 |
SOLNESS.
[Continues to look at her.] When I told you all this about the fire—h'm—
HILDA.
Well?
SOLNESS.
Was there not one special thought that you—that you seized upon?
HILDA.
[Reflects in vain.] No. What thought should that be?
SOLNESS.
[With subdued emphasis.] It was simply and solely by that fire that I was enabled to build homes for human beings. Cosy, comfortable, bright homes, where father and mother and the whole troop of children can live in safety and gladness, feeling what a happy thing it is to be alive in the world—and most of all to belong to each other—in great things and in small.
HILDA.
[Ardently.] Well, and is it not a great happiness for you to be able to build such beautiful homes?
SOLNESS.
The price, Hilda! The terrible price I had to pay for the opportunity!
HILDA.
But can you never get over that?
SOLNESS.
No. That I might build homes for others, I had to forego—to forego for all time—the home that might have been my own. I mean a home for a troop of children—and for father and mother, too.
HILDA.
[Cautiously.] But need you have done that? For all time, you say?
SOLNESS.
[Nods slowly.] That was the price of this happiness that people talk about. [Breathes heavily.] This happiness—h'm—this happiness was not to be bought any cheaper, Hilda.
HILDA.
[As before.] But may it not come right even yet?
SOLNESS.
Never in this world—never. That is another consequence of the fire—and of Aline's illness afterwards.
HILDA.
[Looks at him with an indefinable expression.] And yet you build all these nurseries.
SOLNESS.
[Seriously.] Have you never noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it seems to beckon and cry aloud to one?
HILDA.
[Reflecting.] The impossible? [With animation.] Yes, indeed! Is that how you feel too?
SOLNESS.
Yes, I do.
HILDA.
Then there must be—a little of the troll in you too.
SOLNESS.
Why of the troll?
HILDA.
What would you call it, then?
SOLNESS.
[Rises.] Well, well, perhaps you are right. [Vehemently.] But how can I help turning into a troll, when this is how it always goes with me in everything—in everything!
HILDA.
How do you mean?
SOLNESS.
[Speaking low, with inward emotion.] Mark what I say to you, Hilda. All that I have succeeded in doing, building, creating—all the beauty, security, cheerful comfort—ay, and magnificence too—[Clenches his hands.] Oh, is it not terrible even to think of—?
HILDA.
What is so terrible?
SOLNESS.
That all this I have to make up for, to pay for—not in money, but in human happiness. And not with my own happiness only, but with other people's too. Yes, yes, do you see that, Hilda? That is the price which my position as an artist has cost me—and others. And every single day I have to look on while the price is paid for me anew. Over again, and over again—and over again for ever!
HILDA.
[Rises and looks steadily at him.] Now I can see that you are thinking of—of her.
SOLNESS.
Yes, mainly of Aline. For Aline—she, too, had her vocation in life, just as much as I had mine. [His voice quivers.] But her vocation has had to be stunted, and crushed, and shattered—in order that mine might force its way to—to a sort of great victory. For you must know that Aline—she, too, had a talent for building.
HILDA.
She! For building?
SOLNESS.
[Shakes his head.] Not houses and towers, and spires—not such things as I work away at—
HILDA.
Well, but what then?
SOLNESS.
[Softly, with emotion.] For building up the souls of little children, Hilda. For building up children's souls in perfect balance, and in noble and beautiful forms. For enabling them to soar up into erect and full-grown human souls. That was Aline's talent. And there it all lies now—unused and unusable for ever—of no earthly service to any one—just like the ruins left by a fire.
HILDA.
Yes, but even if this were so—?
SOLNESS.
It is so! It is so! I know it!
HILDA.
Well, but in any case it is not your fault.
SOLNESS.
[Fixes his eyes on her, and nods slowly.] Ah, that is the great, the terrible question. That is the doubt that is gnawing me—night and day.
HILDA.
That?
SOLNESS.
Yes. Suppose the fault was mine—in a certain sense.
HILDA.
Your fault! The fire!
SOLNESS.
All of it; the whole thing. And yet, perhaps—I may not have had anything to do with it.
HILDA.
[Looks at him with a troubled expression.] Oh, Mr. Solness—if you can talk like that, I am afraid you must be—ill after all.
SOLNESS.
H'm—I don't think I shall ever be of quite sound mind on that point.
RAGNAR BROVIK cautiously opens the little door in the left- hand corner. HILDA comes forward.
RAGNAR.
[When he sees Hilda.] Oh. I beg pardon, Mr. Solness—— [He makes a movement to withdraw.
SOLNESS.
No, no, don't go. Let us get it over.
RAGNAR.
Oh, yes—if only we could.
SOLNESS.
I hear your father is no better?
RAGNAR.
Father is fast growing weaker—and therefore I beg and implore you to write a few kind words for me on one of the plans! Something for father to read before he—
SOLNESS.
[Vehemently.] I won't hear anything more about those drawings of yours!
RAGNAR.
Have you looked at them?
SOLNESS.
Yes—I have.
RAGNAR.
And they are good for nothing? And I am good for nothing, too?
SOLNESS.
[Evasively.] Stay here with me, Ragnar. You shall have everything your own way. And then you can marry Kaia, and live at your ease—and happily too, who knows? Only don't think of building on your own account.
RAGNAR.
Well, well, then I must go home and tell father what you say—I promised I would.—Is this what I am to tell father—before he dies?
SOLNESS.
[With a groan.] Oh tell him—tell him what you will, for me. Best to say nothing at all to him! [With a sudden outburst.] I cannot do anything else, Ragnar!
RAGNAR.
May I have the drawings to take with me?
SOLNESS.
Yes, take them—take them by all means! They are lying there on the table.
RAGNAR.
[Goes to the table.] Thanks.
HILDA.
[Puts her hand on the portfolio.] No, no; leave them here.
SOLNESS.
Why?
HILDA.
Because I want to look at them, too.
SOLNESS.
But you have been—— [To RAGNAR.] Well, leave them here, then.
RAGNAR.
Very well.
SOLNESS.
And go home at once to your father.
RAGNAR.
Yes, I suppose I must.
SOLNESS.
[As if in desperation.] Ragnar—you must not ask me to do what is beyond my power! Do you hear, Ragnar? You must not!
RAGNAR.
No, no. I beg you pardon—
[He bows, and goes out by the corner door. HILDA goes over and sits down on a chair near the mirror.
HILDA.
[Looks angrily at SOLNESS.] That was a very ugly thing to do.
SOLNESS.
Do you think so, too?
HILDA.
Yes, it was horribly ugly—and hard and bad and cruel as well.
SOLNESS.
Oh, you don't understand my position.
HILDA.
No matter—. I say you ought not to be like that.
SOLNESS.
You said yourself, only just now, that no one but I ought to be allowed to build.
HILDA.
I may say such things—but you must not.
SOLNESS.
I most of all, surely, who have paid so dear for my position.
HILDA.
Oh yes—with what you call domestic comfort—and that sort of thing.
SOLNESS.
And with my peace of soul into the bargain.
HILDA.
[Rising.] Peace of soul! [With feeling.] Yes, yes, you are right in that! Poor Mr. Solness—you fancy that—
SOLNESS.
[With a quiet, chuckling laugh.] Just sit down again, Hilda, and I'll tell you something funny.
HILDA.
[Sits down; with intent interest.] Well?
SOLNESS.
It sounds such a ludicrous little thing; for, you see, the whole story turns upon nothing but a crack in the chimney.
HILDA.
No more than that?
SOLNESS.
No, not to begin with.
[He moves a chair nearer to HILDA and sits down.
HILDA.
[Impatiently, taps on her knee.] Well, now for the crack in the chimney!
SOLNESS.
I had noticed the split in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I went up into the attic, I looked to see if it was still there.
HILDA.
And it was?
SOLNESS.
Yes; for no one else knew about it.
HILDA.
And you said nothing?
SOLNESS.
