Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (303 page)

EYOLF. What! Seen the Rat-Wife! Oh, you’re only making a fool of me!

ASTA. No; it’s quite true. I saw her yesterday.

EYOLF. Where did you see her?

ASTA. I saw her on the road, outside the town.

ALLMERS. I saw her, too, somewhere up in the country.

RITA.
[Who is sitting on the sofa.]
Perhaps it will be out turn to see her next, Eyolf.

EYOLF. Auntie, isn’t it strange that she should be called the Rat-Wife?

ASTA. Oh, people just give her that name because she wanders round the country driving away all the rats.

ALLMERS. I have heard that her real name is Varg.

EYOLF. Varg! That means a wolf, doesn’t it?

ALLMERS.
[Patting him on the head.]
So you know that, do you?

EYOLF.
[Cautiously.]
Then perhaps it may be true, after all, that she is a were-wolf at night. Do you believe that, Papa?

ALLMERS. Oh, no; I don’t believe it. Now you ought to go and play a little in the garden.

EYOLF. Should I not take some books with me?

ALLMERS. No, no books after this. You had better go down to the beach to the other boys.

EYOLF.
[Shyly.]
No, Papa, I won’t go down to the boys to-day.

ALLMERS. Why not?

EYOLF. Oh, because I have these clothes on.

ALLMERS.
[Knitting his brows.]
Do you mean that they make fun of — of your pretty clothes?

EYOLF.
[Evasively.]
No, they daren’t — for then I would thrash them.

ALLMERS. Aha! — then why — ?

EYOLF. You see, they are so naughty, these boys. And then they say I can never be a soldier.

ALLMERS.
[With suppressed indignation.]
Why do they say that, do you think?

EYOLF. I suppose they are jealous of me. For you know, Papa, they are so poor, they have to go about barefoot.

ALLMERS.
[Softly, with choking voice.]
Oh, Rita — how it wrings my heart!

RITA.
[Soothingly, rising.]
There, there, there!

ALLMERS.
[Threateningly.]
But these rascals shall soon find out who is the master down at the beach!

ASTA.
[Listening.]
There is some one knocking.

EYOLF. Oh, I’m sure it’s Borgheim!

RITA. Come in.

[The RAT-WIFE comes softly and noiselessly in by the door on the right. She is a thin little shrunken figure, old and grey-haired, with keen, piercing eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned flowered gown, with a black hood and cloak. She has in her hand a large red umbrella, and carries a black bag by a loop over her arm.]

EYOLF.
[Softly, taking hold of ASTA’s dress.]
Auntie! That must surely be her!

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Curtseying at the door.]
I humbly beg pardon — but are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house?

ALLMERS. Here? No, I don’t think so.

THE RAT-WIFE. For it would be such a pleasure to me to rid your worships’ house of them.

RITA. Yes, yes; we understand. But we have nothing of the sort here.

THE RAT-WIFE. That’s very unlucky, that is; for I just happened to be on my rounds now, and goodness knows when I may be in these parts again. — Oh, how tired I am!

ALLMERS.
[Pointing to a chair.]
Yes, you look tired.

THE RAT-WIFE. I know one ought never to get tired of doing good to the poor little things that are hated and persecuted so cruelly. But it takes your strength out of you, it does.

RITA. Won’t you sit down and rest a little?

THE RAT-WIFE. I thank your ladyship with all my heart.
[Seats herself on a chair between the door and the sofa.]
I have been out all night at my work.

ALLMERS. Have you indeed?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, over on the islands.
[With a chuckling laugh.]
The people sent for me, I can assure you. They didn’t like it a bit; but there was nothing else to be done. They had to put a good face on it, and bite the sour apple.
[Looks at EYOLF, and nods.]
The sour apple, little master, the sour apple.

EYOLF.
[Involuntarily, a little timidly.]
Why did they have to — ?

THE RAT-WIFE. What?

EYOLF. To bite it?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, because they couldn’t keep body and soul together on account of the rats and all the little rat-children, you see, young master.

RITA. Ugh! Poor people! Have they so many of them?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, it was all alive and swarming with them.
[Laughs with quiet glee.]
They came creepy-crawly up into the beds all night long. They plumped into the milk-cans, and they went pittering and pattering all over the floor, backwards and forwards, and up and down.

EYOLF.
[Softly, to ASTA.]
I shall never go there, Auntie.

THE RAT-WIFE. But then I came — I, and another along with me. And we took them with us, every one — the sweet little creatures! We made an end of every one of them.

EYOLF.
[With a shriek.]
Papa — look! look!

RITA. Good Heavens, Eyolf!

ALLMERS. What’s the matter?

EYOLF.
[Pointing.]
There’s something wriggling in the bag!

RITA.
[At the extreme left, shrieks.]
Ugh! Send her away, Alfred.

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Laughing.]
Oh, dearest lady, you needn’t be frightened of such a little mannikin.

