Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (307 page)

ALLMERS. I must go out to him! Let me go, Asta! I will take the boat.

ASTA.
[In terror.]
Don’t go to the fiord, I say!

ALLMERS.
[Yielding.]
No, no — I will not. Only let me alone.

ASTA.
[Leading him back to the table.]
You must rest from your thoughts, Alfred. Come here and sit down.

ALLMERS.
[Making as if to seat himself on the bench.]
Well, well — as you please.

ASTA. No, I won’t let you sit there.

ALLMERS. Yes, let me.

ASTA. No, don’t. For then you will only sit looking out —
[Forces him down upon a chair, with his back to the right.]
There now. Now that’s right.
[Seats herself upon the bench.]
And now we can talk a little again.

ALLMERS.
[Drawing a deep breath audibly.]
It was good to deaden the sorrow and heartache for a moment.

ASTA. You insist do so, Alfred.

ALLMERS. But don’t you think it is terribly weak and unfeeling of me — to be able to do so?

ASTA. Oh, no — I am sure it is impossible to keep circling for ever round one fixed thought.

ALLMERS. Yes, for me it is impossible. Before you came to me, here I sat, torturing myself unspeakably with this crushing, gnawing sorrow —

ASTA. Yes?

ALLMERS. And would you believe it, Asta — ? H’m —

ASTA. Well?

ALLMERS. In the midst of all the agony, I found myself speculating what we should have for dinner to-day.

ASTA.
[Soothingly.]
Well, well, if only it rests you to —

ALLMERS. Yes, just fancy, dear — it seemed as if it did give me rest.
[Holds out, his hand to her across the table.]
How good it is, Asta, that I have you with me. I am so glad of that. Glad, glad — even in my sorrow.

ASTA.
[Looking earnestly at him.]
You ought most of all to be glad that you have Rita.

ALLMERS. Yes, of course I should. But Rita is no kin to me — it isn’t like having a sister.

ASTA.
[Eagerly.]
Do you say that, Alfred?

ALLMERS. Yes, our family is a thing apart.
[Half jestingly.]
We have always had vowels for our initials. Don’t you remember how often we used to speak of that? And all our relations — all equally poor. And we have all the same colour of eyes.

ASTA. Do you think I have — ?

ALLMERS. No, you take entirely after your mother. You are not in the least like the rest of us — not even like father. But all the same —

ASTA. All the same — ?

ALLMERS. Well, I believe that living together has, as it were, stamped us in each other’s image — mentally, I mean.

ASTA.
[With warm emotion.]
Oh, you must never say that, Alfred. It is only I that have taken my stamp from you; and it is to you that I owe everything — every good thing in the world.

ALLMERS.
[Shaking his head.]
You owe me nothing, Asta. On the contrary —

ASTA. I owe you everything! You must never doubt that. No sacrifice has been too great for you —

ALLMERS.
[Interrupting.]
Oh, nonsense — sacrifice! Don’t talk of such a thing. — I have only loved you, Asta, ever since you were a little child.
[After a short pause.]
And then it always seemed to me that I had so much injustice to make up to you for.

ASTA.
[Astonished.]
Injustice? You?

ALLMERS. Not precisely on my own account. But —

ASTA.
[Eagerly.]
But — ?

ALLMERS. On father’s.

ASTA.
[Half rising from the bench.]
On — father’s!
[Sitting down again.]
What do you mean by that, Alfred?

ALLMERS. Father was never really kind to you.

ASTA.
[Vehemently.]
Oh, don’t say that!

ALLMERS. Yes, it is true. He did not love you — not as he ought to have.

ASTA.
[Evasively.]
No, perhaps not as he loved you. That was only natural.

ALLMERS.
[Continuing.]
And he was often hard to your mother, too — at least in the last years.

ASTA.
[Softly.]
Mother was so much, much younger than he — remember that.

ALLMERS. Do you think they were not quite suited to each other?

ASTA. Perhaps not.

ALLMERS. Yes, but still — . Father, who in other ways was so gentle and warm-hearted — so kindly towards every one —

ASTA.
[Quietly.]
Mother, too, was not always as she ought to have been.

ALLMERS. Your mother was not!

ASTA. Perhaps not always.

ALLMERS. Towards father, do you mean?

ASTA. Yes.

ALLMERS. I never noticed that.

ASTA.
[Struggling with her tears, rises.]
Oh, my dear Alfred — let them rest — those who are gone.
[She goes towards the right.]

ALLMERS.
[Rising.]
Yes, let them rest.
[Wringing his hands.]
But those who are gone — it is they that won’t let us rest, Asta. Neither day nor night.

ASTA.
[Looks warmly at him.]
Time will make it all seem easier, Alfred.

ALLMERS.
[Looking helplessly at her.]
Yes, don’t you think it will? — But how I am to get over these terrible first days
[Hoarsely.]
— that is what I cannot imagine.

