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + More, more than that I gave you—spend-thrift as I then was. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, you were prodigal, Irene. You gave me all your naked loveliness— + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —to gaze upon— + </p> + <p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. —and to glorify— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, for your own glorification.—And the child's. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And yours too, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + But you have forgotten the most precious gift. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + The most precious—? What gift was that? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I gave you my young, living soul. And that gift left me empty within—soulless. + [Looking at him with a fixed stare.] It was that I died of, Arnold. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The SISTER OF MERCY opens the door wide and makes room for her. + She goes into the pavilion. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Stands and looks after her; then whispers.] Irene! + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT SECOND. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Near a mountain resort. The landscape stretches, in the form of + an immense treeless upland, towards a long mountain lake. Beyond + the lake rises a range of peaks with blue-white snow in the clefts. + In the foreground on the left a purling brook falls in severed + streamlets down a steep wall of rock, and thence flows smoothly + over the upland until it disappears to the right. Dwarf trees, + plants, and stones along the course of the brook. In the + foreground on the right a hillock, with a stone bench on the + top of it. It is a summer afternoon, towards sunset. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[At some distance over the upland, on the other side of the brook, + a troop of children is singing, dancing, and playing. Some are + dressed in peasant costume, others in town-made clothes. Their + happy laughter is heard, softened by distance, during the + following. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[PROFESSOR RUBEK is sitting on the bench, with a plaid over his + shoulders, and looking down at the children's play. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Presently, MAIA comes forward from among some bushes on the upland + to the left, well back, and scans the prospect with her hand + shading her eyes. She wears a flat tourist cap, a short skirt, + kilted up, reaching only midway between ankle and knee, and high, + stout lace-boots. She has in her hand a long alpenstock. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [At last catches sight of RUBEK and calls.] Hallo! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She advances over the upland, jumps over the brook, with the + aid of her alpenstock, and climbs up the hillock. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Panting.] Oh, how I have been rushing around looking for you, Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods indifferently and asks.] Have you just come from the hotel? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, that was the last place I tried—that fly-trap. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looking at her for moment.] I noticed that you were not at the + dinner-table. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No, we had our dinner in the open air, we two. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + "We two"? What two? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Why, I and that horrid bear-killer, of course. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, he. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes. And first thing to-morrow morning we are going off again. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + After bears? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes. Off to kill a brown-boy. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Have you found the tracks of any? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With superiority.] You don't suppose that bears are to be found in the + naked mountains, do you? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Where, then? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Far beneath. On the lower slopes; in the thickest parts of the forest. + Places your ordinary town-folk could never get through— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And you two are going down there to-morrow? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Throwing herself down among the heather.] Yes, so we have arranged.—Or + perhaps we may start this evening.—If you have no objection, + that's to say? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I? Far be it from me to— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Quickly.] Of course Lars goes with us—with the dogs. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I feel no curiosity as to the movements of Mr. Lars and his dogs. + [Changing the subject.] Would you not rather sit properly on the seat? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Drowsily.] No, thank you. I'm lying so delightfully in the soft + heather. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I can see that you are tired. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Yawning.] I almost think I'm beginning to feel tired. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You don't notice it till afterwards—when the excitement is over— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [In a drowsy tone.] Just so. I will lie and close my eyes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [A short pause. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [With sudden impatience.] Ugh, Rubek—how can you endure to sit + there listening to these children's screams! And to watch all the capers + they are cutting, too! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + There is something harmonious—almost like music—in their + movements, now and then; amid all the clumsiness. And it amuses me to + sit and watch for these isolated moments—when they come. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With a somewhat scornful laugh.] Yes, you are always, always an artist. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And I propose to remain one. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Lying on her side, so that her back is turned to him.] There's not a + bit of the artist about him. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With attention.] Who is it that's not an artist? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Again in a sleepy tone.] Why, he—the other one, of course. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + The bear-hunter, you mean? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes. There's not a bit of the artist about him—not the least + little bit. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiling.] No, I believe there's no doubt about that. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Vehemently, without moving.] And so ugly as he is! [Plucks up a tuft of + heather and throws it away.] So ugly, so ugly! Isch! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Is that why you are so ready to set off with him—out into the + wilds? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Curtly.] I don't know. [Turning towards him.] You are ugly, too, Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Have you only just discovered it? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No, I have seen it for long. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shrugging his shoulders.] One doesn't grow younger. One doesn't grow + younger, Frau Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + It's not that sort of ugliness that I mean at all. But there has come to + be such an expression of fatigue, of utter weariness, in your eyes—when + you deign, once in a while, to cast a glance at me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Have you noticed that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Nods.] Little by little this evil look has come into your eyes. It + seems almost as though you were nursing some dark plot against me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Indeed? [In a friendly but earnest tone.] Come here and sit beside me, + Maia; and let us talk a little. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Half rising.] Then will you let me sit upon your knee? As I used to in + the early days? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No, you mustn't—people can see us from the hotel. [Moves a + little.] But you can sit here on the bench—at my side. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No, thank you; in that case I'd rather lie here, where I am. I can hear + you quite well here. [Looks inquiringly at him.] Well, what is it you + want to say to me? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Begins slowly.] What do you think was my real reason for agreeing to + make this tour? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well—I remember you declared, among other things, that it was + going to do me such a tremendous lot of good. But—but— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But now I don't believe the least little bit that that was the reason— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Then what is your theory about it now? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I think now that it was on account of that pale lady. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Madame von Satow—! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, she who is always hanging at our heels. Yesterday evening she made + her appearance up here too. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But what in all the world—! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh, I know you knew her very well indeed—long before you knew me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And had forgotten her, too—long before I knew you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Sitting upright.] Can you forget so easily, Rubek? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Curtly.] Yes, very easily indeed. [Adds harshly.] When I want to + forget. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Even a woman who has been a model to you? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + When I have no more use for her— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + One who has stood to you undressed? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + That means nothing—nothing for us artists. [With a change of + tone.] And then—may I venture to ask—how was I to guess that + she was in this country? