Three Comedies by Bjornstjerne M. Bjornson

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Leonarda. But--

Aagot. But what? There is no more "but" about it, don't you
see! It is on your account.

Leonarda. On my account? Yes, but--what about you? How do you
stand--with Hagbart?

Aagot. Oh, that?--Well, I will tell you the whole story! I can do
that now.--Oh, don't take it all so seriously, aunt! It really is
nothing. But let us sit down. (Brings forward a seat, as she
speaks.) I really feel as if I wanted to sit down for a little
while, too!--Well, you see, it came upon me like an unexpected
attack--a blow from behind, as it were. Now, my dear aunt, don't
look so troubled. It is all over now. As a matter of fact, the
beginning of it all was a play I saw.

Leonarda. A play?

Aagot. We saw it together once, you and I, do you remember?
Scribe's Bataille de Dames.

Leonarda. Yes.

Aagot. And I remember thinking and saying to you: That fellow
Henri, in the play, was a stupid fellow. He had the choice
between a strong-natured, handsome, spirited woman, who was ready
to give her life for him, and a child who was really a stupid
little thing--for she was, it is no use denying it, aunt--and he
chose the insignificant little person. No, I would rather sit
down here; I can rest better so. Ah, that is good! And now you
mustn't look me in the face oftener than I want to let you,
because you take it too dreadfully solemnly, and I am going to
tell you something foolish now.--All of a sudden it flashed
across my mind: Good heavens! the woman was--,and the little
hussy with the curly hair was--,and he? But Hagbart is a man of
some sense: he had chosen otherwise! And I did not know; but I
realised at the same time that almost from the first day Hagbart
used always to talk to you, and only to you, and hardly at all to
me except to talk about you. I got so miserable about it that I
felt as if some one had put a knife into my heart; and from that
moment--I am so ashamed of it now--I had no more peace. I carried
an aching pain in my heart night and day, and I thought my heart
itself would break merely to see him speak to you or you to him.
I am ashamed of myself; because what was more natural than that
he should never be tired of talking to you? I never should,
myself!

Leonarda. But still I don't see--I don't understand yet--

Aagot. Wait a bit! Oh, don't look so anxiously at me! It is all
over now, you know.

Leonarda. What is all over?

Aagot. Bless my soul, wait! Aunt, dear, you are more impatient
than I am myself! I do not want you to think me worse than I am,
so I must first tell you how I fought with myself. I lay and
cried all night, because I could not talk to you about it, and in
the daytime I forced myself to seem merry and lively and happy.
And then, aunt, one day I said to myself quite honestly: Why
should you feel aggrieved at his loving her more than you? What
are you, compared with her? And how splendid it would be, I
thought, for my dear aunt to find some one she could truly love,
and that it should be I that had brought them together!

Leonarda. That was splendid of you, Aagot!

Aagot. Yes, but now I mustn't make myself out better than I am,
either. Because I did not always manage to look at it that way;
very often something very like a sob kept rising in my throat.
But then I used to talk to myself seriously, and say: Even
supposing it is your own happiness you are giving up for her
sake, is that too much for you to do for her? No, a thousand
times no! And even supposing he does not love you any more, ought
you not to be able to conquer your own feelings? Surely it would
be cowardly not to be able to do that! Think no more of him, if
he does not love you!

Leonarda. Aagot, I cannot tell you how I admire you, and love
you, and how proud I am of you!

Aagot. Oh, aunt, I never realised as I did then what you have
been to me! I knew that if I were capable of any great deed,
anything really good or really fine, it was you that had planted
the impulse in me. And then I sought every opportunity to bring
this about; I wanted to take ever so humble a part in it, but
without your hearing a word or a sigh from me. Besides, I had you
always before me as an example; because I knew that you would
have done it for me--indeed that you had already done as much.
Your example was like a shining beacon to me, aunt!

Leonarda. Aagot!

Aagot. But you don't seem to be as happy about it as I am! Don't
you understand yet how it all happened?

Leonarda. Yes, but--about the result of it?