ALLMERS. But what is the thing?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, it’s only little Mopsëman.
[Loosening the string of the bag.]
Come up out of the dark, my own little darling friend.

[A little dog with a broad black snout pokes its head out of the bag.]

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Nodding and beckoning to EYOLF.]
Come along, don’t be afraid, my little wounded warrior! He won’t bite. Come here! Come here!

EYOLF.
[Clinging to ASTA.]
No, I dare not.

THE RAT-WIFE. Don’t you think he has a gentle, lovable countenance, my young master?

EYOLF.
[Astonished, pointing.]
That thing there?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, this thing here.

EYOLF.
[Almost under his breath, staring fixedly at the dog.]
I think he has the horriblest — countenance I ever saw.

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Closing the bag.]
Oh, it will come — it will come, right enough.

EYOLF.
[Involuntarily drawing nearer, at last goes right up to her, and strokes the bag.]
But he is lovely — lovely all the same.

THE RAT-WIFE.
[In a tone of caution.]
But now he is so tired and weary, poor thing. He’s utterly tired out, he is.
[Looks at ALLMERS.]
For it takes the strength out of you, that sort of game, I can tell you, sir.

ALLMERS. What sort of game do you mean?

THE RAT-WIFE. The luring game.

ALLMERS. Do you mean that it is the dog that lures the rats?

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Nodding.]
Mopsëman and I — we two do it together. And it goes so smoothly — for all you can see, at any rate. I just slip a string through his collar, and then I lead him three times round the house, and play on my Pan’s-pipes. When they hear that, they have got to come up from the cellars, and down from the garrets, and out of flour boles, all the blessed little creatures.

EYOLF. And does he bite them to death then?

THE RAT-WIFE. Oh, not at all! No, we go down to the boat, he and I do — and then they follow after us, both the big ones and the little ratikins.

EYOLF.
[Eagerly.]
And what then — tell me!

THE RAT-WIFE. Then we push out from the land, and I scull with one oar, and play on my Pan’s-pipes. And Mopsëman, he swims behind.
[With glittering eyes.]
And all the creepers and crawlers, they follow and follow us out into the deep, deep waters. Ay, for they have to.

EYOLF. Why do they have to?

THE RAT-WIFE. Just because they want not to — just because they are so deadly afraid of the water. That is why they have got to plunge into it.

EYOLF. Are they drowned, then?

THE RAT-WIFE. Every blessed one.
[More softly.]
And there it is all as still, and soft, and dark as their hearts can desire, the lovely little things. Down there they sleep a long, sweet sleep, with no one to hate them or persecute them any more.
[Rises.]
In the old days, I can tell you, I didn’t need any Mopsëman. Then I did the luring myself — I alone.

EYOLF. And what did you lure then?

THE RAT-WIFE. Men. One most of all.

EYOLF.
[With eagerness.]
Oh, who was that one? Tell me!

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Laughing.]
It was my own sweetheart, it was, little heart-breaker!

EYOLF. And where is he now, then?

THE RAT-WIFE.
[Harshly.]
Down where all the rats are.
[Resuming her milder tone.]
But now I must be off and get to business again. Always on the move.
[To RITA.]
So your ladyship has no sort of use for me to-day? I could finish it all off while I am about it.

RITA. No, thank you; I don’t think we require anything.

THE RAT-WIFE. Well, well, your sweet ladyship, you can never tell. If your ladyship should find that there is anything lure that keeps nibbling and gnawing, and creeping and crawling, then just see and get hold of me and Mopsëman. — Good-bye, good-bye, a kind good-bye to you all.
[She goes out by the door on the right.]

EYOLF.
[Softly and triumphantly, to ASTA.]
Only think, Auntie, now I have seen the Rat-Wife too!

[RITA goes out upon the verandah, and fans herself with her pocket-handkerchief. Shortly afterwards, EYOLF slips cautiously and unnoticed out to the right.]

ALLMERS.
[Takes up the portfolio from the table by the sofa.]
Is this your portfolio, Asta?

ASTA. Yes. I have some of the old letters in it.

ALLMERS. Ah, the family letters —

ASTA. You know you asked me to arrange them for you while you were away.

ALLMERS.
[Pats her on the head.]
And you have actually found time to do that, dear?

ASTA. Oh, yes. I have done it partly out here and partly at my own rooms in town.

ALLMERS. Thanks, dear. Did you find anything particular in them?

ASTA.
[Lightly.]
Oh, you know you always find something or other in such old papers.
[Speaking lower and seriously.]
It is the letters to mother that are in this portfolio.

ALLMERS. Those, of course, you must keep yourself.

ASTA.
[With an effort.]
No; I am determined that you shall look through them, too, Alfred. Some time — later on in life. I haven’t the key of the portfolio with me just now.

ALLMERS. It doesn’t matter, my dear Asta, for I shall never read your mother’s letters in any case.

ASTA.
[Fixing her eyes on him.]
Then some time or other — some quiet evening — I will tell you a little of what is in them.

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