ARNE. [Calls outside to the left.] Hemming!
Hemming!
LADY KIRSTEN. [Comes forward.] Your master calls!
Go now! After a while I shall speak to him;
he will agree. Believe me, he shall follow his
page to the church in the same hour that he leads
his daughter thither.
HEMMING. Thanks, thanks, Lady Kirsten!
Truly, you confer a blessing on us all.
[He goes out to the left.]
LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] So young she is and
yet so cunning; she has been coquetting with Hemming
all the while she made my son believe that—Well
and good, he shall soon learn to know her arts.
But first I must see Lord Arne; he thinks highly of
Hemming and would reluctantly part with him; it seemed
too that Hemming feared that something like that might
stand in the way; but they can easily remain as they
are even if Hemming marries.—Hemming sees
more clearly in the affair than I had expected.
What will Olaf say, he asked; he has evidently noticed
that my son still thinks of Alfhild. Well, let
him; if he takes her he will say nothing, and when
Alfhild is married,—I know Olaf; he has
always wanted to stand in high honor among the men
of the village, and for that reason he will certainly—yes,
yes, it must, it shall succeed.
[She goes out to the right.]
* * *
* *
[HEMMING comes from the left with a bowl of ale hidden
under his coat. ARNE follows him cautiously,
looking about.]
ARNE. Is there anyone?
HEMMING. No, come along, master.
ARNE. But it seemed to me I heard Lady Kirsten.
HEMMING. She is gone now, come along!
ARNE. [Sits down on the bench to the left.] Hemming!
it is well that the wedding is to be held tonight.
Tomorrow I go home; yes, that I will. Not a
day longer will I remain in Lady Kirsten’s house.
HEMMING. Why, master! is there enmity again
between you?
ARNE. Is it not enough, do you think, that she
and all her superior relatives look down on me; at
supper they laughed and jested among themselves because
I could not bring myself to eat of all those ungodly,
outlandish dishes. And what was it that we got
to drink? Sweet wine and cider that will stay
in my stomach for eight days. No, the good old
homebrewed ale for me.
[Drinks and adds softly and bitterly.]
ARNE. Of this I had sent the wretched woman
three full barrels. And what has she done?
Thrown it to her servants, and here I must steal
myself a drink,—yes, Hemming! steal myself
a drink of my own ale, that they may not revile me
as a coarse peasant, who doesn’t understand
the more refined drinks.
HEMMING. Well, master! I gave you warning.
ARNE. Ah—gave me warning! You
are stupid, Hemming! You think
I haven’t noticed it myself; but wait, just
wait!