Nothing.
HILDA.
And did not think of repairing the flue either?
SOLNESS.
Oh yes, I thought about it—but never got any further. Every time I intended to set to work, it seemed just as if a hand held me back. Not to-day, I thought—to-morrow; and nothing ever came of it.
HILDA.
But why did you keep putting it off like that?
SOLNESS.
Because I was revolving something in my mind. [Slowly, and in a low voice.] Through that little black crack in the chimney, I might, perhaps, force my way upwards—as a builder.
HILDA.
[Looking straight in front of her.] That must have been thrilling.
SOLNESS.
Almost irresistible—quite irresistible. For at that time it appeared to me a perfectly simple and straightforward matter. I would have had it happen in the winter-time—a little before midday. I was to be out driving Aline in the sleigh. The servants at home would have made huge fires in the stoves.
HILDA.
For, of course, it was to be bitterly cold that day?
SOLNESS.
Rather biting, yes—and they would want Aline to find it thoroughly snug and warm when she came home.
HILDA.
I suppose she is very chilly by nature?
SOLNESS.
She is. And as we drove home, we were to see the smoke.
HILDA.
Only the smoke?
SOLNESS.
The smoke first. But when we came up to the garden gate, the whole of the old timber-box was to be a rolling mass of flames.—That is how I wanted it to be, you see.
HILDA.
Oh, why, why could it not have happened so!
SOLNESS.
You may well say that, Hilda.
HILDA.
Well, but now listen, Mr. Solness. Are you perfectly certain that the fire was caused by that little crack in the chimney!
SOLNESS.
No, on the contrary—I am perfectly certain that the crack in the chimney had nothing whatever to do with the fire.
HILDA.
What!
SOLNESS.
It has been clearly ascertained that the fire broke out in a clothes-cupboard—in a totally different part of the house.
HILDA.
Then what is all this nonsense you are talking about the crack in the chimney!
SOLNESS.
May I go on talking to you a little, Hilda?
HILDA.
Yes, if you'll only talk sensibly—
SOLNESS.
I will try to. [He moves his chair nearer.
HILDA.
Out with it, then, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS.
[Confidentially.] Don't you agree with me, Hilda, that there exist special, chosen people who have been endowed with the power and faculty if desiring a thing, craving for a thing, willing a thing—so persistently and so—so inexorably—that at last it has to happen? Don't you believe that?
HILDA.
[With an indefinable expression in her eyes.] If that is so, we shall see, one of these days, whether I am one of the chosen.
SOLNESS.
It is not one's self alone that can do such great things. Oh, no—the helpers and the servers—they must do their part too, if it is to be of any good. But they never come of themselves. One has to call upon them very persistently—inwardly, you understand.
HILDA.
What are these helpers and servers?
SOLNESS.
Oh, we can talk about that some other time. For the present, let us keep to this business of the fire.
HILDA.
Don't you think that fire would have happened all the same—even without your wishing for it?
SOLNESS.
If the house had been old Knut Brovik's, it would never have burnt down so conveniently for him. I am sure of that; for he does not know how to call for the helpers—no, nor for the servers, either. [Rises in unrest.] So you see, Hilda—it is my fault, after all, that the lives of the two little boys had to be sacrificed. And do you think it is not my fault, too, that Aline has never been the woman she should and might have been—and that she most longed to be?
HILDA.
Yes, but if it is all the work of these helpers and servers—?
SOLNESS.
Who called for the helpers and servers? It was I! And they came and obeyed my will. [In increasing excitement.] That is what people call having the luck on your side; but I must tell you what this sort of luck feels like! It feels like a great raw place here on my breast. And the helpers and servers keep on flaying pieces of skin off other people in order to close my sore!—But still the sore is not healed—never, never! Oh, if you knew how it can sometimes gnaw and burn!
HILDA.
[Looks attentively at him.] You are ill, Mr. Solness. Very ill, I almost think.
SOLNESS.
Say mad; for that is what you mean.
HILDA.
No, I don't think there is much amiss with your intellect.
SOLNESS.
With what then? Out with it!
HILDA.
I wonder whether you were not sent into the world with a sickly conscience.
SOLNESS.
A sickly conscience? What devilry is that?
HILDA.
I mean that your conscience is feeble—too delicately built, as it were—hasn't strength to take a grip of things—to lift and bear what is heavy.
SOLNESS.
[Growls.] H'm! May I ask, then, what sort of a conscience one ought to have?
HILDA.
I should like your conscience to be—to be thoroughly robust.
SOLNESS.
Indeed? Robust, eh? Is your own conscience robust, may I ask?
HILDA.
Yes, I think it is. I have never noticed that it wasn't.
SOLNESS.
It has not been put very severely to the test, I should think.
HILDA.
[With a quivering of the lips.] Oh, it was no such simple matter to leave father—I am so awfully fond of him.
SOLNESS.
Dear me! for a month or two—
HILDA.
I think I shall never go home again.
SOLNESS.
Never? Then why did you leave him?
HILDA.
[Half-seriously, half-banteringly.] Have you forgotten again that the ten year are up?
SOLNESS.
Oh nonsense. Was anything wrong at home? Eh?
HILDA.
[Quite seriously.] It was this impulse within me that urged and goaded me to come—and lured and drew me on, as well.
SOLNESS.
[Eagerly.] There we have it! There we have it, Hilda! There is the troll in you too, as in me. For it's the troll in one, you see—it is that that calls to the powers outside us. And then you must give in—whether you will or no.
HILDA.
I almost think you are right, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS.
[Walks about the room.] Oh, there are devils innumerable abroad in the world, Hilda, that one never sees.
HILDA.
Devils, too?
SOLNESS.
[Stops.] Good devils and bad devils; light-haired devils and black-haired devils. If only you could always tell whether it is the light or dark ones that have got hold of you! [Paces about.] Ho-ho! Then it would be simple enough!
HILDA.
[Follows him with her eyes.] Or if one had a really vigorous, radiantly healthy conscience—so that one dared to do what one would.
SOLNESS.
[Stops beside the console table.] I believe, now, that most people are just as puny creatures as I am in that respect.
HILDA.
I shouldn't wonder.
SOLNESS.
[Leaning against the table.] In the sagas—. Have you read any of the old sagas?
HILDA.
Oh yes! When I used to read books, I—
SOLNESS.
In the sagas you read about vikings, who sailed to foreign lands, and plundered and burned and killed men—
HILDA.
And carried off women—
SOLNESS. —and kept them in captivity—
HILDA. —took them home in their ships—
SOLNESS. —and behaved to them like—like the very worst of trolls.
HILDA.
[Looks straight before her, with a half-veiled look.] I think that must have been thrilling.
SOLNESS.
[With a short, deep laugh.] To carry off women, eh?
HILDA.
To be carried off.
SOLNESS.
[Looks at her a moment.] Oh, indeed.
HILDA.
[As if breaking the thread of the conversation.] But what made you speak of these vikings, Mr. Solness?
SOLNESS.
Why, those fellows must have had robust consciences, if you like! When they got home again, they could eat and drink, and be as happy as children. And the women, too! They often would not leave them on any account. Can you understand that, Hilda?
HILDA.
Those women I can understand exceedingly well.
SOLNESS.
Oho! Perhaps you could do the same yourself?
HILDA.
Why not?
SOLNESS.
Live—of your own free will—with a ruffian like that?
HILDA.
If it was a ruffian I had come to love—
SOLNESS.
Could you come to love a man like that?
HILDA.
Good heavens, you know very well one can't choose whom one is going to love.
SOLNESS.
[Looks meditatively at her.] Oh no, I suppose it is the troll within one that's responsible for that.
HILDA.
[Half-laughing.] And all those blessed devils, that you know so well—both the light-haired and the dark-haired ones.
SOLNESS.
[Quietly and warmly.] Then I hope with all my heart that the devils will choose carefully for you, Hilda.
HILDA.
