Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne, 1832-1910 -- Translations into English; Comedy plays
Alfred. Yes, do!
Svava. No, I forgot--I must learn this song before father comes back. If
I don't learn it now, I expect you will take care I don't do so to-day.
(A ring is heard at the front door.)
Alfred. Here is some one coming! Let me get away first. (Hurries out to
the right. SVAVA stands waving her hand to him, then turns to the piano.
The maid MARGIT enters.)
Margit. A gentleman has called, miss, who wants to know if--
Svava. A gentleman? Don't you know who he is?
Margit. No, miss.
Svava. What is he like?
Margit. He looks rather--
Svava. Rather suspicious?
Margit. No, far from it, miss--a very nice gentleman.
Svava. Tell him my father is not at home; he has gone down to the
station.
Margit. I told him so, miss, but it is you he wants to see.
Svava. Ask my mother to come in here!--Oh, no, why should she! Let him
come in. (MARGIT shows in HOFF, and goes out.)
Hoff. Is it Miss Riis I have the honour to--? Yes, I see it is. My name
is Hoff--Karl Hoff. I am a commercial traveller--travel in iron.
Svava. But what has that to do with me?
Hoff. Just this much, that if I had been an ordinary stay-at-home man, a
great many things would not have happened.
Svava. What would not have happened?
Hoff (taking a large pocket-book out of his docket, and extracting a
letter from it). Will you condescend to read this? Or perhaps you would
rather not?
Svava. How can I tell?
Hoff. Of course, you must first--Allow me. (Gives her the letter.)
Svava (reading). "To-night between ten and eleven that is to say, if the
booby has not come home. I love you so dearly! Put a light in the hall
window."
Hoff. "The booby" is me.
Svava. But I don't understand--?
Hoff. Here is another.
Svava. "I am full of remorse. Your cough frightens me; and now, when you
are expecting--" But what in the world has this to do with me?
Hoff (after a moment's thought). What do you suppose?
Svava. Is it some one you want me to help?
Hoff. No, poor soul, she doesn't need help any more. She is dead.
Svava. Dead? Was she your wife?
Hoff. That's it. She was my wife. I found these and come other things
in a little box. At the bottom were these notes--there are more of
them--and some cotton wool on the top of them. On the top of that lay
some earrings and things that had been her mother's. And also (producing
some bracelets) these bracelets. They are certainly much too costly to
have been her mother's.
Svava. I suppose she died suddenly, as she did not--
Hoff. I cannot say. Consumptives never think they are going to die.
Anyway she was very delicate and weak.--May I sit down?
Svava. Please do. Are there any children?
Hoff (after a moment's thought). I believe not.
Svava. You believe not? I asked because I thought you wanted our Society
to help you. This really is all very distressful to me.
Hoff. I thought it would be--I thought as much. Besides, I am not really
sure if I--. You cannot understand this, then?
Svava. No, I cannot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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