Aagot. Dearest, you know all about that!--No, it is true, you
don't! I must not forget to tell you that; otherwise you won't be
able to understand why I behaved so stupidly at the Bishop's.

Leonarda. No.

Aagot. Well, you see, when I was full of this splendid
determination to sacrifice myself so as to make you happy, I used
to feel a regular fury come over me because Hagbart noticed no
change in me--or, to be more correct, did not understand it in
the least. He used to go about as if he were in a dream. Isn't it
extraordinary how one thing leads to another? My feeling was
stronger than I had any idea of; because when the Bishop wanted
to slight you--and that was like a stab from behind, too!--I
absolutely lost my head with Hagbart because of his not having
prevented that, instead of going about dreaming. I don't know--
but--well, you saw yourself what happened. I blurted out the
first thing that came into my head and was abominably rude; you
were angry; then we made friends again and I went away--and then,
aunt--

Leonarda. And then--?

Aagot. Then I thought it all over! All the beautiful things you
said to me about him, as we were going home, came back to me more
and more forcibly. I saw you as I had always known you, noble
and gentle.--It was so wonderful up there, too! The air, the
clearness, the sense of space! And the lake, almost always calm,
because it was so sheltered! And the wonderful stillness,
especially in the evening!--And so it healed, just as a wound
heals.

Leonarda. What healed?

Aagot. The pain in my heart, aunt. All the difficulties vanished.
I know Hagbart to be what you said--noble and true. And you too,
aunt! You would neither of you have wished to give me a moment's
pain, even unconsciously, I knew. It was so good to realise that!
It was so restful, that often while I was thinking of it, I went
to sleep where I sat--I was so happy!--Ah, how I love him! And
then came grandmother's letter--.

[HANS comes in, but does not see AAGOT at first.]

Hans. Then I am to fetch Miss Aagot--why, there she is!

Aagot (getting up). You quite frightened me, Hans!

Hans. Welcome back, miss!

Aagot. Thank you.

Hans. Well, you have saved me a journey, miss, I suppose?

Aagot. Yes. But someone must go and fetch my things.

Hans. Of course, miss.--But what is the matter with the mistress?

Aagot. Aunt!--Heavens, what is the matter?

Hans. The mistress has not looked well lately.

Aagot. Hasn't she? Aunt, dear! Shall I--? Would you like to--?
Aunt!

Hans. Shall I fetch some one to--

Leonarda. No, no!--But you, Aagot--will you-. Oh, my God!--Will
you run in--and get--

Aagot. Your bottle of drops?

Leonarda. Yes. (AAGOT runs out.) Hans, go as quickly as you can
to the General's--ask him to come here! At once!

Hans. Yes, ma'am.

Leonarda. Hans!

Hans. Yes, ma'am.

Leonarda. Go on horseback. You may not find the General at home--
and have to go elsewhere after him.

Hans. Yes, ma'am. (Goes out. AAGOT re-enters.)

Aagot. Here it is, aunt!

Leonarda. Thank you. It is over now.

Aagot. But what was it, aunt?

Leonarda. It was something, dear--something that comes over one
sometimes at the change of the year.

[Curtain.]

(The interval between this act and the next should be very short.)

ACT IV

(SCENE.--A room in the BISHOP'S house, the same evening. The
lights are lit. The BISHOP comes in with LEONARDA, who is in
travelling dress, with a shawl over her arm and a bag in her
hand. The BISHOP makes a movement as though to relieve her of
them, but she puts them down herself.)

Leonarda. Your lordship must excuse me for troubling you so late
as this; but the reason of it is something over which I have no
control.---Is your nephew here?

Bishop. No, but I expect him. He has been here twice this
afternoon already to see me, but I was out.

Leonarda. I will make haste then, and do what I have to do
before he comes.

Bishop. Shall I give instructions that we are to be told when he
comes in?

Leonarda. If you please.

Bishop (ringing the bell). Grandmother says that as soon as he
came back to-day, he went at once to see you.

Leonarda. Yes.

[Enter a Maid.]

