See, I have no friend, no mate, By all abandoned, I make war on all: At me they aim the piercing shafts of hate; Say, do you dare with me to stand or fall? Henceforth along the beaten walks I’ll move Heedful of each constraining etiquette; Spread, like the rest of men, my board, and set The ring upon the finger of my love! [_Takes a ring from his finger and holds it up._ SVANHILD [in breathless suspense]. You mean _that_? FALK. Yes, by us the world shall see, Love has an everlasting energy, That suffers not its splendour to take hurt From the day’s dust, the common highway’s dirt. Last night I showed you the ideal aflame, Beaconing from a dizzy mountain’s brow. You shuddered, for you were a woman,—now I show you woman’s veritable aim;— A soul like yours, what it has vowed, will keep. You see the abyss before you,—Svanhild, leap! SVANHILD [_almost inaudibly_]. If we should fail—! FALK [_exulting_]. No, in your eyes I see A gleam that surely prophesies our winning! SVANHILD. Then take me as I am, take all of me! Now buds the young leaf; now my spring’s beginning! [_She flings herself boldly into his arms as the curtain falls._ ACT THIRD. _Evening. Bright moonlight. Coloured lanterns are hung about the trees. In the background are covered tables with bottles, glasses, biscuits, etc. From the house, which is lighted up from top to bottom, subdued music and singing are heard during the following scene._ SVANHILD _stands on the verandah._ FALK _comes from the right with some books and a portfolio under his arm. The_ PORTER _follows with a portmanteau and a knapsack._ FALK. That’s all, then? PORTER. Yes, sir, all is in the pack, But just a satchel, and the paletot. FALK. Good; when I go, I’ll take them on my back. Now off. See, this is the portfolio. PORTER. It’s locked, I see. FALK. Locked, Peter. PORTER. Good, sir. FALK. Pray, Make haste and burn it. PORTER.