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh, you might have seen her name in a Visitor's List—in one of the + newspapers. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But I had no idea of the name she now goes by. I had never heard of any + Herr von Satow. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Affecting weariness.] Oh well then, I suppose it must have been for + some other reason that you were so set upon this journey. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Seriously.] Yes, Maia—it was for another reason. A quite + different reason. And that is what we must sooner or later have a clear + explanation about. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [In a fit of suppressed laughter.] Heavens, how solemn you look! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Suspiciously scrutinising her.] Yes, perhaps a little more solemn than + necessary. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + How so—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And that is a very good thing for us both. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You begin to make me feel curious, Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Only curious? Not a little bit uneasy. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Shaking her head.] Not in the least. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Good. Then listen.—You said that day down at the Baths that it + seemed to you I had become very nervous of late— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, and you really have. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And what do you think can be the reason of that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + How can I tell—? [Quickly.] Perhaps you have grown weary of this + constant companionship with me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Constant—? Why not say "everlasting"? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Daily companionship, then. Here have we two solitary people lived down + there for four or five mortal years, and scarcely have an hour away from + each other.—We two all by ourselves. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With interest.] Well? And then—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [A little oppressed.] You are not a particularly sociable man, Rubek. + You like to keep to yourself and think your own thoughts. And of course + I can't talk properly to you about your affairs. I know nothing about + art and that sort of thing— [With an impatient gesture.] And care + very little either, for that matter! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, well; and that's why we generally sit by the fireside, and chat + about your affairs. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh, good gracious—I have no affairs to chat about. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, they are trifles, perhaps; but at any rate the time passes for us + in that way as well as another, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, you are right. Time passes. It is passing away from you, Rubek.—And + I suppose it is really that that makes you so uneasy— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods vehemently.] And so restless! [Writhing in his seat.] No, I shall + soon not be able to endure this pitiful life any longer. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Rises and stands for a moment looking at him.] If you want to get rid + of me, you have only to say so. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why will you use such phrases? Get rid of you? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, if you want to have done with me, please say so right out. And I + will go that instant. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With an almost imperceptible smile.] Do you intend that as a threat, + Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + There can be no threat for you in what I said. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Rising.] No, I confess you are right there. [Adds after a pause.] You + and I cannot possibly go on living together like this— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well? And then—? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + There is no "then" about it. [With emphasis on his words.] Because we + two cannot go on living together alone—it does not necessarily + follow that we must part. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Smiles scornfully.] Only draw away from each other a little, you mean? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shakes his head.] Even that is not necessary. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well then? Come out with what you want to do with me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With some hesitation.] What I now feel so keenly—and so painfully—that + I require, is to have some one about me who really and truly stands + close to me— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Interrupts him anxiously.] Don't I do that, Rubek? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Waving her aside.] Not in that sense. What I need is the companionship + of another person who can, as it were, complete me—supply what is + wanting in me—be one with me in all my striving. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Slowly.] It's true that things like that are a great deal too hard for + me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh no, they are not at all in your line, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With an outburst.] And heaven knows I don't want them to be, either! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I know that very well.—And it was with no idea of finding any such + help in my life-work that I married you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Observing him closely.] I can see in your face that you are thinking of + some one else. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Indeed? I have never noticed before that you were a thought-reader. But + you can see that, can you? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, I can. Oh, I know you so well, so well, Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Then perhaps you can also see who it is I am thinking of? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, indeed I can. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well? Have the goodness to—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You are thinking of that—that model you once used for— + [Suddenly letting slip the train of thought.] Do you know, the people + down at the hotel think she's mad. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Indeed? And pray what do the people down at the hotel think of you and + the bear-killer? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + That has nothing to do with the matter. [Continuing the former train of + thought.] But it was this pale lady you were thinking of. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Calmly.] Precisely, of her.—When I had no more use for her—and + when, besides, she went away from me—vanished without a word— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Then you accepted me as a sort of makeshift, I suppose? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [More unfeelingly.] Something of the sort, to tell the truth, little + Maia. For a year or a year and a half I had lived there lonely and + brooding, and had put the last touch—the very last touch, to my + work. "The Resurrection Day" went out over the world and brought me fame—and + everything else that heart could desire. [With greater warmth.] But I no + longer loved my own work. Men's laurels and incense nauseated me, till I + could have rushed away in despair and hidden myself in the depths of the + woods. [Looking at her.] You, who are a thought-reader—can you + guess what then occurred to me? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Lightly.] Yes, it occurred to you to make portrait-busts of gentlemen + and ladies. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Nods.] To order, yes. With animals' faces behind the masks. Those I + threw in gratis—into the bargain, you understand. [Smiling.] But + that was not precisely what I had in my mind. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + What, then? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Again serious.] It was this, that all the talk about the artist's + vocation and the artist's mission, and so forth, began to strike me as + being very empty, and hollow, and meaningless at bottom. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Then what would you put in its place? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Life, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Life? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, is not life in sunshine and in beauty a hundred times better worth + while than to hang about to the end of your days in a raw, damp hole, + and wear yourself out in a perpetual struggle with lumps of clay and + blocks of stone? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With a little sigh.] Yes, I have always thought so, certainly. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And then I had become rich enough to live in luxury and in indolent, + quivering sunshine. I was able to build myself the villa on the Lake of + Taunitz, and the palazzo in the capital,—and all the rest of it. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Taking up his tone.] And last but not least, you could afford to treat + yourself to me, too. And you gave me leave to share in all your + treasures. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Jesting, so as to turn the conversation.] Did I not promise to take you + up to a high enough mountain and show you all the glory of the world? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With a gentle expression.] You have perhaps taken me up with you to a + high enough mountain, Rubek—but you have not shown me all the + glory of the world. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a laugh of irritation.] How insatiable you are, Maia.! Absolutely + insatiable! [With a vehement outburst.] But do you know what is the most + hopeless thing of all, Maia? Can you guess that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With quiet defiance.] Yes, I suppose it is that you have gone and tied + yourself to me—for life. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I would not have expressed myself so heartlessly. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + But you would have meant it just as heartlessly. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You have no clear idea of the inner workings of an artist's nature. