FALK.
I feel myself like God's lost prodigal;
I left Him for the world's delusive charms.
With mild reproof He wooed me to His arms;
And when I come, He lights the vaulted hall,
Prepares a banquet for the son restored,
And makes His noblest creature my reward.
From this time forth I'll never leave that Light,—
But stand its armed defender in the fight;
Nothing shall part us, and our life shall prove
A song of glory to triumphant love!
SVANHILD.
And see how easy triumph is for two,
When He's a man—
FALK.
She, woman thro' and thro';—
It is impossible for such to fall!
SVANHILD.
Then up, and to the war with want and sorrow;
This very hour I will declare it all!
[Pointing to FALK's ring on her finger.
FALK [hastily].
No, Svanhild, not to-night, wait till to-morrow!
To-night we gather our young love's red rose;
'Twere sacrilege to smirch it with the prose
Of common day.
[The door into the garden-room opens.
Your mother's coming! Hide!
No eye this night shall see thee as my bride!
[They go out among the trees by the summer-house.
MRS. HALM and GULDSTAD come out on the balcony.
MRS. HALM.
He's really going?
GULDSTAD.
Seems so, I admit.
STIVER [coming].
He's going, madam!
MRS. HALM.
We're aware of it!