[He goes out to the right by the tarn.]
* * *
* *
[OLAF. ALFHILD.]
OLAF. Ah, if it were—for certain
I cannot doubt it. Alfhild herself said that
her father played such music that no one who heard
it could ever forget. He mentioned Lady Ingrid
who disappeared on the eve of her wedding many years
ago,—there was a young minstrel named Thorgjerd
who loved her, so went the story. Many a strange
tale was afterwards current about him; at times he
stood right in the midst of the village and played
so beautifully that all who heard it had to weep;
but no one knew where he made his home. Alfhild—yes,
she is his child! Here she has grown up, here
in this desolate valley, which no one has known of
by name for many a year; and Ingrid, who disappeared—indeed,
he said—
[Becomes aware of ALFHILD.]
OLAF. Alfhild! There she is! In
her wedding garments she has fled up here. Here
then shall you awaken after the bridal night; so sorry
a day to you was my day of honor. You wished
to go out into life, you said; you wanted to learn
to know all the love in the world. So sorry
a journey you had, but I swear it shall all be well
again. She moves; it is as if she were writhing
in sorrow and anguish;—when you awaken,
it shall be to joy and delight!
ALFHILD. [Still half in dreams.]
It burns! Oh, save him,—he is within!
He must not die! Life anew he must win!
[She jumps up in fright; the music ceases.]
ALFHILD. Where am I! He stands here before
me, it seems!
Olaf Liljekrans! save me from my dreams!
OLAF. Alfhild! take heart, here you need fear
no harm!
ALFHILD. [Moves away, fearfully and apprehensively.]
You think with sweet words my soul to beguile?
In your heart there is evil, though with lips you
may smile,
On me you shall nevermore practice your charm!
OLAF. Alfhild! be calm, do not start;
’Tis Olaf I am, the friend of your heart!
Unkind I have been, I have treated you ill;
But deep in my heart I was faithful to you!
I was blind and deluded and weak of will,—
And thus I did wound you far more than I knew!
O, can you forgive me? Alfhild, you must,—
I swear to you I shall be worthy your trust!
I shall bear you aloft and smooth your way,
And kiss from your cheek the tears of dole,
The grief in your heart I shall try to allay,
And heal the wound that burns in your soul!
ALFHILD. I know you too well and your cunning
disguise.
Since last I did see you I too have grown wise.
You would have me believe with your wily speech
It is you for whom I now suffer and languish.
You would have me believe it was you that did teach
Me to revel in joy and to writhe in anguish.
’Twill profit you little, I know you too well,
Whether early or late you come to my dell.
I know you too well; for deceit on your brow
I can read. Not so was the other, I vow!