For me they have chosen already—once and for all.
SOLNESS.
[Looks earnestly at her.] Hilda—you are like a wild bird of the woods.
HILDA.
Far from it. I don't hide myself away under the bushes.
SOLNESS.
No, no. There is rather something of the bird of prey in you.
HILDA.
That is nearer it—perhaps. [Very vehemently.] And why not a bird of prey? Why should not I go a-hunting—I, as well as the rest? Carry off the prey I want—if only I can get my claws into it, and do with it as I will.
SOLNESS.
Hilda—do you know what you are?
HILDA.
Yes, I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.
SOLNESS.
No. You are like a dawning day. When I look at you—I seem to be looking towards the sunrise.
HILDA.
Tell me, Mr. Solness—are you certain that you have never called me to you? Inwardly, you know?
SOLNESS.
[Softly and slowly.] I almost think I must have.
HILDA.
What did you want with me?
SOLNESS.
You are the younger generation, Hilda.
HILDA.
[Smiles.] That younger generation that you are so afraid of?
SOLNESS.
[Nods slowly.] And which, in my heart, I yearn towards so deeply.
[HILDA rises, goes to the little table, and fetches RAGNAR BROVIK'S portfolio.
HILDA.
[Holds out the portfolio to him.] We were talking of these drawings—
SOLNESS.
[Shortly, waving them away.] Put those things away! I have seen enough of them.
HILDA.
Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.
SOLNESS.
Write my approval on them? Never!
HILDA.
But the poor old man is lying at death's door! Can't you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.
SOLNESS.
Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that—has my fine gentleman!
HILDA.
Then, good heavens—if that is so—can't you tell the least little bit of a lie for once in a way?
SOLNESS.
A lie? [Raging.] Hilda—take those devil's drawings out of my sight!
HILDA.
[Draws the portfolio a little nearer to herself.] Well, well, well—don't bite me.—You talk of trolls—but I think you go on like a troll yourself. [Looks round.] Where do you keep your pen and ink?
SOLNESS.
There is nothing of the sort in here.
HILDA.
[Goes towards the door.] But in the office where that young lady is—
SOLNESS.
Stay where you are, Hilda!—I ought to tell a lie, you say. Oh yes, for the sake of his old father I might well do that—for in my time I have crushed him, trodden him under foot—
HILDA.
Him, too?
SOLNESS.
I needed room for myself. But this Ragnar—he must on no account be allowed to come to the front.
HILDA.
Poor fellow, there is surely no fear of that. If he has nothing in him—
SOLNESS.
[Comes closer, looks at her, and whispers.] If Ragnar Brovik gets his chance, he will strike me to the earth. Crush me—as I crushed his father.
HILDA.
Crush you? Has he the ability for that?
SOLNESS.
Yes, you may depend upon it he has the ability! He is the younger generation that stands ready to knock at my door—to make an end of Halvard Solness.
HILDA.
[Looks at him with quiet reproach.] And yet you would bar him out. Fie, Mr. Solness!
SOLNESS.
The fight I have been fighting has cost heart's blood enough.—And I am afraid, too, that the helpers and servers will not obey me any longer.
HILDA.
Then you must go ahead without them. There is nothing else for it.
SOLNESS.
It is hopeless, Hilda. The luck is bound to turn. A little sooner or a little later. Retribution is inexorable.
HILDA.
[In distress, putting her hands over her ears.] Don't talk like that! Do you want to kill me? To take from me what is more than my life?
SOLNESS.
And what is that?
HILDA.
The longing to see you great. To see you, with a wreath in your hand, high, high up upon a church-tower. [Calm again.] Come, out with your pencil now. You must have a pencil about you?
SOLNESS.
[Takes out his pocket-book.] I have one here.
HILDA.
[Lays the portfolio on the sofa-table.] Very well. Now let us two sit down here, Mr. Solness. [SOLNESS seats himself at the table. HILDA stands behind him, leaning over the back of the chair.] And now we well write on the drawings. We must write very, very nicely and cordially—for this horrid Ruar—or whatever his name is.
SOLNESS.
[Writes a few words, turns his head and looks at her.] Tell me one thing, Hilda.
HILDA.
Yes!
SOLNESS.
If you have been waiting for me all these ten years—
HILDA.
What then?
SOLNESS.
Why have you never written to me? Then I could have answered you.
HILDA.
[Hastily.] No, no, no! That was just what I did not want.
SOLNESS.
Why not?
HILDA.
I was afraid the whole thing might fall to pieces.—But we were going to write on the drawings, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS.
So we were.
HILDA.
[Bends forward and looks over his shoulder while he writes.] Mind now, kindly and cordially! Oh how I hate—how I hate this Ruald—
SOLNESS.
[Writing.] Have you never really cared for any one, Hilda?
HILDA.
For any one else, I suppose you mean?
SOLNESS.
[Looks up at her.] For any one else, yes. Have you never? In all these ten years? Never?
HILDA.
Oh yes, now and then. When I was perfectly furious with you for not coming.
SOLNESS.
Then you did take an interest in other people, too?
HILDA.
A little bit—for a week or so. Good heavens, Mr. Solness, you surely know how such things come about.
SOLNESS.
Hilda—what is it you have come for?
HILDA.
Don't waste time talking. The poor old man might go and die in the meantime.
SOLNESS.
Answer me, Hilda. What do you want of me?
HILDA.
I want my kingdom.
SOLNESS.
H'm—
He gives a rapid glance toward the door on the left, and then goes on writing on the drawings. At the same moment MRS. SOLNESS enters.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Here are a few things I have got for you, Miss Wangel. The large parcels will be sent later on.
HILDA.
Oh, how very, very kind of you!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Only my simple duty. Nothing more than that.
SOLNESS.
[Reading over what he has written.] Aline!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes?
SOLNESS.
Did you notice whether the—the book-keeper was out there?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, of course, she was there.
SOLNESS.
[Puts the drawings in the portfolio.] H'm—
MRS. SOLNESS.
She was standing at the desk, as she always is—when I go through the room.
SOLNESS.
[Rises.] Then I'll give this to her and tell her that—
HILDA.
[Takes the portfolio from him.] Oh, no, let me have the pleasure of doing that! [Goes to the door, but turns.] What is her name?
SOLNESS.
Her name is Miss Fosli.
HILDA.
Pooh, that sounds so cold! Her Christian name, I mean?
SOLNESS.
Kaia—I believe.
HILDA.
[Opens the door and calls out.] Kaia, come in here! Make haste! Mr. Solness wants to speak to you.
KAIA FOSLI appears at the door.
KAIA.
[Looking at him in alarm.] Here I am—?
HILDA.
[Handing her the portfolio.] See her, Kaia! You can take this home; Mr. Solness was written on them now.
KAIA.
Oh, at last!
SOLNESS.
Give them to the old man as soon as you can.
KAIA.
I will go straight home with them.
SOLNESS.
Yes, do. Now Ragnar will have a chance of building for himself.
KAIA.
Oh, may he come and thank you for all—?
SOLNESS.
[Harshly.] I won't have any thanks! Tell him that from me.
KAIA.
Yes, I will—
SOLNESS.
And tell him at the same time that henceforward I do not require his services—nor yours either.
KAIA.
[Softly and quiveringly.] Not mine either?
SOLNESS.
You will have other things to think of now, and to attend to; and that is a very good thing for you. Well, go home with the drawings now, Miss Fosli. At once! Do you hear?
KAIA.
[As before.] Yes, Mr. Solness. [She goes out.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Heavens! what deceitful eyes she has.
SOLNESS.
She? That poor little creature?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh—I can see what I can see, Halvard.——Are you really dismissing them?
SOLNESS.
Yes.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Her as well?
SOLNESS.
Was not that what you wished?
MRS. SOLNESS.
But how can you get on without her—? Oh well, no doubt you have some one else in reserve, Halvard.
HILDA.
