ALFHILD.
But I have not the power, I cannot go away;
Here must I stay and suffer my woe!
'Tis little the flowers out there in the wood
Can tear themselves up from the ground!
And Olaf, whether he be false or good,—
About him my roots I have wound.
[Pause.—The HOUSE SERVANTS come with torches from the left.]
ALFHILD. [As if seized by an uneasy presentiment.] Whither do you go? Whither, whither? What is going to happen?
A SERVANT. Why, see, see! It is Alfhild; she is still here!
ALFHILD. O, tell me this! What is going to happen,—why all these preparations?
THE SERVANT. The wedding! Wouldn't you care to see it?
ALFHILD. [In feverish anxiety.] The wedding! O, no, no! Put it off, only till tomorrow! If the wedding is held, then is everything over with me, I well know!
THE SERVANT. Postpone it! No, Alfhild! 'Tis not, I'm afraid, the wish of bridegroom or bride!
ANOTHER. Think for a moment! Were you yourself but the bride, you surely would not want to wait.
[Laughter.]
THE FIRST SERVANT. Now we go down to the gate at the church to light the way with red bridal lights when the procession starts from the house.
THE SECOND SERVANT. Come along with us, Alfhild! You shall also have a torch to carry!
SEVERAL. Yes, yes, you must come! It is Lord Olaf's day of glory!
[Laughter.]
ALFHILD. [Takes one of the torches.] Yes, yes, I will! As the most humble in the row I shall stand down there, and then, when he sees me, when I ask of him, when I remind him of everything he has promised and sworn,—O, tell me, tell me, do you not think that he will be kind to me again? Do you think so? O, tell me you do! Say that you think so!
THE SERVANTS. Aha,—for certain he will; now come!
[They go out to the right to the rear of the house.]
ALFHILD. [Bursts into tears.]
They mock at me, laugh at me,—one and all!
So harsh is not even the mountain wall;
The moss thereon is permitted to grow;
There's no one so kind to me here! I—I must go!
[Thunder and lightning.]
ALFHILD. Ah, heaven itself is angry and grim,
It pours out its wrath on my wretched head;
But flash there is none to annihilate him
Who craftily tricked me in all that he said!
[The tones of the organ are heard from within the church.]
ALFHILD. O, listen! I hear God's angel choir!
'Tis Olaf to the altar they call!
And I must stand here in my ragged attire
And suffer outside the church-hall!
[She swings the torch high in the air.]
ALFHILD. No, no, that I will not, thou all-highest God!
O, tempt me no longer, forswear thee I may!
[She is silent and listens to the organ music.]
ALFHILD. God's angels are singing! From under the sod
The dead they were able to carol away!
O, my bosom is bursting with woe!
[She kneels and faces the church.]
ALFHILD. Cease, cease your melodies tender and sweet!
O, cease your singing; be kind, I entreat!
Or Olaf to the altar will go!
[Whispering and in the greatest apprehension.]
ALFHILD. Be still! O, be still! For a little while yet!
He is lulled in a sleep that will make him forget!
O, waken him not, else straight he will hie
To the church—and then, alas, I must die!
[The organ grows louder through the storm. ALFHILD springs up,
beside herself with despair.]
The angels of God have forsaken me quite!
They mock at my anguish and woe!
They conjure him forth;—he is now in their might!
Ah, if here in the dark, dark night I must go,
Your bridal chamber at least shall be light!
[She throws the torch in through the opening in the gable and
falls down on the ground.—INGEBORG and HEMMING come hurriedly
from behind the house.]
HEMMING. Now it is time. The horse stands saddled behind the
store house.
INGEBORG. And all the servants are down at the church, are they not?
HEMMING. Aye, rest you assured; and in the banquet house I have barred every shutter and door with heavy iron rings; no one can get out!
INGEBORG. Away, then! Up to the valley which Alfhild has told of!
HEMMING. Yes, up there! There no one will seek us!
[They rush out to the left.—ALFHILD continues to lie motionless for some time. Suddenly cries and commotion are hear in the bridal house; the flames break out through the roof.]
ALFHILD. [Jumps up in despair.]
It burns!—Aha,—I remember! 'T was here
Too dark for my soul—it filled me with fear!
Olaf, before it was you who smiled,
Now it is Alfhild, so gay and so wild!—
In the bridal house there is anguish and gloom,
The bride is burning on the arm of the groom!
[The HOUSE SERVANTS rush in one by one without torches and stand as if turned to stone. OLAF comes into view up in the opening, which he seeks to widen with desperate efforts.]