Bishop (to the Maid). Be so good as to let me know when Mr.
Hagbart comes in. (Exit Maid.)

Leonarda. Has he had a talk with his grandmother?

Bishop. Yes.

Leonarda. After he--? (Checks herself.)

Bishop. After he had been to see you.

Leonarda. Did he tell her anything?

Bishop. He was very much agitated, apparently. I did not ask
grandmother any further questions; I can imagine what passed
between them.--Has he spoken to you?

Leonarda. Yes.

Bishop. And you, Mrs. Falk?

Leonarda. I--? Well, I am here.

Bishop. Going on a journey, if I am not mistaken?

Leonarda. Going on a journey. Things are turning out as you
wished after all, my lord.

Bishop. And he is to know nothing about it?

Leonarda. No one--except the person who will accompany me. I am
sailing for England by to-night's boat.

Bishop (looking at his watch). You haven't much time, then.

Leonarda. I only want to entrust to your lordship a deed of gift
of my property here.

Bishop. In favour of your niece?

Leonarda. Yes, for Aagot. She shall have everything.

Bishop. But last time, Mrs. Falk, you said--

Leonarda. Oh, I have enough for my journey. Later on I shall want
nothing; I can provide for myself.

Bishop. But what about Aagot? Will you not wait until she comes
home?

Leonarda. She came home to-day. She is resting now. But I have
sent back my carriage to bring her here immediately. I want to
ask you to take her in--I know no one else--and to comfort her--

Bishop. Indeed I will, Mrs. Falk. I understand what this must
cost you.

Leonarda. And will you try--to--to bring those two together again?

Bishop. But they don't love each other!

Leonarda. Aagot loves him. And--as they both love me--my idea
was that when I am gone, and they know that it was my wish, the
love they both have for me may bring them together again. I hope
so--they are both so young.

Bishop. I will do all I can.

Leonarda. Thank you. And I want to make bold to beg you to let
grandmother go and live in the country with Aagot--or let Aagot
come and live here, whichever they prefer. It would divert
Aagot's mind if she had the care of grandmother; and she is very
fond of her.

Bishop. And grandmother of her.

Leonarda. And wherever the grandmother is, Hagbart will be
too. Very likely the old lady would help them.

Bishop. I think your idea is an excellent one; and I am amazed
that you have had time and strength to think it all out in this
manner.

Leonarda. Is grandmother still up?

Bishop. Yes; I have just come from her room. Hagbart has excited
her; she can stand so little.

Leonarda. Then I expect I had better not go and bid her good-bye.
I should have liked to, otherwise.

Bishop. I don't think I ought to allow it.

Leonarda. Then please say good-bye to her from me--and thank her.

Bishop. I will.

Leonarda. And ask her--to help--

Bishop. I will do everything I possibly can.

Leonarda. And your lordship must forgive me for all the upset I
have caused here. I did not intend it.

Bishop. I am only sorry that I did not know you sooner. Many
things might have been different.

Leonarda. We won't talk about that now.

[Enter Maid.]

Maid. I was asked to bring you this card, ma'am.

Leonarda. Thank you. Is the General in the hall?

Maid. Yes.

Bishop. General Rosen--here?

Leonarda. I took the liberty of asking him to call for me here
when the boat was signalled.

Bishop. Ask the General to come in. (Exit Maid.) Then it is
General Rosen that is to--. (Checks himself.)

Leonarda (searching in her bag). --that is to accompany me? He is
my husband.

Bishop. The husband you divorced.

Leonarda. Yes.

Bishop. I see I have done you a great injustice, Mrs. Falk.

Leonarda. Yes. (GENERAL ROSEN comes in, dressed in a smart
travelling suit and looking very spruce.)

General Rosen. I beg your lordship's pardon--but, time is up.--
Mrs. Falk, is this yours? (Gives her a letter.)

Leonarda. Yes.--When Aagot comes, will your lordship give her
this?--and help her?

Bishop. I will, Mrs. Falk. God bless you!

[Enter Maid.]

Maid. Mr. Hagbart has just come in.