[Playfully.] Well, I for one am not the person to stand at a desk.
SOLNESS.
Never mind, never mind—it will be all right, Aline. Now all you have to do is think about moving into our new home—as quickly as you can. This evening we will hang up the wreath—[Turns to HILDA.] What do you say to that, Miss Hilda?
HILDA.
[Looks at him with sparkling eyes.] It will be splendid to see you so high up once more.
SOLNESS.
Me!
MRS. SOLNESS.
For Heaven's sake, Miss Wangel, don't imagine such a thing! My husband!—when he always gets so dizzy!
HILDA.
He get dizzy! No, I know quite well he does not!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh yes, indeed he does.
HILDA.
But I have seen him with my own eyes right up at the top of a high church-tower!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, I hear people talk of that; but it is utterly impossible—
SOLNESS.
[Vehemently.] Impossible—impossible, yes! But there I stood all the same!
MRS. SOLNESS.
O, how can you say so, Halvard? Why, you can't even bear to go out on the second-storey balcony here. You have always been like that.
SOLNESS.
You may perhaps see something different this evening.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[In alarm.] No, no, no! Please God I shall never see that. I will write at once to the doctor—and I am sure he won't let you do it.
SOLNESS.
Why, Aline—!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, you know you're ill, Halvard. This proves it! Oh God—Oh God!
[She goes hastily out to the right.
HILDA.
[Looks intently at him.] Is it so, or is it not?
SOLNESS.
That I turn dizzy?
HILDA.
That my master builder dares not—cannot—climb as high as he builds?
SOLNESS.
Is that the way you look at it?
HILDA.
Yes.
SOLNESS.
I believe there is scarcely a corner in me that is safe from you.
HILDA.
[Looks towards the bow-window.] Up there, then. Right up there—
SOLNESS.
[Approaches her.] You might have the topmost room in the tower, Hilda—there you might live like a princess.
HILDA.
[Indefinably, between earnest and jest.] Yes, that is what you promised me.
SOLNESS.
Did I really?
HILDA.
Fie, Mr. Solness! You said I should be a princess, and that you would give me a kingdom. And then you went and—Well!
SOLNESS.
[Cautiously.] Are you quite certain that this is not a dream—a fancy, that has fixed itself in your mind?
HILDA.
[Sharply.] Do you mean that you did not do it?
SOLNESS.
I scarcely know myself. [More softly.] But now I know so much for certain, that I—
HILDA.
That you—? Say it at once!
SOLNESS. —that I ought to have done it.
HILDA.
[Exclaims with animation.] Don't tell me you can ever be dizzy!
SOLNESS.
This evening, then, we will hang up the wreath—Princess Hilda.
HILDA.
[With a bitter curve of the lips.] Over your new home, yes.
SOLNESS.
Over the new house, which will never be a home for me.
[He goes out through the garden door.
HILDA.
[Looks straight in front of her with a far-away expression, and whispers to herself. The only words audible are:]—frightfully thrilling—
ACT THIRD.
The large broad verandah of SOLNESS'S dwelling-house. Part of the house, with outer door leading to the verandah, is seen to the left. A railing along the verandah to the right. At the back, from the end of the verandah, a flight of steps leads down to the garden below. Tall old trees in the garden spread their branches over the verandah and towards the house. Far to the right, in among the trees, a glimpse is caught of the lower part of the new villa, with scaffolding round so much as is seen of the tower. In the background the garden is bounded by an old wooden fence. Outside the fence, a street with low, tumble-down cottages.
Evening sky with sun-lit clouds.
On the verandah, a garden bench stands along the wall of the house, and in front of the bench a long table. On the other side of the table, an arm-chair and some stools. All the furniture is of wicker-work.
MRS. SOLNESS, wrapped in a large white crepe shawl, sits resting in the arm-chair and gazes over to the right. Shortly after, HILDA WANGEL comes up the flight of steps from the garden. She is dressed as in the last act, and wears her hat. She has in her bodice a little nosegay of small common flowers.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Turning her head a little.] Have you been round the garden, Miss Wangel?
HILDA.
Yes, I have been taking a look at it.
MRS. SOLNESS.
And found some flowers too, I see.
HILDA.
Yes, indeed! There are such heaps of them in among the bushes.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Are there, really? Still? You see I scarcely ever go there.
HILDA.
[Closer.] What! Don't you take a run down into the garden every day, then?
MRS. SOLNESS.
[With a faint smile.] I don't "run" anywhere, nowadays.
HILDA.
Well, but do you not go down now and then to look at all the lovely things there?
MRS. SOLNESS.
It has all become so strange to me. I am almost afraid to see it again.
HILDA.
Your own garden!
MRS. SOLNESS.
I don't feel that it is mine any longer.
HILDA.
What do you mean—?
MRS. SOLNESS.
No, no, it is not—not as it was in my mother's and father's time. They have taken away so much—so much of the garden, Miss Wangel. Fancy—they have parcelled it out—and built houses for strangers—people that I don't know. And they can sit and look in upon me from their windows.
HILDA.
[With a bright expression.] Mrs. Solness!
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes?
HILDA.
May I stay here with you a little?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, by all means, if you care to.
[HILDA moves a stool close to the arm-chair and sits down.
HILDA.
Ah—here one can sit and sun oneself like a cat.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Lays her hand softly on HILDA'S neck.] It is nice of you to be willing to sit with me. I thought you wanted to go in to my husband.
HILDA.
What should I want with him?
MRS. SOLNESS.
To help him, I thought.
HILDA.
No, thank you. And besides, he is not in. He is over there with his workmen. But he looked so fierce that I did not dare to talk to him.
MRS. SOLNESS.
He is so kind and gentle in reality.
HILDA.
He!
MRS. SOLNESS.
You do not really know him yet, Miss Wangel.
HILDA.
[Looks affectionately at her.] Are you pleased at the thought of moving over to the new house?
MRS. SOLNESS.
I ought to be pleased; for it is what Halvard wants—
HILDA.
Oh, not just on that account, surely?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, yes, Miss Wangel; for it is only my duty to submit myself to him. But very often it is dreadfully difficult to force one's mind to obedience.
HILDA.
Yes, that must be difficult indeed.
MRS. SOLNESS.
I can tell you it is—when one has so many faults as I have—
HILDA.
When one has gone through so much trouble as you have—
MRS. SOLNESS.
How do you know about that?
HILDA.
Your husband told me.
MRS. SOLNESS.
To me he very seldom mentions these things.—Yes, I can tell you I have gone through more than enough trouble in my life, Miss Wangel.
HILDA.
[Looks sympathetically at her and nods slowly.] Poor Mrs. Solness. First of all there was the fire—
MRS. SOLNESS.
[With a sigh.] Yes, everything that was mine was burnt.
HILDA.
And then came what was worse.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Looking inquiringly at her.] Worse?
HILDA.
The worst of all.
MRS. SOLNESS.
What do you mean?
HILDA.
[Softly.] You lost the two little boys.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, yes, the boys. But, you see, that was a thing apart. That was a dispensation of Providence; and in such things one can only bow in submission—yes, and be thankful, too.
HILDA.
Then you are so?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Not always, I am sorry to say. I know well enough that it is my duty—but all the same I cannot.
HILDA.
No, no, I think that is only natural.
MRS. SOLNESS.
And often and often I have to remind myself that it was a righteous punishment for me—
HILDA.
Why?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Because I had not fortitude enough in misfortune.
HILDA.
But I don't see that—
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, no, no, Miss Wangel—do not talk to me any more about the two little boys. We ought to feel nothing but joy in thinking of them; for they are so happy—so happy now. No, it is the small losses in life that cut one to the heart—the loss of all that other people look upon as almost nothing.
HILDA.
[Lays her arms on MRS. SOLNESS'S knees, and looks up at her affectionately.] Dear Mrs. Solness—tell me what things you mean!
MRS. SOLNESS.