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Smiling and shaking her head.] Good heavens, I haven't even a clear + idea of the inner workings of my own nature. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Continuing undisturbed.] I live at such high speed, Maia. We live so, + we artists. I, for my part, have lived through a whole lifetime in the + few years we two have known each other. I have come to realise that I am + not at all adapted for seeking happiness in indolent enjoyment. Life + does not shape itself that way for me and those like me. I must go on + working—producing one work after another—right up to my + dying day. [Forcing himself to continue.] That is why I cannot get on + with you any longer, Maia—not with you alone. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Quietly.] Does that mean, in plain language, that you have grown tired + of me? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Bursts forth.] Yes, that is what it means! I have grown tired—intolerably + tired and fretted and unstrung—in this life with you! Now you know + it. [Controlling himself.] These are hard, ugly words I am using. I know + that very well. And you are not at all to blame in this matter;—that + I willingly admit. It is simply and solely I myself, who have once more + undergone a revolution—[Half to himself]—and awakening to my + real life. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Involuntarily folding her hands.] Why in all the world should we not + part then? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks at her in astonishment.] Should you be willing to? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Shrugging her shoulders.] Oh yes—if there's nothing else for it, + then— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Eagerly.] But there is something else for it. There is an alternative— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Holding up her forefinger.] Now you are thinking of the pale lady + again! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, to tell the truth, I cannot help constantly thinking of her. Ever + since I met her again. [A step nearer her.] For now I will tell you a + secret, Maia. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Touching his own breast.] In here, you see—in here I have a + little bramah-locked casket. And in that casket all my sculptor's + visions are stored up. But when she disappeared and left no trace, the + lock of the casket snapped to. And she had the key—and she took it + away with her.—You, little Maia, you had no key; so all that the + casket contains must lie unused. And the years pass! And I have no means + of getting at the treasure. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Trying to repress a subtle smile.] Then get her to open the casket for + you again— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Not understanding.] Maia—? + </p> + <p> + MAIA. —for here she is, you see. And no doubt it's on account of + this casket that she has come. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I have not said a single word to her on this subject! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks innocently at him.] My dear Rubek—is it worth while to make + all this fuss and commotion about so simple a matter? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Do you think this matter is so absolutely simple? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, certainly I think so. Do you attach yourself to whoever you most + require. [Nods to him.] I shall always manage to find a place for + myself. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Where do you mean? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Unconcerned, evasively.] Well—I need only take myself off to the + villa, if it should be necessary. But it won't be; for in town—in + all that great house of ours—there must surely, with a little good + will, be room enough for three. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Uncertainly.] And do you think that would work in the long run? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [In a light tone.] Very well, then—if it won't work, it won't. It + is no good talking about it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And what shall we do then, Maia—if it does not work? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Untroubled.] Then we two will simply get out of each other's way—part + entirely. I shall always find something new for myself, somewhere in the + world. Something free! Free! Free!—No need to be anxious about + that, Professor Rubek! [Suddenly points off to the right.] Look there! + There we have her. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Turning.] Where? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Out on the plain. Striding—like a marble stature. She is coming + this way. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Stands gazing with his hand over his eyes.] Does not she look like the + Resurrection incarnate? [To himself.] And her I could displace—and + move into the shade! Remodel her—. Fool that I was! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + What do you mean by that? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Putting the question aside.] Nothing. Nothing that you would + understand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [IRENE advances from the right over the upland. The children + at their play have already caught sight of her and run to + meet her. She is now surrounded by them; some appear confident + and at ease, others uneasy and timid. She talks low to them + and indicates that they are to go down to the hotel; she + herself will rest a little beside the brook. The children + run down over the slope to the left, half way to the back. + IRENE goes up to the wall of rock, and lets the rillets of + the cascade flow over her hands, cooling them. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [In a low voice.] Go down and speak to her alone, Rubek. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And where will you go in the meantime? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looking significantly at him.] Henceforth I shall go my own ways. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She descends form the hillock and leaps over the brook, by aid + of her alpenstock. She stops beside IRENE. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + Professor Rubek is up there, waiting for you, madam. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + What does he want? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + He wants you to help him to open a casket that has snapped to. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Can I help him in that? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + He says you are the only person that can. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Then I must try. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, you really must, madam. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She goes down by the path to the hotel. + + [In a little while PROFESSOR RUBEK comes down to IRENE, but stops + with the brook between them. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [After a short pause.] She—the other one—said that you had + been waiting for me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I have waited for you year after year—without myself knowing it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I could not come to you, Arnold. I was lying down there, sleeping the + long, deep, dreamful sleep. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But now you have awakened, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Shakes her head.] I have the heavy, deep sleep still in my eyes. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You shall see that day will dawn and lighten for us both. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Do not believe that. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Urgently.] I do believe it! And I know it! Now that I have found you + again— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Risen from the grave. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Transfigured! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Only risen, Arnold. Not transfigured. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He crosses over to her by means of stepping-stones below the + cascade. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Where have you been all day, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Pointing.] Far, far over there, on the great dead waste— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Turning the conversation.] You have not your—your friend with you + to-day, I see. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Smiling.] My friend is keeping a close watch on me, none the less. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Can she? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Glancing furtively around.] You may be sure she can—wherever I + may go. She never loses sight of me— [Whispering.] Until, one fine + sunny morning, I shall kill her. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Would you do that? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + With the utmost delight—if only I could manage it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why do you want to? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Because she deals in witchcraft. [Mysteriously.] Only think, Arnold—she + has changed herself into my shadow. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Trying to calm her.] Well, well, well—a shadow we must all have. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I am my own shadow. [With an outburst.] Do you not understand that! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Sadly.] Yes, yes, Irene, I understand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He seats himself on a stone beside the brook. She stands behind + him, leaning against the wall of rock. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [After a pause.] Why do you sit there turning your eyes away from me? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Softly, shaking his head.] I dare not—I dare not look at you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Why dare you not look at me any more? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You have a shadow that tortures me. And I have the crushing weight of my + conscience. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a glad cry of deliverance.] At last! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Springs up.] Irene—what is it! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Motioning him off.] Keep still, still, still! [Draws a deep breath and + says, as though relieved of a burden.] There! Now they let me go. For + this time.