Leonarda. Good-bye!--Say good-bye to--

Bishop (taking her hand). What you are doing is more than any one
of us could have done.

Leonarda. It all depends on how deeply one loves.--Thank you, and
good-bye!

Bishop. Good-bye! (GENERAL ROSEN offers LEONARDA his arm. She
takes it, and they go out. The BISHOP follows them. HAGBART comes
in from the right, looks round in astonishment, then goes towards
the back of the room and meets the BISHOP in the doorway.)

Bishop. Is that you? (Both come forward without speaking.)

Hagbart (in a low voice, but evidently under the influence of
great emotion). I can tell by your voice--and your face--that you
know about it.

Bishop. You mean that you think I have had a talk with
grandmother?

Hagbart. Yes.

Bishop. Well, I have. She told me nothing definite, but I see how
things stand. I saw that sooner than you did yourself, you know.

Hagbart. That is true. The fight is over now, as far as I am
concerned.

Bishop. Scarcely that, Hagbart.

Hagbart. Oh, you won't admit it, I know. But I call it the most
decisive victory of my life. I love Mrs. Falk--and she loves me.

Bishop. If you were not in such an excited condition--

Hagbart. It is not excitement, it is happiness. But here, with
you--oh, I have not come to ask for your blessing; we must do
without that! But I have come to tell you the fact, because it
was my duty to do so.--Does it grieve you so much?

Bishop. Yes.

Hagbart. Uncle, I feel hurt at that.

Bishop. My boy--!

Hagbart. I feel hurt both on her account and on my own. It shows
that you know neither of us.

Bishop. Let us sit down and talk quietly, Hagbart.

Hagbart. I must ask you to make no attempt to persuade me to
alter my decision.

Bishop. Make your mind easy on that score. Your feelings do you
honour--and I know now that she is worthy of them.

Hagbart. What--do you say that? (They sit down.)

Bishop. My dear Hagbart, let me tell you this at once. I have
gone through an experience, too, since the last time we met. And
it has taught me that I had no right to treat Mrs. Falk as I did.

Hagbart. Is it possible?

Bishop. I judged her both too quickly and too harshly. That is
one of our besetting sins. And I have paid too much heed to the
opinion of others, and too little to the charity that should give
us courage to do good. She, whom I despised, has taught me that.

Hagbart. You do not know how grateful and how happy you have made
me by saying that!

Bishop. I have something more to say. At the time we held that
unjust opinion of her, we misled you--for you relied on our
opinion then--until you ended by sharing our views and being even
more vehement in the matter than we, as young people will. That
created a reaction in you, which in the end led to love. If that
love had been a sin, we should have been to blame for it.

Hagbart. Is it a sin, then?

Bishop. No. But when you felt that we were inclined to look upon
it in that light, that very fact stirred up your sense of justice
and increased your love. You have a noble heart.

Hagbart. Ah, how I shall love you after this, uncle!

Bishop. And that is why I wanted you to sit down here just now,
Hagbart--to beg your pardon--and hers. And my congregation's,
too. It is my duty to guide them, but I was not willing to trust
them enough. By far the greater number among them are good
people; they would have followed me if I had had the courage to
go forward.

Hagbart. Uncle, I admire and revere you more than I have ever
done before--more than any one has ever done!

Bishop (getting up). My dear boy!

Hagbart (throwing himself into his arms). Uncle!

Bishop. Is your love strong enough to bear--

Hagbart. Anything!

Bishop. Because sometimes love is given to us to teach us self-sacrifice.

[The GRANDMOTHER comes in.]

Grandmother. I heard Hagbart's voice.

Hagbart. Grandmother! (He and the BISHOP go to help her.)
Grandmother! You don't know how happy I am! (Takes her by the
arm.)

Grandmother. Is that true?

Bishop (taking her other arm). You should not walk about without
help.

Grandmother. I heard Hagbart's voice. He was talking so loud,
that I thought something had happened.

Hagbart. So it has--something good! Uncle consents! He is
splendid! He has made everything all right again, and better than
ever! Oh, grandmother, I wish you were not so old! I feel as if I
should like to take you up in my arms and dance you round the
room.