As I say, only little things. All the old portraits were burnt on the walls. And all the old silk dresses were burnt, what had belonged to the family for generations and generations. And all mother's and grandmother's lace—that was burnt, too. And only think—the jewels, too! [Sadly.] And then all the dolls.
HILDA.
The dolls?
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Choking with tears.] I had nine lovely dolls.
HILDA.
And they were burnt too?
MRS. SOLNESS.
All of them. Oh, it was hard—so hard for me.
HILDA.
Had you put by all these dolls, then? Ever since you were little?
MRS. SOLNESS.
I had not put them by. The dolls and I had gone on living together.
HILDA.
After you were grown up?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, long after that.
HILDA.
After you were married, too?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh yes, indeed. So long as he did not see it—. But they were all burnt up, poor things. No one thought of saving them. Oh, it is so miserable to think of. You mustn't laugh at me, Miss Wangel.
HILDA.
I am not laughing in the least.
MRS. SOLNESS.
For you see, in a certain sense, there was life in them, too. I carried them under my heart—like little unborn children.
DR. HERDAL, with his hat in his hand, comes out through the door, and observes MRS. SOLNESS. and HILDA.
DR. HERDAL.
Well, Mrs. Solness, so you are sitting out here catching cold?
MRS. SOLNESS.
I find it so pleasant and warm here to-day.
DR. HERDAL.
Yes, yes. But is there anything going on here? I got a note from you.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Rises.] Yes, there is something I must talk to you about.
DR. HERDAL.
Very well; then perhaps we better go in. [To HILDA.] Still in your mountaineering dress, Miss Wangel?
HILDA.
[Gaily, rising.] Yes—in full uniform! But to-day I am not going climbing and breaking my neck. We two will stop quietly below and look on, doctor.
DR. HERDAL.
What are we to look on at?
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Softly, in alarm, to HILDA.] Hush, hush—for God's sake! He is coming! Try to get that idea out of his head. And let us be friends, Miss Wangel. Don't you think we can?
HILDA.
[Throws her arms impetuously round MRS. SOLNESS'S neck.] Oh, if we only could!
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Gently disengages herself.] There, there, there! There he comes, doctor. Let me have a word with you.
DR. HERDAL.
Is it about him?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, to be sure it's about him. Do come in.
She and the doctor enter the house. Next moment SOLNESS comes up from the garden by the flight of steps. A serious look comes over HILDA'S face.
SOLNESS.
[Glances at the house-door, which is closed cautiously from within.] Have you noticed, Hilda, that as soon as I come, she goes?
HILDA.
I have noticed that as soon as you come, you make her go.
SOLNESS.
Perhaps so. But I cannot help it. [Looks observantly at her.] Are you cold, Hilda? I think you look cold.
HILDA.
I have just come up out of a tomb.
SOLNESS.
What do you mean by that?
HILDA.
That I have got chilled through and through, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS.
[Slowly.] I believe I understand—
HILDA.
What brings you up here just now?
SOLNESS.
I caught sight of you from over there.
HILDA.
But then you must have seen her too?
SOLNESS.
I knew she would go at once if I came.
HILDA.
Is it very painful for you that she should avoid you in this way?
SOLNESS.
In one sense, it's a relief as well.
HILDA.
Not to have her before your eyes?
SOLNESS.
Yes.
HILDA.
Not to be always seeing how heavily the loss of the little boys weighs upon her?
SOLNESS.
Yes. Chiefly that.
[HILDA drifts across the verandah with her hands behind her back, stops at the railing and looks out over the garden.
SOLNESS.
[After a short pause.] Did you have a long talk with her?
[HILDA stands motionless and does not answer.
SOLNESS.
Had you a long talk, I asked? [HILDA is silent as before.
SOLNESS.
What was she talking about, Hilda? [HILDA continues silent.
SOLNESS.
Poor Aline! I suppose it was about the little boys.
HILDA.
[A nervous shudder runs through her; then she nods hurriedly once or twice.
SOLNESS.
She will never get over it—never in this world. [Approaches her.] Now you are standing there again like a statue; just as you stood last night.
HILDA.
[Turns and looks at him, with great serious eyes.] I am going away.
SOLNESS.
[Sharply.] Going away!
HILDA.
Yes.
SOLNESS.
But I won't allow you to!
HILDA.
What am I to do here now?
SOLNESS.
Simply to be here, Hilda!
HILDA.
[Measures him with a look.] Oh, thank you. You know it wouldn't end there.
SOLNESS.
[Heedlessly.] So much the better!
HILDA.
[Vehemently.] I cannot do any harm to one whom I know! I can't take away anything that belongs to her.
SOLNESS.
Who wants you to do that?
HILDA.
[Continuing.] A stranger, yes! for that is quite a different thing! A person I have never set eyes on. But one that I have come into close contact with—! Oh no! Oh no! Ugh!
SOLNESS.
Yes, but I never proposed you should.
HILDA.
Oh, Mr. Solness, you know quite well what the end of it would be. And that is why I am going away.
SOLNESS.
And what is to become of me when you are gone? What shall I have to live for then?—After that?
HILDA.
[With the indefinable look in her eyes.] It is surely not so hard for you. You have your duties to her. Live for those duties.
SOLNESS.
Too late. These powers—these—these—
HILDA. —devils—
SOLNESS.
Yes, these devils! And the troll within me as well—they have drawn all the life-blood out of her. [Laughs in desperation.] They did it for my happiness! Yes, yes! [Sadly.] And now she is dead—for my sake. And I am chained alive to a dead woman. [In wild anguish.] I—I who cannot live without joy in life!
[HILDA moves round the table and seats herself on the bench, with her elbows on the table, and her head supported by her hands.
HILDA.
[Sits and looks at him awhile.] What will you build next?
SOLNESS.
[Shakes his head.] I don't believe I shall build much more.
HILDA.
Not those cosy, happy homes for mother and father, and for the troop of children?
SOLNESS.
I wonder whether there will be any use for such homes in the coming time.
HILDA.
Poor Mr. Solness! And you have gone all these ten years—and staked your whole life—on that alone.
SOLNESS.
Yes, you may well say so, Hilda.
HILDA.
[With an outburst.] Oh, it all seems to me so foolish—so foolish!
SOLNESS.
All what?
HILDA.
Not to be able to grasp at your own happiness—at your own life! Merely because some one you know happens to stand in the way!
SOLNESS.
One whom you have no right to set aside.
HILDA.
I wonder whether one really has not the right! And yet, and yet—. Oh! if one could only sleep the whole thing away!
[She lays her arms flat don on the table, rests the left side of her head on her hands, and shuts her eyes.
SOLNESS.
[Turns the arm-chair and sits down at the table.] Had you a cosy, happy home—up there with your father, Hilda?
HILDA.
[Without stirring, answers as if half asleep.] I had only a cage.
SOLNESS.
And you are determined not to go back to it?
HILDA.
[As before.] The wild bird never wants to go back to the cage.
SOLNESS.
Rather range through the free air—
HILDA.
[Still as before.] The bird of prey loves to range—
SOLNESS.
[Lets his eyes rest on her.] If only one had the viking-spirit in life—
HILDA.
[In her usual voice; opens her eyes but does not move.] And the other thing? Say what that was!
SOLNESS.
A robust conscience.
[HILDA sits erect on the bench, with animation. Her eyes have once more the sparkling expression of gladness.
HILDA.
[Nods to him.] I know what you are going to build next!
SOLNESS.
Then you know more than I do, Hilda.
HILDA.
Yes, builders are such stupid people.
SOLNESS.
What is it to be then?
HILDA.
[Nods again.] The castle.
SOLNESS.
What castle?
HILDA.
My castle, of course.
SOLNESS.
Do you want a castle now?
HILDA.
Don't you owe me a kingdom, I should like to know?
SOLNESS.
You say I do.
HILDA.
Well—you admit you owe me this kingdom. And you can't have a kingdom without a royal castle, I should think.
