The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 04 (of 11)Ibsen, Henrik
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The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 04 (of 11)
Ibsen, Henrik
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Translations into English; Norwegian drama -- Translations into English
There’s some one after me;—Ay, are you that sort,
Old Hegstad-churl; would you play me false?
[_Crouches behind the tree, and peeps over it._
A lad! One only. He seems afraid.
He peers all round him. What’s that he hides
’Neath his jacket? A sickle. He stops and looks round,—
Now he lays his hand on a fence-rail flat.
What’s this now? Why does he lean like that——?
Ugh, ugh! Why, he’s chopped his finger off!
A whole finger off!—He bleeds like an ox.—
Now he takes to his heels with his fist in a clout.
[_Rises._
What a devil of a lad! An unmendable[59] finger!
Right off! And with no one compelling him to it!
Ho, now I remember! It’s only thus
You can ’scape from having to serve the King.
That’s it. They wanted to send him soldiering,
And of course the lad didn’t want to go.—
But to chop off——? To sever for good and all——?
Ay, think of it—wish it done—will it to boot,—
But do it——! No, that’s past my understanding!
[_Shakes his head a little; then goes on with his work._
SCENE SECOND.
_A room in ÅSE’S house. Everything in disorder; boxes standing
open; wearing apparel strewn around. A cat is lying on the
bed._
_ÅSE and the COTTAR’S WIFE are hard at work packing things
together and putting them straight._
ÅSE.
[_Running to one side._]
Kari, come here!
KARI.
What now?
ÅSE.
[_On the other side._]
Come here——?
Where is——? Where shall I find——? Tell me where——?
What am I seeking? I’m out of my wits!
Where is the key of the chest?
KARI.
In the key hole.
ÅSE.
What is that rumbling?
KARI.
The last cart-load
They’re driving to Hegstad.
ÅSE.
[_Weeping._]
How glad I’d be
In the black chest myself to be driven away!
Oh, what must a mortal abide and live through!
God help me in mercy; The whole house is bare!
What the Hegstad-churl left now the Bailiff[60] has taken.
Not even the clothes on my back have they spared.
Fie! Shame on them all that have judged so hardly!
[_Seats herself on the edge of the bed._
Both the land and the farm-place are lost to our line;
The old man was hard, but the law was still harder;—
There was no one to help me, and none would show mercy;
Peer was away; not a soul to give counsel.
KARI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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