Act One:
Page I – Page II – Page III – Page IV – Page V
Act Two:
Page I  –  Page II  –  Page III
Act Three:
Page I – Page II – Page III – Page IV

ACT ONE (Page III)

              Give me your hand!

              I'm so happy, I feel my heart's going to burst

              If I don't tell someone –

 

FALK:                                             Easy, man!

              You'll be duly heard, tried, and hanged; but first

              What have you been up to, keeping from me -

              Your best friend! - the treasure you've found?

              For it only can mean, if my hunch is sound,

              You've come up with first prize on the lottery.

 

LIND:    Snared the loveliest bird in Love's aviary!

 

FALK:   Snared?   Ah, but alive?   Not fatally hurt?

 

LIND:   Just hold on a moment,   it will all come out –

              I'm engaged.   Imagine!  

 

FALK:                                             Engaged?

 

 

LIND:                                                                        I am!

              Today!   God knows where I got the courage from.

              I said – but it's hard to find the right words to tell –

              But picture it!   She, the sweet lovely young girl

              Began furiously blushing – not at all angry or scared!

              It was then, Falk, I spoke:   I was no longer afraid .

              She heard me out   -  if I remember, she cried.

              Aren't those good signs?

 

FALK:                                              No doubt of it. What beside?

 

LIND:   As it stands, I presume it means we're engaged?

 

FALK:   So it seems.   However, before you declare a             

              Union, get it ratified, approved by Miss Skjaere.

 

LIND:   No need, I know it.   I feel it for sure.

              No qualms, it's certain, there's nothing to fear.

                            (Radiantly confident)

              Just think, Falk, she allowed me to take her hand

              When she was clearing the coffee table.

 

FALK ( Raises and empties his glass):

               So, for you, Lind, Spring's arrived in our land!

 

LIND   (Similarly) : I solemnly swear, as far as I'm able,

              To worship her for ever, to my last breath,

              As intensely as now, for her sweetness and truth.

 

FALK:   You're engaged!   So that's why you cast aside

              The Law and Prophets and put them back on the shelf!

 

LIND (Laughing) : You thought it was your songs made me decide!

 

FALK:   A Poet's pride, friend, outdoes Faith itself.

 

LIND (Seriously): But don't think, Falk, theology's claims

              Have been driven out by my new happiness.

              Just that books don't seem the way one climbs

              Jacob's ladder up to God's holiness.

              If I'm to seek Him, it must be in Life!

              My heart seems now more whole and pure.

              I love the very straw lying under my feet,

              I love all that makes my good fortune complete.

 

FALK:   But tell me –

 

LIND:                          There's nothing more to declare;

              There's my wealth for all three of us to share!

 

FALK:   I meant, have you thought about what's to come?

 

LIND:   Thought about - ?   What's to   - ? No, from now I stand

              Ready to live for each precious second,

              Eyes turned to where my joy seeks its home.

              With her beside me, I hold Fate in my hand!

              None, not Guldstad, Mrs. Halm, - even you -

              Can stop me seeing my love win through.

              While I've the will, and she her bright eyes,

              The level of our joys can only rise.

 

FALK: Brother-in-joy, with us you belong!

 

LIND:   My life's purpose burns like a fiery song.

              I sense my strength.   If I were to view

              An abyss, I'd confront it -   leap over it, too

 

FALK: It seems, translated into ordinary prose,

              Love's metamorphosed you into a deer

 

LIND:   Well, if the reindeer's leap's the one I choose,

              The wings of my desire will fly to her.

 

FALK:   It can start flying tomorrow morning, pronto!.

              Your joining in our quartet's mountain spree.

              It'll be warm enough up there, I guarantee.

 

LIND:   Your going climbing?   I'll do my climbing solo.

              I'll find my mountain air here in the valleys.

              Here are wild flowers and the wide stretch of fjords,

              The symphonies of leaves, the songs of birds

              And fortunes elves   - these are wherever she is!

