"Silence!" now exclaimed Petra herself; she was already deep in the acting, for the devilish monk had come forward with a sword, the two lovers had to hold a handkerchief and he rent it asunder between them,--as the church rent, as grief rent, as the sword over the gate of paradise rent that first day. Weeping maidens took the red wreath from the bride, and replaced it with a white one; thereby she was sealed to the cloister for life. He to whom she belonged in time and eternity, he should know her to be alive, yet lost to him, know her to be within, yet never see her; now dilacerating the farewell they took, there was no greater suffering upon earth than theirs!--
"Mercy," whispered the old lady, when the curtain fell: "don't be so foolish; you know it is only Madame Naso, the director's wife." Petra stared at the old lady, she thought she must be crazy and as the latter had long thought the same of her, they continued to look a little askance at each other, but did not speak any more.
Petra could not follow the scene when the curtain rose; the bride within the convent, and the bridegroom day and night in doubt without the walls, was what she saw, she suffered their suffering, she prayed their prayers; but that which took place before her eyes, passed unheeded by. An ominous silence fell over all, and this brought her to herself; the church seemed to grow larger, the twelve strokes of the clocks sounded in empty space; it rumbled under the arches, the walls shook, St. Olaf had risen from his tomb, and wrapped in a winding sheet, tall and awful, a spear in his hand, he strode along: the sentinels flee, the thunder peels, the monk is pierced by the outstretched lance; then all is darkness, and the apparition disappears. But where the lightning struck, the monk lies as a heap of ashes.
Without being aware of it, Petra had caught fast hold of the old lady, and grasped her so tightly, that she alarmed her, and seeing Petra's increasing paleness, she exclaimed: "Why my dear child, it is only Knutsen; that is the only part he can play, he speaks so broad."--"No, no, no," said Petra, "I saw flames round about him, and the whole church shook beneath his tread!"--"Be quiet there!" was heard from several quarters; "Out with those who can't be quiet!"--"Silence in the gallery!" cried the parquet; "Silence!" replied the gallery.--Petra had crept together as if to hide herself, but she soon forgot them altogether; for see! there are the lovers again, the lightning has opened their way, they will escape! They have found each other, they embrace; Heaven protect them!
Then a tumult arises, a sound of voices and trumpets, the bridegroom is torn from her side, they are fighting for their country, he is wounded, and dying he greets his bride, ... Petra first understands what has happened, when the bride enters softly, and sees him dead! It is as if the clouds of grief would gather over a single spot, but a glance dispels them: the bride looks up from the dead man's side, and prays that she too may die! The heavens open at her glance, the lightning flashes, the bridal hall is above; let the bride in! Yes,--already she can see within; for her eyes shed a blessed peace, like that upon the mountain tops. Then the eyelids close: the battle had a higher solution, their constancy a brighter crowning; she was now with him.
Petra sat a long time still: her heart was lifted in faith, and the strength of the Highest filled her soul. She rose up, above all that was small, above fear and pain, rose with smiles to all,--were they not brothers and sisters; the evil that separates was not present, it was crushed under the thunder. They laughed at her in return, that was the girl that had been half mad at the play;--but in their smiles, she saw only a reflection of the victory she herself had gained. In this confidence, that they were smiling in participation with her joy, her face bore so radiant an expression, that they could not resist it, and they smiled her smile in return; she passed down the broad stairs between the people who made way for her on both sides, returning joy for her joy, and beauty for the beauty which beamed upon them. There are times when our souls shine forth in such resplendence, that we shed a brightness on all about us, though we ourselves cannot see. The greatest triumphal procession in the world, is this, to be led, upheld, and followed by one's own refulgent thoughts.
When, without knowing how, she arrived at home, she asked what it had all been. There were some present, who were able to understand her, and give her a satisfactory reply; and when she had got a real appreciation of what the drama was, and of what great actors had in their power, she rose and said: "There is nothing greater than this upon earth, and this I must be."
To their astonishment she put on her things and went out again; she must be alone, and in the open air. She went away from the town, and out to the adjacent promontory,--the wind was high, and the sea lashed up beneath her;--the town on both sides of the bay lay enveloped in a light mist, behind which the innumerable lights with all their endeavours could do no more than lighten the fog they could not lift.
This was the image of her soul.
The great darkness, in its damp surge beneath her feet, gave warning of an impenetrable deep; it behoved her to sink down thither, or rise in the attempt to lighten it. She asked herself why she had never before felt these thoughts, and she answered, because it was the moments only that had power over her, but then she felt that she had also power over them. She saw it now: as many moments would be given her, as there were flickering lights yonder, and she prayed God that she might perfect them all, that so His love might have kindled no light in vain.