SCENE FIFTH.
A hillside, wooded with great soughing trees. Stars are gleaming through the leaves; birds are singing in the tree-tops.
A Green-clad Woman is crossing the hillside; Peer Gynt follows her, with all sorts of lover-like antics.
The Green-clad One.
[Stops and turns round.]
Is it true?
Peer.
[Drawing his finger across his throat.]
As true as my name is Peer;—
As true as that you are a lovely woman!
Will you have me? You’ll see what a fine man I’ll be;
You shall neither tread the loom nor turn the spindle.
You shall eat all you want, till you’re ready to burst.
I never will drag you about by the hair——
The Green-clad One.
Nor beat me!
Peer.
No, can you think I would!
We kings’ sons never beat women and such.
The Green-clad One.
You’re a king’s son?[son?]
Peer.
Yes.
The Green-clad One.
I’m the Dovrë-King’s daughter.
Peer.
Are you! See there, now, how well that fits in!
The Green-clad One.
Deep in the Rondë has father his palace.
Peer.
My mother’s is bigger, or much I’m mistaken.
The Green-clad One.
Do you know my father? His name is King Brosë.[[50]]
Peer.
Do you know my mother? Her name is Queen Åsë.
The Green-clad One.
When my father is angry the mountains are riven.
Peer.
They reel when my mother by chance falls a-scolding.
The Green-clad One.
My father can kick e’en the loftiest roof-tree.[[51]]
Peer.
My mother can ride through the rapidest river.
The Green-clad One.
Have you other garments besides those rags?
Peer.
Ho, you should just see my Sunday clothes!
The Green-clad One.
My week-day gown is of gold and silk.
Peer.
It looks to me liker tow and straws.
The Green-clad One.
Ay, there is one thing you must remember:—
This is the Rondë-folk’s use and wont:
All our possessions have two-fold form.
When shall you come to my father’s hall,
It well may chance that you’re on the point
Of thinking you stand in a dismal moraine.
Peer.
Well now, with us it’s[it’s] precisely the same.
Our gold will seem to you litter and trash!
And you’ll think, mayhap, every glittering pane
Is nought but a bunch of old stockings and clouts.
The Green-clad One.
Black it seems white, and ugly seems fair.
Peer.
Big it seems little, and dirty seems clean.
The Green-clad One.
[Falling on his neck.]
Ay, Peer, now I see that we fit, you and I!
Peer.
Like the leg and the trouser, the hair and the comb.
The Green-clad One.
[Calls away over the hillside.]
Bridal-steed! Bridal-steed! Come, bridal-steed mine!
[A gigantic pig comes running in with a rope’s end for a bridle and an old sack for a saddle. Peer Gynt vaults on its back, and seats the Green-clad One in front of him.
Peer.
Hark-away! Through the Rondë-gate gallop we in!
Gee-up, gee-up, my courser fine!
The Green-clad One.
[Tenderly.]
Ah, but lately I wandered and moped and pined—
One never can tell what may happen to one!
Peer.
[Thrashing the pig and trotting off.]
You may know the great by their riding gear!