—Now we can sit down and talk as we used to—when I + was alive. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, if only we could talk as we used to. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Sit there, where you were sitting. I will sit here beside you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He sits down again. She seats herself on another stone, close + to him. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [After a short interval of silence.] Now I have come back to you from + the uttermost regions, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Aye, truly, from an endless journey. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Come home to my lord and master— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + To our home;—to our own home, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Have you looked for my coming every single day? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + How dared I look for you? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a sidelong glance.] No, I suppose you dared not. For you + understood nothing. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Was it really not for the sake of some one else that you all of a sudden + disappeared from me in that way? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Might it not quite well be for your sake, Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks doubtfully at her.] I don't understand you—? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + When I had served you with my soul and with my body—when the + statue stood there finished—our child as you called it—then + I laid at your feet the most precious sacrifice of all—by effacing + myself for all time. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Bows his head.] And laying my life waste. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Suddenly firing up.] It was just that I wanted! Never, never should you + create anything again—after you had created that only child of + ours. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Was it jealously that moved you, then? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Coldly.] I think it was rather hatred. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Hatred? Hatred for me? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Again vehemently.] Yes, for you—for the artist who had so lightly + and carelessly taken a warm-blooded body, a young human life, and worn + the soul out of it—because you needed it for a work of art. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And you can say that—you who threw yourself into my work with such + saint-like passion and such ardent joy?—that work for which we two + met together every morning, as for an act of worship. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Coldly, as before.] I will tell you one thing, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I never loved your art, before I met you.—Nor after either. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But the artist, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + The artist I hate. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + The artist in me too? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + In you most of all. When I unclothed myself and stood for you, then I + hated you, Arnold— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Warmly.] That you did not, Irene! That is not true! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I hated you, because you could stand there so unmoved— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Laughs.] Unmoved? Do you think so? + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —at any rate so intolerably self-controlled. And because + you were an artist and an artist only—not a man! [Changing to a + tone full of warmth and feeling.] But that statue in the wet, living + clay, that I loved—as it rose up, a vital human creature, out of + those raw, shapeless masses—for that was our creation, our child. + Mine and yours. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Sadly.] It was so in spirit and in truth. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Let me tell you, Arnold—it is for the sake of this child of ours + that I have undertaken this long pilgrimage. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Suddenly alert.] For the statue's—? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Call it what you will. I call it our child. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And now you want to see it? Finished? In marble, which you always + thought so cold? [Eagerly.] You do not know, perhaps, that it is + installed in a great museum somewhere—far out in the world? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I have heard a sort of legend about it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And museums were always a horror to you. You called them grave-vaults— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I will make a pilgrimage to the place where my soul and my child's soul + lie buried. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Uneasy and alarmed.] You must never see that statue again! Do you hear, + Irene! I implore you—! Never, never see it again! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Perhaps you think it would mean death to me a second time? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Clenching his hands together.] Oh, I don't know what I think.—But + how could I ever imagine that you would fix your mind so immovably on + that statue? You, who went away from me—before it was completed. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + It was completed. That was why I could go away from you—and leave + you alone. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Sits with his elbows upon his knees, rocking his head from side to + side, with his hands before his eyes.] It was not what it afterwards + became. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Quietly but quick as lightning, half-unsheathes a narrow-bladed sharp + knife which she carried in her breast, and asks in a hoarse whisper.] + Arnold—have you done any evil to our child? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Evasively.] Any evil?—How can I be sure what you would call it? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Breathless.] Tell me at once: what have you done to the child? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I will tell you, if you will sit and listen quietly to what I say. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Hides the knife.] I will listen as quietly as a mother can when she— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Interrupting.] And you must not look at me while I am telling you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Moves to a stone behind his back.] I will sit here, behind you.—Now + tell me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Takes his hands from before his eyes and gazes straight in front of + him. When I had found you, I knew at once how I should make use of you + for my life-work. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + "The Resurrection Day" you called your life-work.—I call it "our + child." + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I was young then—with no knowledge of life. The Resurrection, I + thought, would be most beautifully and exquisitely figured as a young + unsullied woman—with none of our earth-life's experiences—awakening + to light and glory without having to put away from her anything ugly and + impure. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Quickly.] Yes—and so I stand there now, in our work? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Hesitating.] Not absolutely and entirely so, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [In rising excitement.] Not absolutely—? Do I not stand as I + always stood for you? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Without answering.] I learned worldly wisdom in the years that + followed, Irene. "The Resurrection Day" became in my mind's eye + something more and something—something more complex. The little + round plinth on which your figure stood erect and solitary—it no + longer afforded room for all the imagery I now wanted to add— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Groped for her knife, but desists.] What imagery did you add then? Tell + me! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I imagined that which I saw with my eyes around me in the world. I had + to include it—I could not help it, Irene. I expanded the plinth—made + it wide and spacious. And on it I placed a segment of the curving, + bursting earth. And up from the fissures of the soil there now swarm men + and women with dimly-suggested animal-faces. Women and men—as I + knew them in real life. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [In breathless suspense.] But in the middle of the rout there stands the + young woman radiant with the joy of light?—Do I not stand so, + Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Evasively.] Not quite in the middle. I had unfortunately to move that + figure a little back. For the sake of the general effect, you + understand. Otherwise it would have dominated the whole too much. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + But the joy in the light still transfigures my face? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, it does, Irene—in a way. A little subdued perhaps—as my + altered idea required. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Rising noiselessly.] That design expresses the life you now see, + Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, I suppose it does. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And in that design you have shifted me back, a little toned down—to + serve as a background-figure—in a group. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She draws the knife. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Not a background-figure. Let us say, at most, a figure not quite in the + foreground—or something of that sort. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Whispers hoarsely.] There you uttered your own doom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [On the point of striking. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Turns and looks up at her.] Doom? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Hastily hides the knife, and says as though choked with agony.] My + whole soul—you and I—we, we, we and our child were in that + solitary figure. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Eagerly, taking off his hat and drying the drops of sweat upon his + brow.] Yes, but let me tell you, too, how I have placed myself in the + group. In front, beside a fountain—as it were here—sits a + man weighed down with guilt, who cannot quite free himself from the + earth-crust. I call him remorse for a forfeited life. He sits there and + dips his fingers in the purling stream—to wash them clean—and + he is gnawed and tortured by the thought that never, never will he + succeed. Never in all eternity will he attain to freedom and the new + life. He will remain for ever prisoned in his hell. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Hardly and coldly.] Poet! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Why poet? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Because you are nerveless and sluggish and full of forgiveness for all + the sins of your life, in thought and in act. You have killed my soul—so + you model yourself in remorse, and self-accusation, and penance—[Smiling.] + —and with that you think your account is cleared. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Defiantly.] I am an artist, Irene. And I take no shame to myself for + the frailties that perhaps cling to me. For I was born to be an artist, + you see. And, do what I may, I shall never be anything else. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looks at him with a lurking evil smile, and says gently and softly.] + You are a poet, Arnold. [Softly strokes his hair.] You dear, great, + middle-aged child,—is it possible that you cannot see that! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Annoyed.] Why do you keep on calling me a poet? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With malign eyes.] Because there is something apologetic in the word, + my friend. Something that suggests forgiveness of sins—and spreads + a cloak over all frailty. [With a sudden change of tone.] But I was a + human being—then! And I, too, had a life to live,—and a + human destiny to fulfil. And all that, look you, I let slip—gave + it all up in order to make myself your bondwoman.—Oh, it was + self-murder—a deadly sin against myself! [Half whispering.] And + that sin I can never expiate! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She seats herself near him beside the brook, keeps close, though + unnoticed, watch upon him, and, as though in absence of mind, + plucks some flowers form the shrubs around them. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [With apparent self-control.] I should have borne children in the world—many + children—real children—not such children as are hidden away + in grave-vaults. That was my vocation. I ought never to have served you—poet. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Lost in recollection.] Yet those were beautiful days, Irene. + Marvellously beautiful days—as I now look back upon them— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looking at him with a soft expression.] Can you remember a little word + that you said—when you had finished—finished with me and + with our child? [Nods to him.] Can you remember that little word, + Arnold? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks inquiringly at her.] Did I say a little word then, which you + still remember? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, you did. Can you not recall it? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shaking his head.] No, I can't say that I do. Not at the present + moment, at any rate. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + You took both my hands and pressed them warmly. And I stood there in + breathless expectation. And then you said: "So now, Irene, I thank you + from my heart. This," you said, "has been a priceless episode for me." + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks doubtfully at her.] Did I say "episode"? It is not a word I am in + the habit of using. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + You said "episode." + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With assumed cheerfulness.] Well, well—after all, it was in + reality an episode. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Curtly.] At that word I left you. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You take everything so painfully to heart, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Drawing her hand over her forehead.] Perhaps you are right. Let us + shake off all the hard things that go to the heart. [Plucks off the + leaves of a mountain rose and strews them on the brook.] Look there, + Arnold. There are our birds swimming. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What birds are they? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Can you not see? Of course they are flamingoes. Are they not rose-red? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Flamingoes do not swim. They only wade. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Then they are not flamingoes. They are sea-gulls. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + They may be sea-gulls with red bills, yes. [Plucks broad green leaves + and throws them into the brook.] Now I send out my ships after them. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + But there must be no harpoon-men on board. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No, there shall be no harpoon-men. [Smiles to her.] Can you remember the + summer when we used to sit like this outside the little peasant hut on + the Lake of Taunitz? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Nods.] On Saturday evenings, yes,—when we had finished our week's + work— + </p> + <p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. —And taken the train out to the lake—to + stay there over Sunday— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With an evil gleam of hatred in her eyes.] It was an episode, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [As if not hearing.] Then, too, you used to set birds swimming in the + brook. They were water-lilies which you— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + They were white swans. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I meant swans, yes. And I remember that I fastened a great furry leaf to + one of the swans. It looked like a burdock-leaf— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And then it turned into Lohengrin's boat—with the swan yoked to + it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + How fond you were of that game, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + We played it over and over again. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Every single Saturday, I believe,—all the summer through. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + You said I was the swan that drew your boat. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Did I say so? Yes, I daresay I did. [Absorbed in the game.] Just see how + the sea-gulls are swimming down the stream! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Laughing.] And all your ships have run ashore. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Throwing more leaves into the brook.] I have ships enough in reserve. + [Follows the leaves with his eyes, throws more into the brook, and says + after a pause.] Irene,—I have bought the little peasant hut beside + the Lake of Taunitz. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Have you bought it? You often said you would, if you could afford it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + The day came when I could afford it easily enough; and so I bought it. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a sidelong look at him.] Then do you live out there now—in + our old house? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + No, I have had it pulled down long ago. And I have built myself a great, + handsome, comfortable villa on the site—with a park around it. It + is there that we— [Stops and corrects himself.] —there that + I usually live during the summer. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Mastering herself.] So you and—and the other one live out there + now? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [With a touch of defiance.] Yes. When my wife and I are not travelling—as + we are this year. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looking far before her.] Life was beautiful, beautiful by the Lake of + Taunitz. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [As though looking back into himself.] And yet, Irene— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Completing his thought.] —yet we two let slip all that life and + its beauty. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Softly, urgently.] Does repentance come too late, now? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Does not answer, but sits silent for a moment; then she points over the + upland.] Look there, Arnold,—now the sun is going down behind the + peaks. See what a red glow the level rays cast over all the heathery + knolls out yonder. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks where she is pointing.] It is long since I have seen a sunset in + the mountains. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Or a sunrise? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + A sunrise I don't think I have ever seen. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Smiles as though lost in recollection.] I once saw a marvellously + lovely sunrise. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Did you? Where was that? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + High, high up on a dizzy mountain-top.—You beguiled me up there by + promising that I should see all the glory of the world if only I— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She stops suddenly. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + If only you—? Well? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I did as you told me—went with you up to the heights. And there I + fell upon my knees and worshipped you, and served you. [Is silent for a + moment; then says softly.] Then I saw the sunrise. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Turning at him with a scornful smile.] With you—and the other + woman? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Urgently.] With me—as in our days of creation. You could open all + that is locked up in me. Can you not find it in your heart, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Shaking her head.] I have no longer the key to you, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + You have the key! You and you alone possess it! [Beseechingly.] Help me—that + I may be able to live my life over again! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Immovable as before.] Empty dreams! Idle—dead dreams. For the + life you and I led there is no resurrection. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Curtly, breaking off.] Then let us go on playing. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, playing, playing—only playing! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [They sit and strew leaves and petals over the brook, where they + float and sail away. + + [Up the slope to the left at the back come ULFHEIM and MAIA in + hunting costume. After them comes the SERVANT with the leash + of dogs, with which he goes out to the right. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Catching sight of them.] Ah! There is little Maia, going out with the + bear-hunter. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Your lady, yes. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Or the other's. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks around as she is crossing the upland, sees the two sitting by the + brook, and calls out.] Good-night, Professor! Dream of me. Now I am + going off on my adventures! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Calls back to her.] What sort of an adventure is this to be? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Approaching.] I am going to let life take the place of all the rest. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Mockingly.] Aha! So you too are going to do that, little Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes. And I've made a verse about it, and this is how it goes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Sings triumphantly.] + + I am free! I am free! I am free! + No more life in the prison for me! + I am free as a bird! I am free! + For I believe I have awakened now—at last. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It almost seems so. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Drawing a deep breath.] Oh—how divinely light one feels on + waking! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Good-night, Frau Maia—and good luck to— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Calls out, interposing.] Hush, hush!—for the devil's sake let's + have none of your wizard wishes. Don't you see that we are going out to + shoot— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What will you bring me home from the hunting, Maia? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You shall have a bird of prey to model. I shall wing one for you. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Laughs mockingly and bitterly.] Yes, to wing things—without + knowing what you are doing—that has long been quite in your way. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Tossing her head.] Oh, just let me take care of myself for the future, + and I wish you then—! [Nods and laughs roguishly.] Good-bye—and + a good, peaceful summer night on the upland! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Jestingly.] Thanks! And all the ill-luck in the world over you and your + hunting! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Roaring with laughter.] There now, that is a wish worth having! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Laughing.] Thanks, thanks, thanks, Professor! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [They have both crossed the visible portion of the upland, and go + out through the bushes to the right. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [After a short pause.] A summer night on the upland! Yes, that would + have been life! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Suddenly, with a wild expression in her eyes.] Will you spend a summer + night on the upland—with me? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Stretching his arms wide.] Yes, yes,—come! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + My adored lord and master! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Hoarsely, smiling and groping in her breast.] It will be only an + episode— [Quickly, whispering.] Hush!—do not look round, + Arnold! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Also in a low voice.] What is it? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + A face that is staring at me. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Turns involuntarily.] Where! [With a start.] Ah—! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The SISTER OF MERCY's head is partly visible among the bushes + beside the descent to the left. Her eyes are immovably fixed + on IRENE. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [Rises and says softly.] We must part then. No, you must remain sitting. + Do you hear? You must not go with me. [Bends over him and whispers.] + Till we meet again—to-night—on the upland. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + And you will come, Irene? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, surely I will come. Wait for me here. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Repeats dreamily.] Summer night on the upland. With you. With you. [His + eyes meet hers.] Oh, Irene—that might have been our life.—And + that we have forfeited—we two. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + We see the irretrievable only when— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Breaks off. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Looks inquiringly at her.] When—? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + When we dead awaken. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Shakes his head mournfully.] What do we really see then? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + We see that we have never lived. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She goes towards the slope and descends. + + [The SISTER OF MERCY makes way for her and follows her. + PROFESSOR RUBEK remains sitting motionless beside the brook. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Is heard singing triumphantly among the hills.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am free! I am free! I am free! + No more life in the prison for me! + I am free as a bird! I am free! +</pre> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT THIRD. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[A wild riven mountain-side, with sheer precipices at the back. + Snow-clad peaks rise to the right, and lose themselves in drifting + mists. To the left, on a stone-scree, stands an old, half-ruined + hut. It is early morning. Dawn is breaking. The sun has not + yet risen. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[MAIA comes, flushed and irritated, down over the stone-scree on the + left. ULFHEIM follows, half angry, half laughing, holding her + fast by the sleeve. +</pre> + MAIA. + <p> + [Trying to tear herself loose.] Let me go! Let me go, I say! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Come, Come! are you going to bite now? You're as snappish as a wolf. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Striking him over the hand.] Let me, I tell you? And be quiet! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + No, confound me if I will! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Then I will not go another step with you. Do you hear?—not a + single step! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Ho, ho! How can you get away from me, here, on the wild mountain-side? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I will jump over the precipice yonder, if need be— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And mangle and mash yourself up into dogs'-meat! A juicy morsel! [Lets + go his hold.] As you please. Jump over the precipice if you want to. + It's a dizzy drop. There's only one narrow footpath down it, and that's + almost impassable. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Dusts her skirt with her hand, and looks at him with angry eyes.] Well, + you are a nice one to go hunting with! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Say rather, sporting. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh! So you call this sport, do you? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Yes, I venture to take that liberty. It is the sort of sport I like best + of all. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Tossing her head.] Well—I must say! [After a pause; looks + searchingly at him.] Why did you let the dogs loose up there? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Blinking his eyes and smiling.] So that they too might do a little + hunting on their own account, don't you see? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + There's not a word of truth in that! It wasn't for the dogs' sake that + you let them go. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Still smiling.] Well, why did I let them go then? Let us hear. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + You let them go because you wanted to get rid of Lars. He was to run + after them and bring them in again, you said. And in the meant-time—. + Oh, it was a pretty way to behave! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + In the meantime? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Curtly breaking off.] No matter! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [In a confidential tone.] Lars won't find them. You may safely swear to + that. He won't come with them before the time's up. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looking angrily at him.] No, I daresay not. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Catching at her arm.] For Lars—he knows my—my methods of + sport, you see. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Eludes him, and measures him with a glance.] Do you know what you look + like, Mr. Ulfheim? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I should think I'm probably most like myself. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, there you're exactly right. For you're the living image of a faun. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + A faun? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, precisely; a faun. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + A faun! Isn't that a sort of monster? Or a kind of a wood demon, as you + might call it? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, just the sort of creature you are. A thing with a goat's beard and + goat-legs. Yes, and the faun has horns too! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + So, so!—has he horns too? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + A pair of ugly horns, just like yours, yes. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Can you see the poor little horns <i>I</i> have? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, I seem to see them quite plainly. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Taking the dogs' leash out of his pocket.] Then I had better see about + tying you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Have you gone quite mad? Would you tie me? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + If I am a demon, let me be a demon! So that's the way of it! You can see + the horns, can you? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Soothingly.] There, there, there! Now try to behave nicely, Mr. + Ulfheim. [Breaking off.] But what has become of that hunting-castle of + yours, that you boasted so much of? You said it lay somewhere + hereabouts. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Points with a flourish to the hut.] There you have it, before your very + eyes. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks at him.] That old pig-stye! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Laughing in his beard.] It has harboured more than one king's daughter, + I can tell you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Was it there that that horrid man you told me about came to the king's + daughter in the form of a bear? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Yes, my fair companion of the chase—this is the scene. [With a + gesture of invitation.] If you would deign to enter— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Isch! If ever I set foot in it—! Isch! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Oh, two people can doze away a summer night in there comfortably enough. + Or a whole summer, if it comes to that! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Thanks! One would need to have a pretty strong taste for that kind of + thing. [Impatiently.] But now I am tired both of you and the hunting + expedition. Now I am going down to the hotel—before people awaken + down there. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + How do you propose to get down from here? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + That's your affair. There must be a way down somewhere or other, I + suppose. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Pointing towards the back.] Oh, certainly! There is a sort of way—right + down the face of the precipice yonder— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + There, you see. With a little goodwill— + </p> + <p> + ULFHEIM. —but just you try if you dare go that way. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Doubtfully.] Do you think I can't? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Never in this world—if you don't let me help you. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Uneasily.] Why, then come and help me! What else are you here for? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Would you rather I should take you on my back—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Nonsense! + </p> + <p> + ULFHEIM. —or carry you in my arms? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Now do stop talking that rubbish! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [With suppressed exasperation.] I once took a young girl—lifted + her up from the mire of the streets and carried her in my arms. Next my + heart I carried her. So I would have borne her all through life—lest + haply she should dash her foot against a stone. For her shoes were worn + very thin when I found her— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + And yet you took her up and carried her next your heart? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Took her up out of the gutter and carried her as high and as carefully + as I could. [With a growling laugh.] And do you know what I got for my + reward? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + No. What did you get? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Looks at her, smiles and nods.] I got the horns! The horns that you can + see so plainly. Is not that a comical story, madam bear-murderess? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh yes, comical enough! But I know another story that is still more + comical. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + How does that story go? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + This is how it goes. There was once a stupid girl, who had both a father + and a mother—but a rather poverty-stricken home. Then there came a + high and mighty seigneur into the midst of all this poverty. And he took + the girl in his arms—as you did—and travelled far, far away + with her— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Was she so anxious to be with him? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, for she was stupid, you see. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And he, no doubt, was a brilliant and beautiful personage? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Oh, no, he wasn't so superlatively beautiful either. But he pretended + that he would take her with him to the top of the highest of mountains, + where there were light and sunshine without end. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + So he was a mountaineer, was he, that man? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, he was—in his way. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And then he took the girl up with him—? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With a toss of the head.] Took her up with him finely, you may be sure! + Oh no! he beguiled her into a cold, clammy cage, where—as it + seemed to her—there was neither sunlight nor fresh air, but only + gilding and great petrified ghosts of people all around the walls. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Devil take me, but it served her right! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, but don't you think it's quite a comical story, all the same? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Looks at her moment.] Now listen to me, my good companion of the chase— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Well, what it is now? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Should not we two tack our poor shreds of life together? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Is his worship inclined to set up as a patching-tailor? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Yes, indeed he is. Might not we two try to draw the rags together here + and there—so as to make some sort of a human life out of them? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + And when the poor tatters were quite worn out—what then? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [With a large gesture.] Then there we shall stand, free and serene—as + the man and woman we really are! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Laughing.] You with your goat-legs yes! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And you with your—. Well, let that pass. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, come—let us pass—on. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Stop! Whither away, comrade? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Down to the hotel, of course. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And afterward? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Then we'll take a polite leave of each other, with thanks for pleasant + company. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Can we part, we two? Do you think we can? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Yes, you didn't manage to tie me up, you know. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + I have a castle to offer you— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Pointing to the hut.] A fellow to that one? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + It has not fallen to ruin yet. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + And all the glory of the world, perhaps? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + A castle, I tell you— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Thanks! I have had enough of castles. + </p> + <p> + ULFHEIM. —with splendid hunting-grounds stretching for miles + around it. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Are there works of art too in this castle? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Slowly.] Well, no—it's true there are no works of art; but— + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Relieved.] Ah! that's one good thing, at any rate! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Will you go with me, then—as far and as long as I want you? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + There is a tame bird of prey keeping watch upon me. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Wildly.] We'll put a bullet in his wing, Maia! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Looks at him a moment, and says resolutely.] Come then, and carry me + down into the depths. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Puts his arm round her waist.] It is high time! The mist is upon us! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Is the way down terribly dangerous? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + The mountain is more dangerous still. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [She shakes him off, goes to the edge of the precipice and looks + over, but starts quickly back. +</pre> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Goes towards her, laughing.] What? Does it make you a little giddy? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Faintly.] Yes, that too. But go and look over. Those two, coming up— + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Goes and bends over the edge of the precipice.] It's only your bird of + prey—and his strange lady. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + Can't we get past them—without their seeing us? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Impossible! The path is far too narrow. And there's no other way down. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Nerving herself.] Well, well—let us face them here, then! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Spoken like a true bear-killer, comrade! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [PROFESSOR RUBEK and IRENE appear over the edge of the precipice + at the back. He has his plaid over his shoulders; she has a + fur cloak thrown loosely over her white dress, and a swansdown + hood over her head. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Still only half visible above the edge.] What, Maia! So we two meet + once again? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [With assumed coolness.] At your service. Won't you come up? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [PROFESSOR RUBEK climbs right up and holds out his hand to IRENE, + who also comes right to the top. +</pre> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Coldly to MAIA.] So you, too, have been all night on the mountain,—as + we have? + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + I have been hunting—yes. You gave me permission, you know. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Pointing downward.] Have you come up that path there? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + As you saw. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + And the strange lady too? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Yes, of course. [With a glance at MAIA.] Henceforth the strange lady and + I do not intend our ways to part. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Don't you know, then, that it is a deadly dangerous way you have come? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + We thought we would try it, nevertheless. For it did not seem + particularly hard at first. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + No, at first nothing seems hard. But presently you may come to a tight + place where you can neither get forward nor back. And then you stick + fast, Professor! Mountain-fast, as we hunters call it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Smiles and looks at him.] Am I to take these as oracular utterances, + Mr. Ulfheim? + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + Lord preserve me from playing the oracle! [Urgently, pointing up towards + the heights.] But don't you see that the storm is upon us? Don't you + hear the blasts of wind? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Listening.] They sound like the prelude to the Resurrection Day. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + They are storm-blasts form the peaks, man! Just look how the clouds are + rolling and sinking—soon they'll be all around us like a + winding-sheet! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a start and shiver.] I know that sheet! + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Drawing ULFHEIM away.] Let us make haste and get down. + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [To PROFESSOR RUBEK.] I cannot help more than one. Take refuge in the + hut in the mean-time—while the storm lasts. Then I shall send + people up to fetch the two of you away. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [In terror.] To fetch us away! No, no! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Harshly.] To take you by force if necessary—for it's a matter of + life and death here. Now, you know it. [To MAIA.] Come, then—and + don't fear to trust yourself in your comrade's hands. + </p> + MAIA. + <p> + [Clinging to him.] Oh, how I shall rejoice and sing, if I get down with + a whole skin! + </p> + ULFHEIM. + <p> + [Begins the descent and calls to the others.] You'll wait, then, in the + hut, till the men come with ropes, and fetch you away. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [ULFHEIM, with MAIA in his arms, clambers rapidly but warily down + the precipice. +</pre> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looks for some time at PROFESSOR RUBEK with terror-stricken eyes.] Did + you hear that, Arnold?—men are coming up to fetch me away! Many + men will come up here— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Do not be alarmed, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [In growing terror.] And she, the woman in black—she will come + too. For she must have missed me long ago. And then she will seize me, + Arnold! And put me in the strait-waistcoat. Oh, she has it with her, in + her box. I have seen it with my own eyes— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Not a soul shall be suffered to touch you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a wild smile.] Oh no—I myself have a resource against that. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What resource do you mean? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Drawing out the knife.] This! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Tries to seize it.] Have you a knife? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Always, always—both day and night—in bed as well! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Give me that knife, Irene! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Concealing it.] You shall not have it. I may very likely find a use for + it myself. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What use can you have for it, here? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looks fixedly at him.] It was intended for you, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + For me! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + As we were sitting by the Lake of Taunitz last evening— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + By the Lake of— + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —outside the peasant's hut—and playing with swans and + water-lilies— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + What then—what then? + </p> + <p> + IRENE. —and when I heard you say with such deathly, icy coldness—that + I was nothing but an episode in your life— + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It was you that said that, Irene, not I. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Continuing.] —then I had my knife out. I wanted to stab you in + the back with it. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Darkly.] And why did you hold your hand? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Because it flashed upon me with a sudden horror that you were dead + already—long ago. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Dead? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Dead. Dead, you as well as I. We sat there by the Lake of Taunitz, we + two clay-cold bodies—and played with each other. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + I do not call that being dead. But you do not understand me. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Then where is the burning desire for me that you fought and battled + against when I stood freely forth before you as the woman arisen from + the dead? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Our love is assuredly not dead, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + The love that belongs to the life of earth—the beautiful, + miraculous earth-life—the inscrutable earth-life—that is + dead in both of us. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Passionately.] And do you know that just that love—it is burning + and seething in me as hotly as ever before? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + And I? Have you forgotten who I now am? + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Be who or what you please, for aught I care! For me, you are the woman I + see in my dreams of you. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + I have stood on the turn-table-naked—and made a show of myself to + many hundreds of men—after you. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + It was I that drove you to the turn-table—blind as I then was—I, + who placed the dead clay-image above the happiness of life—of + love. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looking down.] Too late—too late! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Not by a hairsbreadth has all that has passed in the interval lowered + you in my eyes. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With head erect.] Nor in my own! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Well, what then! Then we are free—and there is still time for us + to live our life, Irene. + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Looks sadly at him.] The desire for life is dead in me, Arnold. Now I + have arisen. And I look for you. And I find you.—And then I see + that you and life lie dead—as I have lain. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + Oh, how utterly you are astray! Both in us and around us life is + fermenting and throbbing as fiercely as ever! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Smiling and shaking her head.] The young woman of your Resurrection Day + can see all life lying on its bier. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Throwing his arms violently around her.] Then let two of the dead—us + two—for once live life to its uttermost—before we go down to + our graves again! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [With a shriek.] Arnold! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + But not here in the half darkness! Not here with this hideous dank + shroud flapping around us— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Carried away by passion.] No, no—up in the light, and in all the + glittering glory! Up to the Peak of Promise! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + There we will hold our marriage-feast, Irene—oh, my beloved! + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [Proudly.] The sun may freely look on us, Arnold. + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + All the powers of light may freely look on us—and all the powers + of darkness too. [Seizes her hand.] Will you then follow me, oh my + grace-given bride? + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + [As though transfigured.] I follow you, freely and gladly, my lord and + master! + </p> + PROFESSOR RUBEK. + <p> + [Drawing her along with him.] We must first pass through the mists, + Irene, and then— + </p> + IRENE. + <p> + Yes, through all the mists, and then right up to the summit of the tower + that shines in the sunrise. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The mist-clouds close in over the scene—PROFESSOR RUBEK and + IRENE, hand in hand, climb up over the snow-field to the right + and soon disappear among the lower clouds. Keen storm-gusts + hurtle and whistle through the air. + + [The SISTER OF MERCY appears upon the stone-scree to the left. + She stops and looks around silently and searchingly. +</pre> + MAIA. +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am free! I am free! I am free! + No more life in the prison for me! + I am free as a bird! I am free! + + [Suddenly a sound like thunder is heard from high up on the snow- + field, which glides and whirls downwards with headlong speed. + PROFESSOR RUBEK and IRENE can be dimly discerned as they are + whirled along with the masses of snow and buried in them. +</pre> + THE SISTER OF MERCY. + <p> + [Gives a shriek, stretches out her arms towards them and cries.] Irene! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Stands silent a moment, then makes the sign of the cross before + her in the air, and says. +</pre> + <p> + Pax vobiscum! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [MAIA's triumphant song sounds from still farther down below. +</pre> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When We Dead Awaken, by Henrik Ibsen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN *** + +***** This file should be named 4782-h.htm or 4782-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/8/4782/ + +Produced by Sonia K, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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