The Lady From The Sea [21]
a work of art.
Wangel. I don't understand one word.
Ellida. You shall hear afterwards.
(ARNHOLM and BOLETTE come from the left along the footpath outside the garden.)
Bolette (to those in the garden). Do come and see! The great English steamer's just going up the fjord.
(A large steamer glides slowly past in the distance.)
Lyngstrand (to HILDE behind the garden fence). Tonight he's sure to come to her.
Hilde (nods). To the faithless sailor-wife--yes.
Lyngstrand. Fancy, at midnight!
Hilde. That must be so fascinating.
Ellida (looking after the ship). Tomorrow, then!
Wangel. And then never again.
Ellida (in a low, imploring tone). Oh! Wangel, save me from myself!
Wangel (looks anxiously at her). Ellida--I feel there is something behind this--
Ellida. There is--the temptation!
Wangel. Temptation?
Ellida. The man is like the sea!
(She goes slowly and thoughtfully through the garden, and out to the left. WANGEL walks uneasily by her side, watching her closely.)
ACT IV
(SCENE.--DOCTOR WANGEL'S garden-room. Doors right and left. In the background, between the windows, an open glass door leading out on to the verandah. Below this, a portion of the garden is visible. A sofa and table down left. To the right a piano, and farther back a large flower-stand. In the middle of the room a round table, with chairs. On the table is a rose-tree in bloom, and other plants around it. Morning.
In the room, by the table, BOLETTE is sitting on the sofa, busy with some embroidery. LYNGSTRAND is seated on a chair at the upper end of the table. In the garden below BALLESTED sits painting. HILDE stands by watching him.)
Lyngstrand (with his arms on the table, sits silent awhile, looking at BOLETTE'S work). It must be awfully difficult to do a border like that, Miss Wangel?
Bolette. Oh, no! It's not very difficult, if only you take care to count right.
Lyngstrand. To count? Must you count, too?
Bolette. Yes, the stiches. See!
Lyngstrand. So you do! Just fancy! Why, it's almost a kind of art. Can you design, too?
Bolette. Oh, yes! When I've a copy.
Lyngstrand. Not unless?
Bolette. No.
Lyngstrand. Well, then, after all, it's not a real art?
Bolette. No; it is rather only a sort of--handicraft.
Lyngstrand. But still, I think that perhaps you could learn art.
Bolette. If I haven't any talent?
Lyngstrand. Yes; if you could always be with a real true artist--
Bolette. Do you think, then, I could learn it from him?
Lyngstrand. Not exactly learn in the ordinary sense; but I think it would grow upon you little by little--by a kind of miracle as it were, Miss Wangel.
Bolette. That would be wonderful.
Lyngstrand (after a pause). Have you ever thought about--I mean, have you ever thought deeply and earnestly about marriage, Miss Wangel?
Bolette (looking quickly at him). About--no!
Lyngstrand. I have.
Bolette. Really? Have you?
Lyngstrand. Oh yes! I often think about things of that sort, especially about marriage; and, besides, I've read several books about it. I think marriage must be counted a sort of miracle-- that a woman should gradually change until she is like her husband.
Bolette. You mean has like interests?
Lyngstrand. Yes, that's it.
Bolette. Well, but his abilities--his talents--and his skill?
Lyngstrand. Hm--well--I should like to know if all that too--
Bolette. Then, perhaps, you also believe that everything a man has read for himself, and thought out for himself, that this, too, can grow upon his wife?
Lyngstrand. Yes, I think it can. Little by little; as by a sort of miracle. But, of course, I know such things can only happen in a marriage that is faithful, and loving, and really happy.
Bolette. Has it never occurred to you that a man, too, might, perhaps, be thus drawn over to his wife? Grow like her, I mean.
Lyngstrand. A man? No, I never thought of that.
Bolette. But why not one as well as the other?
Lyngstrand. No; for a man has a calling that he lives for; and that's what makes a man so strong
Wangel. I don't understand one word.