 

FALK:   Elves are as rare as elks this area of town;

              Hold fast to them so they don't let you down.

              Hush, - Svanhild –

 

LIND (Pressing his hand) :   Good, I'll be going.   Let no-one

              Know just yet what we've embarked upon.

              Thanks for hearing my secret.   Bury it deep

              In your heart's core.   I give it you to keep.

 

(He goes out the back to the others.   For a moment, FALK follows him with his eyes and walks up and down a couple of times in the garden.   Soon after, SVANHILD   enters from the house, carrying a shawl over her arm, and starts moving towards the back.   FALK goes a few paces towards her, regarding her closely.   SVANHILD stops.)

 

SVANHILD (After a pause) :   Why look at me like that - ?

 

FALK (half to himself) :                                                        Yes, that expression

              In her eyes casts a shadow over their deeps.

              An elf of mockery plays about her lips.

              There it is!

 

SVANHILD:            You alarm me. What do you mean?

 

FALK:    You are called Svanhild?

 

SVANHILD:                                Which you know quite well.

 

FALK:   But do you know how that name's incongruous?

              Do me a favor, send it packing to hell.

 

SVANHILD:   Why do something so ridiculous?

 

FALK (Laughing) : Hm, ‘Svanhild' – ‘Svanhild” – (Suddenly serious) :

                                                                         How were you bestowed

             Such a memento mori as a birthright?

 

SVANHILD:   Why, is it ugly?

 

FALK:                                           No, beautiful and bold.

              But too formidable to accommodate

              Our modern times.   How can they comprehend

              In a modern girl the idea ‘Svanhild' embodies.

              Best throw it away – it's life's come to an end.

 

SVANHILD: Ah yes, the princess in the Viking stories!

 

FALK:   Guiltless, but crushed under the horse's hooves!

 

SVANHILD: That's not the way our modern law behaves.

              I've fantasized riding that horse again.

              Dreamt I was on its back, galloping wide

              Over the world, swift, confident and proud,

              With freedom's air the breeze ruffling its mane.

 

  FALK:   And old, harmless dream. In fantasy's terrain,

                All barriers and bars are safe and tame.

                No risk in using imaginary spurs!

                One's secure on earth whatever leap one dares.

                 Everyone wants to stay alive in fact,

                And none will risk a real salto mortale .

 

SVANHILD (Animatedly) :   Give me the goal and I'd risk it, surely!

              But there must be some meaning to the act!

              Some California beyond the desert sands.

              If not, best stay within familiar bounds.

 

FALK: (Sarcastically) : Oh yes, I get it –our age must take the blame!

 

SVANHILD (Heatedly) : It is   our age!   Why should I sail from home

              Without at least a breeze ruffling the fjord?

 

FALK (Ironically) : So that's it!    Without a guaranteed reward

              Of gold, why use the whip and spurs to ride

              On some wild goose-chase, risking your own hide,

              High in the saddle hunting bold and free?

              Such feats require noble audacity,

             And nobility these days is thought passé -

             Is that what you meant?

 

SVANHILD:                             It's what I could say.

              You see that pear-tree standing over there?

              This year it's without blossoms, completely bare.

              Last year you should have seen the way it stood,

              It's branches bending with their load of fruit.

 

FALK (Somewhat uneasy) : I can believe it.   Well, so what's the point?

SVANHILD (Delicately):   That for some Zacharias today to covet

                A new harvest, is a tad impertinent.

                If the poor tree overproduced before,

                You can't expect the same result this year.

 

FALK:    Example from romance! I should have guessed

              You'd get your answer from the distant past.

 

SVANHILD:   Yes, virtue's of a different kind today.

              Who battles for the truth in any way?

              Who holds to standards of high chivalry?

              Where are our heroes?

 

FALK:                                       Or our Valkyries?

 

SVANHILD: We've no need of Valkyries in our land.

              Last year when danger threatened the true Cross

              In Syria, did you become a fighting man?

