Sigurd. And if he sees our lights, Mother, will he come to our house?
Olga. Yes, dear, and when you hear him say: “Behold I stand at the door and knock——” (She passes glass of punch to Liljekrona.)
Liljekrona. (Ignoring it, and meeting her glance with a steady gaze) “And if any man hear my voice and will open the door, I will come in and sup with him, and he with me.” Your candles are too late. The door is closed. The voice is gone. (Rises and exits slowly to his room.)
Oswald. (After a pause) Why did Father go away, Mother?
Halla. Is it anything the matter with the punch, Ma’am?
Olga. (Hesitating) No, Halla, it’s not the punch—I think he’s not—very happy——
Sigurd. Won’t he come back, Mother? Who will tell us stories?
(Wild music is heard from Liljekrona’s room. It rises and falls in passionate rushes and casts a spell over those who listen.)
Olga. (Rising suddenly at the sound) He is playing. Why—he has not played like that since he came home. It is his great heart full of revolt from all that is small about us. “You thought to bind me,” he is saying, “you thought to make me as small-minded as yourselves.” Oh, I was wrong! I thought to shut out unhappiness, but with it I have shut out love. To-morrow he will be gone, if God does not work a miracle in the night. (She sinks into her chair and covers her face with her hands. The boys sit quite still and look with awe at their mother. Halla wrings her hands in a half-understanding and miserable way.)
(Sleighbells are heard. Halla goes to the window.)