SOLNESS.
[More and more animated.] Yes, they usually go together.
HILDA.
Good! Then build it for me! This moment!
SOLNESS.
[Laughing.] Must you have that on the instant, too?
HILDA.
Yes, to be sure! For the ten years are up now, and I am not going to wait any longer. So—out with the castle, Mr. Solness!
SOLNESS.
It's no light matter to owe you anything, Hilda.
HILDA.
You should have thought of that before. It is too late now. So—[tapping the table]—the castle on the table! It is my castle! I will have it at once!
SOLNESS.
[More seriously, leans over towards her, with his arms on the table.] What sort of castle have you imagined, Hilda?
[Her expression becomes more and more veiled. She seems gazing inwards at herself.
HILDA.
[Slowly.] My castle shall stand on a height—on a very great height—with a clear outlook on all sides, so that I can see far—far around.
SOLNESS.
And no doubt it is to have a high tower!
HILDA.
A tremendously high tower. And at the very top of the tower there shall be a balcony. And I will stand out upon it—
SOLNESS.
[Involuntarily clutches at his forehead.] How can you like to stand at such a dizzy height—?
HILDA.
Yes, I will! Right up there will I stand and look down on the other people—on those that are building churches, and homes for mother and father and the troop of children. And you may come up and look on at it, too.
SOLNESS.
[In a low tone.] Is the builder to be allowed to come up beside the princess?
HILDA.
If the builder will.
SOLNESS.
[More softly.] Then I think the builder will come.
HILDA.
[Nods.] The builder—he will come.
SOLNESS.
But he will never be able to build any more. Poor builder!
HILDA.
[Animated.] Oh, yes, he will! We two will set to work together. And then we will build the loveliest—the very loveliest—thing in all the world.
SOLNESS.
[Intently.] Hilda—tell me what that is!
HILDA.
[Looks smilingly at him, shakes her head a little, pouts, and speaks as if to a child.] Builders—they are such very—very stupid people.
SOLNESS.
Yes, no doubt they are stupid. But now tell me what it is—the loveliest thing in the world—that we two are to build together?
HILDA.
[Is silent a little while, then says with an indefinable expression in her eyes.] Castles in the air.
SOLNESS.
Castles in the air?
HILDA.
[Nods.] Castles in the air, yes! Do you know what sort of thing a castle in the air is?
SOLNESS.
It is the loveliest thing in the world, you say.
HILDA.
[Rises with vehemence, and makes a gesture of repulsion with her hand.] Yes, to be sure it is! Castles in the air—they are so easy to build, too—[looks scornfully at him]—especially for the builders who have a—a dizzy conscience.
SOLNESS.
[Rises.] After this day we two will build together, Hilda.
HILDA.
[With a half-dubious smile.] A real castle in the air?
SOLNESS.
Yes. One with a firm foundation under it.
RAGNAR BROVIK comes out from the house. He is carrying a large green wreath with flowers and silk ribbons.
HILDA.
[With an outburst of pleasure.] The wreath! Oh, that will be glorious!
SOLNESS.
[In surprise.] Have you brought the wreath Ragnar?
RAGNAR.
I promised the foreman I would.
SOLNESS.
[Relieved.] Ah, then I suppose you father is better?
RAGNAR.
No.
SOLNESS.
Was he not cheered by what I wrote?
RAGNAR.
It came too late.
SOLNESS.
Too late!
RAGNAR.
When she came with it he was unconscious. He had had a stroke.
SOLNESS.
Why, then, you must go home to him! You must attend to your father!
RAGNAR.
He does not need me any more.
SOLNESS.
But surely you ought to be with him.
RAGNAR.
She is sitting by his bed.
SOLNESS.
[Rather uncertainly.] Kaia?
RAGNAR.
[Looking darkly at him.] Yes—Kaia.
SOLNESS.
Go home, Ragnar—both to him and to her. Give me the wreath.
RAGNAR.
[Suppresses a mocking smile.] You don't mean that you yourself—?
SOLNESS.
I will take it down to them myself [Takes the wreath from him.] And now you go home; we don't require you to-day.
RAGNAR.
I know you do not require me any more; but to-day I shall remain.
SOLNESS.
Well, remain then, since you are bent upon it.
HILDA.
[At the railing.] Mr. Solness, I will stand here and look on at you.
SOLNESS.
At me!
HILDA.
It will be fearfully thrilling.
SOLNESS.
[In a low tone.] We will talk about that presently, Hilda.
[He goes down the flight of steps with the wreath, and away through the garden.
HILDA.
[Looks after him, then turns to RAGNAR.] I think you might at least have thanked him
RAGNAR.
Thanked him? Ought I to have thanked him?
HILDA.
Yes, of course you ought!
RAGNAR.
I think it is rather you I ought to thank.
HILDA.
How can you say such a thing?
RAGNAR.
[Without answering her.] But I advise you to take care, Miss Wangel! For you don't know him rightly yet.
HILDA.
[Ardently.] Oh, no one knows him as I do!
RAGNAR.
[Laughs in exasperation.] Thank him, when he has held me down year after year! When he made father disbelieve in me—made me disbelieve in myself! And all merely that he might—!
HILDA.
[As if divining something.] That he might—? Tell me at once!
RAGNAR.
That he might keep her with him.
HILDA.
[With a start towards him.] The girl at the desk.
RAGNAR.
Yes.
HILDA.
[Threateningly, clenching her hands.] That is not true! You are telling falsehoods about him!
RAGNAR.
I would not believe it either until to-day—when she said so herself.
HILDA.
[As if beside herself.] What did she say? I will know! At once! at once!
RAGNAR.
She said that he had taken possession of her mind—her whole mind—centred all her thoughts upon himself alone. She says that she can never leave him—that she will remain here, where he is—
HILDA.
[With flashing eyes.] She will not be allowed to!
RAGNAR.
[As if feeling his way.] Who will not allow her?
HILDA.
[Rapidly.] He will not either!
RAGNAR.
Oh no—I understand the whole thing now. After this, she would merely be—in the way.
HILDA.
You understand nothing—since you can talk like that! No, I will tell you why he kept hold of her.
RAGNAR.
Well then, why?
HILDA.
In order to keep hold of you.
RAGNAR.
Has he told you so?
HILDA.
No, but it is so. It must be so! [Wildly.] I will—I will have it so!
RAGNAR.
And at the very moment when you came—he let her go.
HILDA.
It was you—you that he let go! What do you suppose he cares about strange women like her?
RAGNAR.
[Reflects.] Is it possible that all this time he has been afraid of me?
HILDA.
He afraid! I would not be so conceited if I were you.
RAGNAR.
Oh, he must have seen long ago that I had something in me, too. Besides—cowardly—that is just what he is, you see.
HILDA.
He! Oh yes, I am likely to believe that!
RAGNAR.
In a certain sense he is cowardly—he, the great master builder. He is not afraid of robbing others of their happiness—as he has done both for my father and me. But when it comes to climbing up a paltry bit of scaffolding—he will do anything rather than that.
HILDA.
Oh, you should just have seen him high, high up—at the dizzy height where I once saw him.
RAGNAR.
Did you see that?
HILDA.
Yes, indeed I did. How free and great he looked as he stood and fastened the wreath to the church vane!
RAGNAR.
I know that he ventured that, once in his life—one solitary time. It is a legend among us younger men. But no power on earth would induce him to do it again.
HILDA.
To-day he will do it again!
RAGNAR.
[Scornfully.] Yes, I daresay!
HILDA.
We shall see it!
RAGNAR.
That neither you nor I will see.
HILDA.
[With uncontrollable vehemence.] I will se it! I will and I must see it!
RAGNAR.
But he will not do it. He simply dare not do it. For you see he cannot get over this infirmity—master builder though he be.
MRS. SOLNESS comes from the house on to the verandah.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Looks around.] Is he not here? Where has he gone to?
