by Henrik Ibsen
ARNHOLM: You never wrote.
ELLIDA: What was the point? Anyway, you never wrote to me after you left.
ARNHOLM: Me? It wasn’t up to me to take the first step. Not after –
Pause.
ELLIDA: You’ve never thought of marrying? There must have been someone who took your –
ARNHOLM: I’m the faithful sort.
ELLIDA: Oh, Arnholm! Find another woman! Someone to make you happy.
ARNHOLM: I’ll have to buck up, I’m nearly forty.
ELLIDA: Hurry up then. (She goes silent.)
ARNHOLM: What is it?
ELLIDA: I need to talk to you.
ARNHOLM: Why? Is something the matter?
ELLIDA: There’s something you should know. At the time I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t.
ARNHOLM: Tell me what?
ELLIDA: That I was in love with someone else. At the time when you – when we were…
ARNHOLM: When –
ELLIDA: When you asked me to marry you.
ARNHOLM: But you didn’t know him back then, on Skjoldvik.
ELLIDA: I’m not talking about Wangel.
ARNHOLM: Who then? There was no-one else out there.
ELLIDA: I was mad. Insane.
ARNHOLM: Who was it?
ELLIDA: I just wanted you to know that there was someone else at the time. That’s why I –
ARNHOLM: You’re saying that if you weren’t – if you hadn’t been in love with someone else then you might have…we might have –
ELLIDA: Who knows? Anyway, by the time Wangel came along things were different.
ARNHOLM: Why are you telling me now?
ELLIDA: (Rises, nervous.) Because I must tell someone – no, please, don’t get up.
ARNHOLM: Does he know? The Doctor?
ELLIDA: I told him at the time that I’d been in love with someone. He said he’d rather not know, that it was in the past. Anyway, it was madness. Over in a flash. Well, in one way.
ARNHOLM: What do you mean – in one way? Are you saying that it’s not over?
ELLIDA: Of course it’s over, completely over! It isn’t what you think.
ARNHOLM: Then –
ELLIDA: I can’t – I can’t…the whole thing is impossible, you’d say I was out of my mind if I told you.
ARNHOLM: Perhaps you’d better try.
ELLIDA: How could you – a reasonable man – understand something that…it’s impossible.
ARNHOLM: Why not let me be the judge?
ELLIDA: No. Yes…perhaps…later on, there’s someone coming.
LYNGSTRAND enters the garden with a huge bunch of flowers, beribboned, and a flower in his buttonhole. He hovers.
ELLIDA: Mr Lyngstrand! Are you looking for the girls?
LYNGSTRAND: Good morning, Mrs Wangel – no – I – actually it was you I came to…if you remember you mentioned that I might call.
ELLIDA: Did I? You’re very welcome.
LYNGSTRAND: Thank you. And as I believe it’s a very special occasion today –
ELLIDA: You’re well informed.
LYNGSTRAND: …so…if I may be so bold… (He bows and presents the enormous bunch of flowers.)
ELLIDA: Oh, but you must give them to him yourself!
LYNGSTRAND: I’m sorry?
ELLIDA: Dr Arnholm. Our esteemed visitor.
LYNGSTRAND: Oh. No, it’s for the birthday!
ELLIDA: Birthday? Whose?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh dear, is it a secret?
ELLIDA: What have they been saying?
LYNGSTRAND: That today is your birthday.
ARNHOLM: Today? No, surely not.
ELLIDA: Who told you that?
LYNGSTRAND: Miss Hilde. I was here earlier and the young ladies were doing the flowers – and the flags – (He waves an arm at the flagstaff.)
ELLIDA: And –
LYNGSTRAND: Miss Hilde said that today was your birthday.
ELLIDA: My birthday?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes. They told me. Mother’s birthday.
ARNHOLM: Ah!
He and ELLIDA exchange a glance.
Well, Mrs Wangel, since the young man seems to know all about it –
ELLIDA: Yes…
LYNGSTRAND: (Offers the flowers.) May I wish you a very happy day?
ELLIDA takes the flowers.
ELLIDA: Thank you. Come and sit down. You’re right. It was meant to be a secret.
ARNHOLM: Not for outsiders.
ELLIDA: As you say, not for outsiders.
LYNGSTRAND: I shan’t say a word.
ELLIDA: It doesn’t matter. You’re looking better.
LYNGSTRAND: Yes, I’m feeling much more myself. If I can get away south next year, to the sun –
ELLIDA: So the girls were telling me.
LYNGSTRAND: I’ve a good friend in Bergen who’s promised to help. I was at sea in one of his ships.
ELLIDA: Sea? You’ve been to sea?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes.
ELLIDA: So you’re in love with the wide, wide ocean, yes?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, no.
ELLIDA: No?
LYNGSTRAND: Not in the least.
ELLIDA: But – ?
LYNGSTRAND: My mother died and my father couldn’t bear to keep me in the house so he…I was sent away to sea. Fortunately the boat foundered.
ELLIDA: Foundered?
ARNHOLM: Fortunately?!
LYNGSTRAND: We went down in the English Channel.
ARNHOLM: Good Lord.
LYNGSTRAND: I was in the water for hours.
ELLIDA: In the water?
