SCENE NINTH.
[At a cross-road.]
Peer Gynt.
Now comes the pinch, Peer, as never before!
This Dovrish Enough has passed judgment upon you.
The vessel’s a wreck; one must float with the spars.
All else; but to go to the scrap-heap—no, no!
The Button-moulder.
[At the cross-road.]
Well now, Peer Gynt, have you found your voucher?
Peer.
Is this, then, the cross-road? Well, that is short work!
The Button-moulder.
I can see on your face, as it were on a sign-board,
The gist of the paper before I have read it.
Peer.
I got tired of the hunt;—one might lose one’s way——
The Button-moulder.
Yes; and what does it lead to, after all?
Peer.
True enough; in the wood, and by night as well——
The Button-moulder.
There’s an old man, though, trudging. Shall we call him here?
Peer.
No, let him go. He is drunk, my dear fellow!
The Button-moulder.
But perhaps he might——
Peer.
Hush; no—let him alone!
The Button-moulder.
Well, shall we begin then?
Peer.
One question—just one:
What is it, at bottom, this “being oneself”?
The Button-moulder.
A singular question, most odd in the mouth
Of a man who but now——
Peer.
Come, a straightforward answer.
The Button-moulder.
To be oneself is: to slay oneself.
But on you that answer is doubtless lost;
And therefore we’ll say: to stand forth everywhere
With Master’s intention displayed like a sign-board.
Peer.
But suppose a man never has come to know
What Master meant with him?
The Button-moulder.
He must divine it.
Peer.
But how oft are divinings beside the mark,—
Then one’s carried “ad undas”[[138]] in middle career.
The Button-moulder.
That is certain, Peer Gynt; in default of divining
The cloven-hoofed gentleman finds his best hook.
Peer.
This matter’s excessively complicated.—
See here! I no longer plead being myself;—
It might not be easy to get it proven.
That part of my case I must look on as lost.
But just now, as I wandered alone o’er the heath,
I felt my conscience-shoe pinching me;
I said to myself: After all, you’re a sinner——
The Button-moulder.
You seem bent on beginning all over again——
Peer.
No, very far from it; a great one I mean;
Not only in deeds, but in words and desires.
I’ve lived a most damnable life abroad——
The Button-moulder.
Perhaps; I must ask you to show me the schedule!
Peer.
Well well, give me time; I will find out a parson,
Confess with all speed, and then bring you his voucher.
The Button-moulder.
Ay, if you can bring me that, then it is clear
You may yet escape from the casting-ladle.
But Peer, I’d my orders——
Peer.
The paper is old;
It dates no doubt from a long past period;—
At one time I lived with disgusting slackness,
Went playing the prophet, and trusted in Fate.
Well, may I try?
The Button-moulder.
But——!
Peer.
My dear, good man,
I’m sure you can’t have so much to do.
Here, in this district, the air is so bracing,
It adds an ell to the people’s ages.
Recollect what the Justedal parson wrote:
“It’s seldom that any one dies in this valley.”
The Button-moulder.
To the next cross-roads then; but not a step further.
Peer.
A priest I must catch, if it be with the tongs.
[He starts running.