RAGNAR.
Mr. Solness is down with the men.
HILDA.
He took the wreath with him.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Terrified.] Took the wreath with him! Oh God! oh God! Brovik—you must go down to him! Get him to come back here!
RAGNAR.
Shall I say you want to speak to him, Mrs. Solness?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh yes, do!—No, no—don't say that I want anything! You can say that somebody is here, and that he must come at once.
RAGNAR.
Good. I will do so, Mrs. Solness.
[He goes down the flight of steps and away through the garden.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, Miss Wangel, you can't think how anxious I feel about him.
HILDA.
Is there anything in this to be terribly frightened about?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh yes; surely you can understand. Just think, if he were really to do it! If he should take it into his head to climb up the scaffolding!
HILDA.
[Eagerly.] Do you think he will?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, one can never tell what he might take into his head. I am afraid there is nothing he mightn't think of doing.
HILDA.
Aha! Perhaps you too think he is—well—?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, I don't know what to think about him now. The doctor has been telling me all sorts of things; and putting it all together with several things I have heard him say—
DR. HERDAL looks out, at the door.
DR. HERDAL.
Is he not coming soon?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, I think so. I have sent for him at any rate.
DR. HERDAL.
[Advancing.] I am afraid you will have to go in, my dear lady—
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh no! Oh no! I shall stay out here and wait for Halvard.
DR. HERDAL.
But some ladies have just come to call on you—
MRS. SOLNESS.
Good heavens, that too! And just at this moment!
DR. HERDAL.
They say they positively must see the ceremony.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Well, well, I suppose I must go to them after all. It is my duty.
HILDA.
Can't you ask the ladies to go away?
MRS. SOLNESS.
No, that would never do. Now that they are here, it is my duty to see them. But do you stay out here in the meantime—and receive him when he comes.
DR. HERDAL.
And try to occupy his attention as long as possible—
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, do, dear Miss Wangel. Keep as firm hold of him as ever you can.
HILDA.
Would it not be best for you to do that?
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes; God knows that is my duty. But when one has duties in so many directions—
DR. HERDAL.
[Looks towards the garden.] There he is coming.
MRS. SOLNESS.
And I have to go in!
DR. HERDAL.
[To HILDA.] Don't say anything about my being here.
HILDA.
Oh no! I daresay I shall find something else to talk to Mr. Solness about.
MRS. SOLNESS.
And be sure you keep firm hold of him. I believe you can do it best.
[MRS. SOLNESS and DR. HERDAL go into the house. HILDA remains standing on the verandah. SOLNESS comes from the garden, up the flight of steps.
SOLNESS.
Somebody wants me, I hear.
HILDA.
Yes; it is I, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS.
Oh, is it you, Hilda? I was afraid it might be Aline or the Doctor.
HILDA.
You are very easily frightened, it seems!
SOLNESS.
Do you think so?
HILDA.
Yes; people say that you are afraid to climb about—on the scaffoldings, you know.
SOLNESS.
Well, that is quite a special thing.
HILDA.
Then it is true that you are afraid to do it?
SOLNESS.
Yes, I am.
HILDA.
Afraid of falling down and killing yourself?
SOLNESS.
No, not of that.
HILDA.
Of what, then?
SOLNESS.
I am afraid of retribution, Hilda.
HILDA.
Of retribution? [Shakes her head.] I don't understand that.
SOLNESS.
Sit down, and I will tell you something.
HILDA.
Yes, do! At once!
[She sits on a stool by the railing, and looks expectantly at him.
SOLNESS.
[Throws his hat on the table.] You know that I began by building churches.
HILDA.
[Nods.] I know that well.
SOLNESS.
For, you see, I came as a boy from a pious home in the country; and so it seemed to me that this church-building was the noblest task I could set myself.
HILDA.
Yes, yes.
SOLNESS.
And I venture to say that I built those poor little churches with such honest and warm and heartfelt devotion that—that—
HILDA.
That—? Well?
SOLNESS.
Well, that I think that he ought to have been pleased with me.
HILDA.
He? What he?
SOLNESS.
He who was to have the churches, of course! He to whose honour and glory they were dedicated.
HILDA.
Oh, indeed! But are you certain, then, that—that he was not—pleased with you?
SOLNESS.
[Scornfully.] He pleased with me! How can you talk so, Hilda? He who gave the troll in me leave to lord it just as it pleased. He who bade them be at hand to serve me, both day and might—all these—all these—
HILDA.
Devils—
SOLNESS.
Yes, of both kinds. Oh no, he made me feel clearly enough that he was not pleased with me. [Mysteriously.] You see, that was really the reason why he made the old house burn down.
HILDA.
Was that why?
SOLNESS.
Yes, don't you understand? He wanted to give me the chance of becoming an accomplished master in my own sphere—so that I might build all the more glorious churches for him. At first I did not understand what he was driving at; but all of a sudden it flashed upon me.
HILDA.
When was that?
SOLNESS.
It was when I was building the church-tower up at Lysanger.
HILDA.
I thought so.
SOLNESS.
For you see, Hilda—up there, amidst those new surroundings, I used to go about musing and pondering within myself. Then I saw plainly why he had taken my little children from me. It was that I should have nothing else to attach myself to. No such thing as love and happiness, you understand. I was to be only a master builder—nothing else, and all my life long I was to go on building for him. [Laughs.] But I can tell you nothing came of that!
HILDA.
What did you do then?
SOLNESS.
First of all, I searched and tried my own heart—
HILDA.
And then?
SOLNESS.
The I did the impossible—I, no less than he.
HILDA.
The impossible?
SOLNESS.
I had never before been able to climb up to a great, free height. But that day I did it.
HILDA.
[Leaping up.] Yes, yes, you did!
SOLNESS.
And when I stood there, high over everything, and was hanging the wreath over the vane, I said to him: Hear me now, thou Mighty One! From this day forward I will be a free builder—I too, in my sphere—just as thou in thine. I will never more build churches for thee—only homes for human beings.
HILDA.
[With great sparkling eyes.] That was the song that I heard through the air!
SOLNESS.
But afterwards his turn came.
HILDA.
What do you mean by that?
SOLNESS.
[Looks despondently at her.] Building homes for human beings—is not worth a rap, Hilda.
HILDA.
Do you say that now?
SOLNESS.
Yes, for now I see it. Men have no use for these homes of theirs—to be happy in. And I should not have had any use for such a home, if I had had one. [With a quiet, bitter laugh.] See, that is the upshot of the whole affair, however far back I look. Nothing really built; nor anything sacrificed for the chance of building. Nothing, nothing! the whole is nothing!
HILDA.
Then you will never build anything more?
SOLNESS.
[With animation.] On the contrary, I am just going to begin!
HILDA.
What, then? What will you build? Tell me at once!
SOLNESS.
I believe there is only one possible dwelling-place for human happiness—and that is what I am going to build now.
HILDA.
[Looks fixedly at him.] Mr. Solness—you mean our castles in the air.
SOLNESS.
The castles in the air—yes.
HILDA.
I am afraid you would turn dizzy before we got half-way up.
SOLNESS.
Not if I can mount hand in hand with you, Hilda.
HILDA.
[With an expression of suppressed resentment.] Only with me? Will there be no others of the party?
SOLNESS.
Who else should there be?
HILDA.
Oh—that girl—that Kaia at the desk. Poor thing—don't you want to take her with you too?
SOLNESS.
Oho! Was it about her that Aline was talking to you?
HILDA.
Is it so—or is it not?
SOLNESS.
[Vehemently.] I will not answer such a question. You must believe in me, wholly and entirely!
HILDA.
All these ten years I have believed in you so utterly—so utterly.
SOLNESS.
You must go on believing in me!
HILDA.
Then let me see you stand free and high up!
SOLNESS.
[Sadly.] Oh Hilda—it is not every day that I can do that.
HILDA.