              On paper you were full of resolution

              The Appeal Fund at least got your contribution.

 

(Pause:   FALK seems about to answer, but restrains himself and goes towards the garden).

 

SVANHILD (Regarding him a moment, then goes over   and asks gently) :

              Are you angry, Falk?

 

FALK:                                No,   – just a bit low in spirit,

That's all it is.   No more.

 

SVANHILD (With understanding) : Your nature's split

              Into quarreling halves –

 

FALK:                                             Don't think I'm unaware!

 

SVANHILD (Vehemently) : But why!

 

FALK (In an outburst) :                    Why?     I can't let my soul be shown

              Naked for the entire world to gawk and stare,

              The way smug couples parade their love round town.

              I can't go round here with my heart stripped bare,

              Like the sleeveless fashions young girls now wear.

              There was only you, Svanhild, only you.

              Or so I thought, but now that dream is through.

            (Turns after her as she goes over to the summer house and peers out).

              What are you listening to?

 

SVANHILD:                                Another singing.

              Shh!   Do you hear?   At sundown every evening,

              There's this little bird comes flying in –

              Do you see it?   Among the leaves, there, hidden?

              I like to imagine for those of us denied

             The gift of song, God sends such a companion.

             To make up for our loss, mercifully provide

              Songs to enjoy in our own secret garden.

 

FALK (Picking up a stone as she speaks)

              Then it's best the bird goes back where it belongs;

              A stranger's company's no place for its songs.

 

SVANHILD:   That's true. But here, at least is where I can find

              My song.   I've no lyric power and no gift for verse,

              But out of those green shadows, that secret voice

              Composes a poem in the depths of my mind.

              But watch,   it won't stay –it soon will be gone!

           (FALK violently throws the stone:   SVANHILD cries out)

              Oh my God!   You killed it.   What have you done?

              That was wicked, wicked –

 

FALK:                                               No, just an eye

              For an eye, Svanhild;   a tooth for a tooth

              That's the last warbling you'll get from on high.

              I've ended the source of your   pretty faith .

              For what you've done to me, that's your reward!

 

SVAHILD:   What I've   done to...?  

 

FALK                                       Yes, you!   Until this hour

              My breast housed a songbird and from it poured

              Much fine melody.   But now, through your power,

              Only a death knell –

 

SVANILD:                            My power – ?

 

FALK:                                                          You've cast

              My firm faith in victory into the dust

              ( Scornfully)   By getting engaged!

 

SVANHILD                                                     Now, let me at least –

 

FALK:     Oh, for your part it makes sense, as I must

              Grant you.   He'll graduate soon; then, ripe for the taking,

              Waiting in America, a plump post as a priest.

 

SVANHILD (Taking up his tone):And then from his parents a bountiful 

              blessing

              Because it is Lind, we're speaking of?

 

FALK:                                                       You know best,

              I imagine

 

SVANHILD (Hiding a smile) Yes, as sister to the bride,

              I ought to –

 

FALK:                         Oh God!   It isn't you then!

 

SVANHILD                                                        It can't be denied

              That supreme joy's not mine.    I‘m not the one blest!

 

FALK: (With almost childlike happiness) :

              It isn't   you then!   Oh, praise God above!

              Kind-hearted God, then it was only a test!

              So I don't have to see her as another man's Love?

              No! You sent that to refine my spirit in pain –

              (Trying to seize her hand

              Then listen to me Svanhild –

 

SVANHILD (Pointing hastily   to the garden) :

                                                       Shh! - they're back here again!

!(She goes over towards the house.   At the same time, from the background, enter   MRS.HALM, MISS SKJAERE, GULDSTAD, STYVER and   LIND. During the previous scene the sun has set; the scene is in twilight.).

 

MRS HALM: (To SVANHILD):   Our priest will be coming here any time now.

              What's the matter with you?

 

MISS SKJAERE (After glancing at   FALK):   You seem flustered somehow.