Scene 8
Clara enters.
Karl.
At last! You shouldn’t do so much kissing. Where four red lips get baked together, there’s a bridge for the devil to cross. What have you got there?
Clara.
Where? What?
Karl.
Where? What? In your hand.
Clara.
Nothing.
Karl.
Nothing! Is it secrets? (Snatches Leonard’s letter from her.) Give it to me! When your father’s out, your brother’s your guardian.
Clara.
I kept the thing in my hand, and yet the wind is so strong that it is blowing slates off the roofs. As I went past the church, one fell right at my feet. I nearly fell over it. “O God,” I thought, “one more”—and stood still. It would have been so beautiful. They’d have buried me and said it was an accident. But I hoped in vain for a second.
Karl (who has read the letter).
Damnation! I’ll smash the arm of the man that wrote that. Fetch me a bottle of wine! Or is the money-box empty?
Clara.
There’s one bottle left in the house. I bought it secretly and hid it for mother’s birthday. It was to have been to-morrow——(Turns away.)
Karl.
Give it to me.
[Clara brings the wine.
Karl (drinking quickly).
Now we might begin again—planing, sawing, and hammering, and then eating, drinking, and sleeping between-whiles to be able to go on planing and sawing and hammering. And a-bending of the knee on Sundays into the bargain: O God, I thank Thee for letting me plane and saw and hammer! (Drinks.) Long live every dog that doesn’t bite on the chain! (Drinks again.) Here’s to him again!
Clara.
Karl, don’t drink so much. Father says there’s the devil in wine.
Karl.
And the parson says there’s God in it. (Drinks.) We’ll see who’s right. The bailiff came here. How did he behave?
Clara.
He behaved as if he were in a thieves’ den. Mother fell down and died the moment he opened his mouth.
Karl.
Good! If you hear in the morning that he’s been found dead, don’t curse the murderer.
Clara.
But, Karl, you won’t——
Karl.
I’m not the only enemy he’s got. He’s been attacked many a time. It would be no easy matter to spot the right man, unless he leaves his hat or his stick lying. (Drinks.) Whoever he is, I wish him luck.
Clara.
You’re talking——
Karl.
Don’t you like the idea? Leave it alone, then. You won’t see me for a long time again.
Clara (shuddering).
No.
Karl.
No! Do you know already that I’m going to sea? Do my thoughts crawl on my forehead for you to read them? Or has the old man been raving in his usual fashion and threatening to lock me out? Bah! That would be much the same as if the warder had said to me—“You can’t stay in prison any longer; I’ll throw you out where you’ll be free.”
Clara.
You don’t understand me.
Karl (sings).
“The good ship puffs its sails, oh,
And merrily blows the breeze.”
Yes, truly, I’m not bound to the joiner’s bench any longer. Mother’s dead. There’s nobody now who would stop eating fish after every storm. Besides, I’ve wanted it ever since I was a boy. Out into the world! I shall never get on here, or not until I have it proved to me that Fortune no longer favours the man that boldly risks his life, the man that throws away the copper he gets from the great treasury, to see whether she’ll take it from him, or give it back to him gilded.
Clara.
And will you leave father alone? He’s sixty now.
Karl.
Alone? Aren’t you staying with him?
Clara.
I?
Karl.
Yes, you, his favourite! What nonsense have you got in your head that you ask such questions? I don’t begrudge him his pleasure. He’ll be freed from his eternal worry, when I go. So why shouldn’t I? We simply don’t suit each other. Things can’t be too narrow for him. He’d like to clench his fist and creep inside of it. I’d like to burst my skin like baby’s clothes, if I could! (Sings.)
“The anchor’s lightly lifted,
The rudder’s quickly shifted,
Away she flies with ease.”
Tell me now, did he doubt my guilt for a moment? Didn’t he comfort himself as usual with his overwise: “I expected it. I always thought as much. It had to come to that.” If you’d done it, he’d have killed himself. I’d like to see him if you went the woman’s way. He’d feel as if he was with child himself,—with the devil, too.
Clara.
Oh, how that tears my heart! I must go!
Karl.
What do you mean?
Clara.
I must go into the kitchen—what else? (Clutches at her brow.) Yes, that’s what I came home to do. (Goes out.)
Karl.
She seems very queer! (Sings.)
“There comes a daring seabird
With greetings from the West.”
Clara (comes in again).
The last thing’s done now. Father’s evening jug is by the fire. When I closed the kitchen door behind me and realised I should never go in again, I shivered to the very soul. So shall I leave this room, so this house, and so the world.
Karl (sings, walking up and down. Clara in background).
“The sun it flames down daily
And the little fishes gaily
Do sport around their guest.”
Clara.
Why don’t I do it then? Shall I never do it? Shall I put it off from day to day? Just as I’m putting it off now, from minute to minute—yes, away then, away! And yet I stay here. I feel as if hands were raised in my womb, as if eyes——(Sits down on a chair.) What does this mean? Am I too weak to do it? Well, am I strong enough to see my father with his throat cut? (Standing up.) No! No!—Our Father, which art in Heaven—Hallowed be thy kingdom. O God, my poor head! I can’t even pray. Karl! Karl! Help me!
Karl.
What’s wrong?
Clara.
The Lord’s Prayer. (Recollects.) I felt as if I was in the water and sinking, and had forgotten to pray. I—(Suddenly.) Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. That’s it. Yes! Yes! Of course I forgive him. I’d forgotten all about him. Good-night, Karl.
Karl.
Are you going to bed so early? Good-night!
Clara (like a child, going through the Lord’s Prayer).
Forgive us——
Karl.
You might get me a drink of water first—but it must be cold.
Clara (quickly).
I’ll fetch it from the well.
Karl.
Well, if you like; it isn’t far.
Clara.
Thanks! Thanks! That was the only thing that troubled me. The deed itself was bound to betray me. Now they will say—“She’s had an accident. She fell in.”
Karl.
Take care, though; they haven’t nailed that plank on yet.
Clara.
Why, the moon’s up! O God, I only come to save my father from coming. Forgive me as I—Be gracious, gracious—— (Goes out.)