[Passionately.] I will have you do it! I will have it! [Imploringly.] Just once more, Mr. Solness! Do the impossible once again!
SOLNESS.
[Stands and looks deep into her eyes.] If I try it, Hilda, I will stand up there and talk to him as I did that time before.
HILDA.
[In rising excitement.] What will you say to him?
SOLNESS.
I will say to him: Hear me, Mighty Lord—thou may'st judge me as seems best to thee. But hereafter I will build nothing but the loveliest thing in the world—
HILDA.
[Carried away.] Yes—yes—yes!
SOLNESS. —build it together with a princess, whom I love—
HILDA.
Yes, tell him that! Tell him that!
SOLNESS.
Yes. And then I will say to him: Now I shall go down and throw my arms round her and kiss her—
HILDA. —many times! Say that!
SOLNESS. —many, many times, I will say it!
HILDA.
And then—?
SOLNESS.
Then I will wave my hat—and come down to the earth—and do as I said to him.
HILDA.
[With outstretched arms.] Now I see you again as I did when there was song in the air!
SOLNESS.
[Looks at here with his head bowed.] How have you become what you are, Hilda?
HILDA.
How have you made me what I am?
SOLNESS.
[Shortly and firmly.] The princess shall have her castle.
HILDA.
[Jubilant, clapping her hands.] Oh, Mr. Solness—! My lovely, lovely castle. Our castle in the air!
SOLNESS.
On a firm foundation.
[In the street a crowd of people has assembled, vaguely seen through the trees. Music of wind-instruments is heard far away behind the new house.
MRS. SOLNESS, with a fur collar round her neck, DOCTOR HERDAL with her white shawl on his arm, and some ladies, come out on the verandah. RAGNAR BROVIK comes at the same time up from the garden.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[To RAGNAR.] Are we to have music, too?
RAGNAR.
Yes. It's the band of the Mason's Union. [To SOLNESS.] The foreman asked me to tell you that he is ready now to go up with the wreath.
SOLNESS.
[Takes his hat.] Good. I will go down to him myself.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Anxiously.] What have you to do down there, Halvard?
SOLNESS.
[Curtly.] I must be down below with the men.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Yes, down below—only down below.
SOLNESS.
That is where I always stand—on everyday occasions.
[He goes down the flight of steps and away through the garden.
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Calls after him over the railing.] But do beg the man to be careful when he goes up! Promise me that, Halvard!
DR. HERDAL.
[To MRS. SOLNESS.] Don't you see that I was right? He has given up all thought of that folly.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, what a relief! Twice workmen have fallen, and each time they were killed on the spot. [Turns to HILDA.] Thank you, Miss Wangel, for having kept such a firm hold upon him. I should never have been able to manage him.
DR. HERDAL.
[Playfully.] Yes, yes, Miss Wangel, you know how to keep firm hold on a man, when you give your mind to it.
[MRS. SOLNESS and DR. HERDAL go up to the ladies, who are standing nearer to the steps and looking over the garden. HILDA remains standing beside the railing in the foreground. RAGNAR goes up to her.
RAGNAR.
[With suppressed laughter, half whispering.] Miss Wangel—do you see all those young fellows down in the street?
HILDA.
Yes.
RAGNAR.
They are my fellow students, come to look at the master.
HILDA.
What do they want to look at him for?
RAGNAR.
They want to see how he daren't climb to the top of his own house.
HILDA.
Oh, that is what those boys want, is it?
RAGNAR.
[Spitefully and scornfully.] He has kept us down so long—now we are going to see him keep quietly down below himself.
HILDA.
You will not see that—not this time.
RAGNAR.
[Smiles.] Indeed! Then where shall we see him?
HILDA.
High—high up by the vane! That is where you will see him!
RAGNAR.
[Laughs.] Him! Oh yes, I daresay!
HILDA.
His will is to reach the top—so at the top you shall see him.
RAGNAR.
His will, yes; that I can easily believe. But he simply cannot do it. His head would swim round, long, long before he got half-way. He would have to crawl down again on his hands and knees.
DR. HERDAL.
[Points across.] Look! There goes the foreman up the ladders.
MRS. SOLNESS.
And of course he has the wreath to carry too. Oh, I do hope he will be careful!
RAGNAR.
[Stares incredulously and shouts.] Why, but it's—
HILDA.
[Breaking out in jubilation.] It is the master builder himself?
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Screams with terror.] Yes, it is Halvard! Oh my great God—! Halvard! Halvard!
DR. HERDAL.
Hush! Don't shout to him!
MRS. SOLNESS.
[Half beside herself.] I must go to him! I must get him to come down again!
DR. HERDAL.
[Holds her.] Don't move, any of you! Not a sound!
HILDA.
[Immovable, follows SOLNESS with her eyes.] He climbs and climbs. Higher and higher! Higher and higher! Look! Just look!
RAGNAR.
[Breathless.] He must turn now. He can't possibly help it.
HILDA.
He climbs and climbs. He will soon be at the top now.
MRS. SOLNESS.
Oh, I shall die of terror. I cannot bear to see it.
DR. HERDAL.
Then don't look up at him.
HILDA.
There he is standing on the topmost planks! Right at the top!
DR. HERDAL.
Nobody must move! Do you dear?
HILDA.
[Exulting, with quiet intensity.] At last! At last! Now I see him great and free again!
RAGNAR.
[Almost voiceless.] But this is im—
HILDA.
So I have seen him all through these ten years. How secure he stands! Frightfully thrilling all the same. Look at him! Now he is hanging the wreath round the vane!
RAGNAR.
I feel as if I were looking at something utterly impossible.
HILDA.
Yes, it is the impossible that he is doing now! [With the indefinable expression in her eyes.] Can you see any one else up there with him?
RAGNAR.
There is no one else.
HILDA.
Yes, there is one he is striving with.
RAGNAR.
You are mistaken.
HILDA.
Then do you hear no song in the air, either?
RAGNAR.
It must be the wind in the tree-tops.
HILDA.
I hear a song—a mighty song! [Shouts in wild jubilation and glee.] Look, look! Now he is waving his hat! He is waving it to us down here! Oh, wave, wave back to him! For now it is finished! [Snatches the white shawl from the Doctor, waves it, and shouts up to SOLNESS.] Hurrah for Master Builder Solness!
DR. HERDAL.
Stop! Stop! For God's sake—!
[The ladies on the verandah wave their pocket-handkerchiefs, and the shouts of "Hurrah" are taken up in the street. Then they are suddenly silenced, and the crowd bursts out into a shriek of horror. A human body, with planks and fragments of wood, is vaguely perceived crashing down behind the trees.
MRS. SOLNESS AND THE LADIES.
[At the same time.] He is falling! He is falling!
[MRS. SOLNESS totters, falls backwards, swooning, and is caught, amid cries and confusion, by the ladies. The crowd in the street breaks down the fence and storms into the garden. At the same time DR. HERDAL, too, rushes down thither. A short pause.
HILDA.
[Stares fixedly upwards and says, as if petrified.] My Master Builder.
RAGNAR.
[Supports himself, trembling, against the railing.] He must be dashed to pieces—killed on the spot.
ONE OF THE LADIES.
[Whilst MRS. SOLNESS is carried into the house.] Run down for the doctor—
RAGNAR.
I can't stir a root—
ANOTHER LADY.
Then call to some one!
RAGNAR.
[Tries to call out.] How is it? Is he alive?
A VOICE.
[Below, in the garden.] Mr. Solness is dead!
OTHER VOICES.
[Nearer.] The head is all crushed.—he fell right into the quarry.
HILDA.
[Turns to RAGNAR, and says quietly.] I can't see him up there now.
RAGNAR.
This is terrible. So, after all, he could not do it.
HILDA.
[As if in quiet spell-bound triumph.] But he mounted right to the top. And I heard harps in the air. [Waves her shawl in the air, and shrieks with wild intensity.] My—my Master Builder!
THE END |
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