Ellida. You shall hear afterwards.
(ARNHOLM and BOLETTE come from the left along the footpath outside the garden.)
Bolette (to those in the garden). Do come and see! The great English steamer's just going up the fjord.
(A large steamer glides slowly past in the distance.)
Lyngstrand (to HILDE behind the garden fence). Tonight he's sure to come to her.
Hilde (nods). To the faithless sailor-wife--yes.
Lyngstrand. Fancy, at midnight!
Hilde. That must be so fascinating.
Ellida (looking after the ship). Tomorrow, then!
Wangel. And then never again.
Ellida (in a low, imploring tone). Oh! Wangel, save me from myself!
Wangel (looks anxiously at her). Ellida--I feel there is something behind this--
Ellida. There is--the temptation!
Wangel. Temptation?
Ellida. The man is like the sea!
(She goes slowly and thoughtfully through the garden, and out to the left. WANGEL walks uneasily by her side, watching her closely.)
ACT IV
(SCENE.--DOCTOR WANGEL'S garden-room. Doors right and left. In the background, between the windows, an open glass door leading out on to the verandah. Below this, a portion of the garden is visible. A sofa and table down left. To the right a piano, and farther back a large flower-stand. In the middle of the room a round table, with chairs. On the table is a rose-tree in bloom, and other plants around it. Morning.
In the room, by the table, BOLETTE is sitting on the sofa, busy with some embroidery. LYNGSTRAND is seated on a chair at the upper end of the table. In the garden below BALLESTED sits painting. HILDE stands by watching him.)
Lyngstrand (with his arms on the table, sits silent awhile, looking at BOLETTE'S work). It must be awfully difficult to do a border like that, Miss Wangel?
Bolette. Oh, no! It's not very difficult, if only you take care to count right.
Lyngstrand. To count? Must you count, too?
Bolette. Yes, the stiches. See!
Lyngstrand. So you do! Just fancy! Why, it's almost a kind of art. Can you design, too?
Bolette. Oh, yes! When I've a copy.
Lyngstrand. Not unless?
Bolette. No.
Lyngstrand. Well, then, after all, it's not a real art?
Bolette. No; it is rather only a sort of--handicraft.
Lyngstrand. But still, I think that perhaps you could learn art.
Bolette. If I haven't any talent?
Lyngstrand. Yes; if you could always be with a real true artist--
Bolette. Do you think, then, I could learn it from him?
Lyngstrand. Not exactly learn in the ordinary sense; but I think it would grow upon you little by little--by a kind of miracle as it were, Miss Wangel.
Bolette. That would be wonderful.
Lyngstrand (after a pause). Have you ever thought about--I mean, have you ever thought deeply and earnestly about marriage, Miss Wangel?
Bolette (looking quickly at him). About--no!
Lyngstrand. I have.
Bolette. Really? Have you?
Lyngstrand. Oh yes! I often think about things of that sort, especially about marriage; and, besides, I've read several books about it. I think marriage must be counted a sort of miracle-- that a woman should gradually change until she is like her husband.
Bolette. You mean has like interests?
Lyngstrand. Yes, that's it.
Bolette. Well, but his abilities--his talents--and his skill?
Lyngstrand. Hm--well--I should like to know if all that too--
Bolette. Then, perhaps, you also believe that everything a man has read for himself, and thought out for himself, that this, too, can grow upon his wife?
Lyngstrand. Yes, I think it can. Little by little; as by a sort of miracle. But, of course, I know such things can only happen in a marriage that is faithful, and loving, and really happy.
Bolette. Has it never occurred to you that a man, too, might, perhaps, be thus drawn over to his wife? Grow like her, I mean.
Lyngstrand. A man? No, I never thought of that.
Bolette. But why not one as well as the other?
Lyngstrand. No; for a man has a calling that he lives for; and that's what makes a man so strong