Grandmother. You mustn't do that, my dear. (They put her into her
chair.) Now! What is your last bit of news?

Hagbart. My last bit of news? I have no fresh news! There is
nothing more to tell!

Bishop. Yes, Hagbart, there is.

Hagbart. Why do you say that so seriously?--You look so serious--
and seem agitated! Uncle! (The noise of wheels is heard outside.)

Bishop. Wait a little, my dear boy. Wait a little! (Goes out by
the door at the back.)

Hagbart. Grandmother, what can it be?

Grandmother. I don't know.--But happiness is often so brief.

Hagbart. Happiness so brief? What do you mean?--Good God,
grandmother, don't torture me!

Grandmother. I assure you, I know nothing about it--only--

Hagbart. Only--what?

Grandmother. While your uncle was with me, Mrs. Falk was
announced.

Hagbart. Mrs. Falk? Has she been here? Just now?

Grandmother. Yes, just now.

Hagbart. Then something must have happened! Perhaps it was
she that uncle--. (Rushes to the door, which opens, and the
BISHOP comes in with AAGOT on his arm, followed by CORNELIA.)
Aagot!

Aagot. Hagbart!-- (Anxiously.) Is aunt not here!

Cornelia. What, grandmother here! (Goes to her.)

Bishop. My dear Aagot, your aunt entrusted this letter to me to
give to you.

Hagbart. A letter--?

Grandmother. What is the matter? Let me see! (CORNELIA moves
her chair nearer to the others.)

Hagbart. Read it aloud, Aagot!

Aagot (reads). "My darling. When you receive this letter I shall
have--gone away. I love the man you--." (With a cry, she falls
swooning. The BISHOP catches her in his arms.)

Grandmother. She has gone away?

Cornelia. She loves the man you--? Good God, look at Hagbart!

Bishop. Cornelia! (She goes to him, and they lay AAGOT on the
couch. CORNELIA stays beside her. The BISHOP turns to HAGBART.)
Hagbart! (HAGBART throws himself into his arms.) Courage!
Courage, my boy!

Grandmother (getting up). It is like going back to the days of
great emotions!

[The Curtain falls slowly.]

A GAUNTLET

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

RIIS.
MRS. RIIS.
SVAVA, their daughter.
MARGIT, their maid.
CHRISTENSEN.
MRS. CHRISTENSEN.
ALFRED, their son, betrothed to Svava.
DR. NORDAN.
THOMAS, his servant.
HOFF.

The action of the play passes in Christiania.

ACT I

(SCENE.--A room in RIIS' house. An open door at the back leads
into a park and gives a glimpse of the sea beyond. Windows on
each side of the door. Doors also in the right and left walls.
Beyond the door on the right is a piano; opposite to the piano a
cupboard. In the foreground, to the right and left, two couches
with small tables in front of them. Easy-chairs and smaller
hairs scattered about. MRS. RIIS is sitting on the couch to the
left, and DR. NORDAN in a chair in the centre of the room. He is
wearing a straw hat pushed on to the back of his head, and has a
large handkerchief spread over his knees. He is sitting with his
arms folded, leaning upon his stick.)

Mrs. Riis. A penny for your thoughts!

Nordan. What was it you were asking me about?

Mrs. Riis. About that matter of Mrs. North, of course.

Nordan. That matter of Mrs. North? Well, I was talking to
Christensen about it just now. He has advanced the money and
is going to try and get the bank to suspend proceedings. I have
told you that already. What else do you want to know?

Mrs. Riis. I want to know how much gossip there is about it, my
dear friend.

Nordan. Oh, men don't gossip about each other's affairs.--By the
way, isn't our friend in there (nodding towards the door on the
right) going to be told about it? This seem, a good opportunity.

Mrs. Riis. Let us wait.

Nordan. Because Christensen will have to be repaid, you know. I
told him he would be.

Mrs. Riis. Naturally. What else would you suppose?

Nordan (getting up). Well, I am going away for my holidays, so
Christensen must look after it now.--Was it a very grand party
yesterday?

