SCENE VIII
[HEMMING. Shortly afterwards OLAF Liljekrans from the, background. The moon rises.]
HEMMING. The golden ring unto me she has granted, Then still is she true, I am not deceived! 'Twas only in jest that she scolded and ranted As though she were bitterly grieved. All will I venture, no more will I dread!
HEMMING. [Despondent.] And yet, I am only a penniless swain, And early tomorrow is she to be wed!
HEMMING. [Quickly.] But into the forest the bridegroom is fled; O, if he should never come home again!
HEMMING. [Starts to rush out, but stops with a cry.] Olaf! there is he!
[OLAF comes slowly forward between the rocks in the background. He walks dreaming, his head uncovered, and his hands full of flowers which he tears to pieces and scatters on the way; his whole behavior during the following indicates an unsettled mind.]
OLAF. [Without noticing HEMMING.] If only I knew What she meant, could somehow the riddle unravel!
[Starts to go out to the left.]
HEMMING. Lord Olaf! Lord Olaf! O where do you travel? O hear me, Lord Olaf!
OLAF. [Half awakening.] Hemming! Is it you? Stand not in my way!
HEMMING. What is it that weighs On your mind, that you wander in here for three days?
[Observes him more closely.]
HEMMING. And what is the game that here you do play,— Your cheek is white, and your forehead is gray!
OLAF. Be not so amazed that my cheek is white, Three nights have I fought so strange a fight; Be not so amazed that my forehead is gray, Three nights have I been in the elfen play.
HEMMING. Heaven protect us!
OLAF. I am ill, I am faint! I remember neither devil nor saint!
HEMMING. [Apprehensively.] Come, Olaf, with me to your mother's estate!
OLAF. My mother's estate! Where stood it of late? 'Tis here, as it seems, that I have my home! The wood has become my ancestral hall, The river's roaring, the pine-trees' moan, Is sweeter to me than my mother's call.
OLAF. [With increasing rapture.] Aye, here it is quiet! Aye, here it is fair! Behold, my hall for the feast I prepare.
HEMMING. [Aside.] O what has come o'er him?
OLAF. Soon comes my bride!
HEMMING. Your bride! Then you know—?
OLAF. [Continuing.] When the day has died, When slumber the birds, when fades the cloud, Then here will she come so young and so proud!
HEMMING. [Crosses himself.] All heavenly saints! I fear the worst!