ASTA.
[Imploringly, laying her hands on his shoulders.]
Go up to Rita. Oh, please do —

ALLMERS.
[Vehemently, withdrawing from her.]
No, no, no — don’t talk to me of that! I cannot, I tell you.
[More calmly.]
Let me remain here, with you.

ASTA. Well, I will not leave you.

ALLMERS.
[Seizing her hand and holding it fast.]
Thank you for that!
[Looks out for a time over the fiord.]
Where is my little Eyolf now?
[Smiling sadly to her.]
Can you tell me that my big, wise Eyolf?
[Shaking his head.]
No one in all the world can tell me that. I know only this one terrible thing — that he is gone from me.

ASTA.
[Looking up to the left, and withdrawing her hand.]
Here they are coming.

[MRS. ALLMERS and Engineer BORGHEIM come down by the wood-path, she leading the way. She wears a dark dress and a black veil over her head. He has an umbrella under his arm.]

ALLMERS.
[Going to meet her.]
How is it with you, Rita?

RITA.
[Passing him.]
Oh, don’t ask.

ALLMERS. Why do you come here?

RITA. Only to look for you. What are you doing?

ALLMERS. Nothing. Asta came down to me.

RITA. Yes, but before Asta came? You have been away from me all the morning.

ALLMERS. I have been sitting here looking out over the water.

RITA. Ugh, — how can you?

ALLMERS.
[Impatiently.]
I like best to be alone now.

RITA.
[Moving restlessly about.]
And then to sit still! To stay in one place!

ALLMERS. I have nothing in the world to move for.

RITA. I cannot bear to be anywhere long. Least of all here — with the fiord at my very feet.

ALLMERS. It is just the nearness of the fiord —

RITA.
[To BORGHEIM.]
Don’t you think he should come back with the rest of us?

BORGHEIM.
[To ALLMERS.]
I believe it would be better for you.

ALLMERS. No, no; let me stay where I am.

RITA. Then I will stay with you, Alfred.

ALLMERS. Very well; do so, then. You remain too, Asta.

ASTA.
[Whispers to BORGHEIM.]
Let us leave them alone!

BORGHEIM.
[With a glance of comprehension.]
Miss Allmers, shall we go a little further — along the shore? For the very last time?

ASTA.
[Taking her umbrella.]
Yes, come. Let us go a little further.

[ASTA and BORGHEIM go out together behind the boat-shed. ALLMERS wanders about for a little. Then he seats himself on a stone under the trees on the left.]

RITA.
[Comes up and stands before him, her hands folded and hanging down.]
Can you think the thought, Alfred — that we have lost Eyolf?

ALLMERS.
[Looking sadly at the ground.]
We must accustom ourselves to think it.

RITA. I cannot. I cannot. And then that horrible sight that will haunt me all my life long.

ALLMERS.
[Looking up.]
What sight? What have you seen?

RITA. I have seen nothing myself. I have only heard it told. Oh — !

ALLMERS. You may as well tell me at once.

RITA. I got Borgheim to go down with me to the pier —

ALLMERS. What did you want there?

RITA. To question the boys as to how it happened.

ALLMERS. But we know that.

RITA. We got to know more.

ALLMERS. Well?

RITA. It is not true that he disappeared all at once.

ALLMERS. Do they say that now?

RITA. Yes. They say they saw him lying down on the bottom. Deep down in the clear water.

ALLMERS.
[Grinding his teeth.]
And they didn’t save him!

RITA. I suppose they could not.

ALLMERS. They could swim — every one of them. Did they tell you how he was lying whilst they could see him?

RITA. Yes. They said he was lying on his back. And with great, open eyes.

ALLMERS. Open eyes. But quite still?

RITA. Yes, quite still. And then something came and swept him away. They called it the undertow.

ALLMERS.
[Nodding slowly.]
So that was the last they saw of him.

RITA.
[Suffocated with tears.]
Yes.

ALLMERS.
[In a dull voice.]
And never — never will any one see him again.

RITA.
[Wailing.]
I shall see him day and night, as he lay down there.

ALLMERS. With great, open eyes.

RITA.
[Shuddering.]
Yes, with great, open eyes. I see them! I see them now!

ALLMERS.
[Rises slowly and looks with quiet menace at her.]
Were they evil, those eyes, Rita?

RITA.
[Turning pale.]
Evil — !

ALLMERS.
[Going close up to her.]
Were they evil eyes that stared up? Up from the depths?

RITA.
[Shrinking from him.]
Alfred — !

ALLMERS.
[Following her.]
Answer me! Were they a child’s evil eyes?

RITA.
[Shrieks.]
Alfred! Alfred!

ALLMERS. Now things have come about — just as you wished, Rita.

RITA. I! What did I wish?