Mrs. Riis. There was not much display.

Nordan. No, the Christensens' parties are never very luxurious.
But I suppose there were a lot of people?

Mrs. Riis. I have never seen so many at a private entertainment.

Nordan. Is Svava up?

Mrs. Riis. She is out bathing.

Nordan. Already? Did you come home early, then?

Mrs. Riis. At about twelve, I think. Svava wanted to come home.
My husband was late, I think.

Nordan. The card tables. She looked radiant, I suppose, eh?

Mrs. Riis. Why didn't you come?

Nordan. I never go to betrothal parties, and I never go to
Weddings--never! I can't bear the sight of the poor victims in
their veils and wreaths.

Mrs. Riis. But, my dear doctor, you surely think--as we all do--
that this will be a happy marriage?

Nordan. He is a fine lad. But, all the same--I have been taken in
so often.--Oh, well!

Mrs. Riis. She was so happy, and is just as happy to-day.

Nordan. It is a pity I shall not see her. Good-bye, Mrs. Riis.

Mrs. Riis. Good-bye, doctor. Then you are off to-day?

Nordan. Yes, I need a change of air.

Mrs. Riis. Quite so. Well, I hope you will enjoy yourself--and,
many thanks for what you have done!

Nordan. It is I ought to thank you, my dear lady! I aim vexed not
to be able to say good-bye to Svava. (Goes out. MRS. RIIS takes
up a magazine from the table on the left and settles herself
comfortably on a couch from which she can see into the park.
During what follows she reads whenever opportunity allows. RIIS
comes in through the door to the right, in his shirt sleeves and
struggling with his collar.)

Riis. Good morning! Was that Nordan that went out just now?

Mrs. Riis. Yes. (RIIS crosses the room, then turns back and
disappears through the door on the right. He comes back again
immediately and goes through the same proceeding, all the tine
busy with his collar.) Can I help you at all?

Riis. No--thanks all the same! These new-fangled shirts are
troublesome things. I bought some in Paris.

Mrs. Riis. Yes, I believe you have bought a whole dozen.

Riis. A dozen and a half. (Goes into his room, comes out again in
apparently the same difficulties, and walks about as before.) As
a matter of fact I am wondering about something.

Mrs. Riis. It must be something complicated.

Riis. It is--it is. No doubt of it!--This collar is the very--Ah,
at last! (Goes into his room and comes out again, this time with
his necktie in his hand.) I have been wondering--wondering--what
our dear girl's character is made up of?

Mrs. Riis. What it is made up of?

Riis. Yes--what characteristics she gets from you and what from
me, and so forth. In what respects, that is to say, she takes
after your family, and in what respect after mine, and so forth.
Svava is a remarkable girl.

Mrs. Riis. She is that.

Riis. She is neither altogether you nor altogether me nor is she
exactly a compound of us both.

Mrs. Riis. Svava is something more than that.

Riis. A considerable deal more than that, too. (Disappears again;
then comes out with his coat on, brushing himself.) What did you
say?

Mrs. Riis. I did not speak.--I rather think it is my mother that
Svava is most like.

Riis. I should think so! Svava, with her quiet pleasant ways!
What a thing to say!

Mrs. Riis. Svava can be passionate enough.

Riis. Svava never forgets her manners as your mother did.

Mrs. Riis. You never understood mother. Still, no doubt they are
unlike in a great many things.

Riis. Absolutely!--Can you see now how right I was in chattering
to her in various languages from the beginning, even when she was
quite tiny? Can you see that now? You were opposed to my doing it.

Mrs. Riis. I was opposed to your perpetually plaguing the child,
and also to the endless jumping from one thing to another.

Riis. But look at the result, my dear! Look at the result!
(Begins to hum a tune.)

Mrs. Riis. You are surely never going to pretend that it is the
languages that have made her what she is?

Riis (as he disappears). No, not the languages; but--(His voice
is heard from within his room)--the language have done a
wonderful lot! She has savoir vivre--what? (Comes out again.)

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