ALFHILD. On shavings and hay?
OLAF. That is all there is here!
ALFHILD. And where is the elf who bears on his
arm
The child far away from all earthly harm?
OLAF. I see but a mother whose heart will break,
And little children who follow the wake.
ALFHILD. And where are the pearls of blue and
of white,
That the angels strew in the heaven of light?
OLAF. I see only this,—they weep
many a tear
As they stand at the side of the bier.
ALFHILD. And where is the home, the house of
God,
Where the dead dream only of mirth?
OLAF. Behold! Now they place him beneath
the sod
And cover him over with earth.
ALFHILD. [Quiet and thoughtful, after a pause.]
Not so was death in the song—not so.
OLAF. ’Tis true; but no such joy and pleasure
Has any one felt here below.—
Have you never heard of the mountain king’s
treasure,
Which night after night like gold would glow;
But if you would seize the gold in your hand,
You nothing would find save gravel and sand;
And listen, Alfhild! it often is true
That life turns out in the selfsame way;
Approach not too near, it may happen to you,
That you burn your fingers some day.
’Tis true it may shine like a heavenly star,
But only when seen from afar.
[He becomes aware of Lady Kirsten off the stage to
the right.]
OLAF. My mother—she’ll tell
you—I shall depart.
The angels above send their peace to your heart!
[He goes towards the house but is stopped by LADY
KIRSTEN.—The sky becomes overcast with
dark clouds; the wind begins to howl in the tree-tops.—ALFHILD
stands absorbed in deep thought.]
* * *
* *
[The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN.]
LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly.] Not so, my son, you have
told her—?
OLAF. All I was able to say I have said.
Now you tell her the rest, and then, mother, let
me never, never see her again.
[He casts a glance at ALFHILD and goes out past the
house.]
LADY KIRSTEN. That folly will soon be burned
out of his soul, if—
LADY KIRSTEN. [As if she suddenly has an idea.]
But in case I—Ah, if that could succeed,
then would he be cured,—that I can promise.
But Alfhild—? Well, nevertheless, it
must be attempted.
ALFHILD. [To herself.]
So then there is here too anguish and
woe;
Well, so let it be; I shall never despair.
The sorrow of earth I never need know,
Still Olaf is good and fair!
LADY KIRSTEN. [Approaches.] It seems to me that
gloomy thoughts are weighing upon your mind.
ALFHILD. Yes, yes, the result of things I have
recently heard.
LADY KIRSTEN. From Olaf?
ALFHILD. Certainly from Olaf; he has told me—