LYNGSTRAND: For hours. In the icy water.
ARNHOLM: God in Heaven!
LYNGSTRAND: I was lucky, my lungs were affected – not badly, but he had to let me give up the sea. Father. Now I can do what I always wanted – I can sculpt!
ARNHOLM: You want to be a sculptor?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, yes! Clay is such wonderful stuff. It’s alive…soft, but strong…you can feel it shaping under your hands.
ELLIDA: What are you going to sculpt? Mermaids on briny crests? Fierce Vikings, with swords aloft?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, no, it won’t be anything like that. As soon as I get the chance I want to make a great work of art. A composition.
ELLIDA: What will it represent?
LYNGSTRAND: From my own experience.
ARNHOLM: That’s a sound notion.
ELLIDA: What is the subject?
LYNGSTRAND: A woman. Asleep. But restless. Dreaming.
ELLIDA: Dreaming?
LYNGSTRAND: You’ll see that she’s dreaming – I’ll do that somehow.
ARNHOLM: I thought you said a group, a composition?
LYNGSTRAND: Actually there’s only one other figure. Her man. She’s been unfaithful to him in his absence, and he’s dead. Drowned at sea.
ELLIDA: Drowned?
LYNGSTRAND: Drowned. But standing beside her. Shining…watery from the sea.
ELLIDA: (A statement.) Just behind her.
ARNHOLM: I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I thought you said you wanted to work from experience?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes…I saw it!
ARNHOLM: You saw a dead man…you saw a man drown?
LYNGSTRAND: Well, no – not exactly. Not literally.
ARNHOLM: Then how do you mean?
ELLIDA: Tell me. I want to know. All of it.
ARNHOLM: Yes, a story of the sea…your world.
LYNGSTRAND: We were across the ocean, due to sail home from Halifax. The bosun got ill so we signed on an American.
ELLIDA: An American?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes – well, he said he was. And when we were on board he asked the Captain if he could borrow some old newspapers – he said he wanted to learn Norwegian.
ELLIDA: And? And then what?
LYNGSTRAND: We ran into bad weather. I was below decks, and the new bosun, the American, was there… he’d sprained his ankle. He was lying on a bunk reading the papers…all of a sudden he lets out this huge groan, like an animal
that’s been speared. It made me jump – I sat up, and his face was chalk. It was so strange.
ELLIDA: What did he say?
LYNGSTRAND: Nothing. Not a word. He just sat there, tearing the paper quietly – so quietly with his huge hands until there was nothing but paper all over the cabin.
ELLIDA: And he didn’t speak?
LYNGSTRAND: No. Not a word. Not then.
ELLIDA: Later?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, yes. Hours later he said, ‘She’s married.’
ELLIDA: ‘Married’? He said that?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes. It was odd.
ARNHOLM: Odd?
LYNGSTRAND: He was so calm. Surrounded by paper. In little bits.
ARNHOLM: Did he explain?
LYNGSTRAND: No. He just said, in a quiet voice ‘She’s mine, and she always will be.’
ELLIDA: ‘Mine’?
LYNGSTRAND: Yes. And then he said, ‘Whether I’m dead or alive, on the sea or under it, I’ll have her. She’s mine and I will have her.’
ELLIDA gets up abruptly and pours a glass of water.
ELLIDA: I can’t breathe…it’s so close!
LYNGSTRAND: He meant every word. You knew that that is what he would do.
ELLIDA: Where is he? Where is he now?
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, he’s dead. Dead for sure, Mrs Wangel.
ELLIDA: How do you know?
LYNGSTRAND: We foundered.
ELLIDA stands before him, eyes wide.
LYNGSTRAND: The ship broke up – sank. In the end I was picked up – I got away in the longboat with the captain and five other hands.
ELLIDA: With – ?
LYNGSTRAND: (Shakes his head.) No. The American took to the dinghy with the mate and another man.
ELLIDA: They were lost?
LYNGSTRAND: Nothing was ever heard of them, according to my friend in Bergen. So that’s my subject. The wife…and the mariner – drowned, but still with her…rising out of the sea beside her. It’s all in my mind’s eye.
ELLIDA: (She rises.) It’s too close. We must go inside, find my husband.
LYNGSTRAND: I’ll take my leave if I may. I just wanted to wish you a happy day for your birthday.
ELLIDA: Thank you. (Indicates the flowers.) They’re lovely. Goodbye.
LYNGSTRAND goes.
ARNHOLM: You seem shocked.
ELLIDA: Yes.
ARNHOLM: Surely – you must expect it.
ELLIDA: For him to come back? From the dead?
ARNHOLM: (Puzzled.) What? You don’t believe all that, surely. The boy’s romancing. I thought you were upset by the flowers, the celebration of…your husband and the children remembering their…and your being excluded…
ELLIDA: No, no, no…I’ve no right to think of Wangel as mine and mine alone.
ARNHOLM: I think you do have that right.
ELLIDA: Not at all. I have a life of my own. A life they have no part of.
ARNHOLM: And what is that supposed to mean? That you don’t love him?
ELLIDA: I do…I do love him, with all my heart.
ARNHOLM: Then what is this all about?
ELLIDA: Sssh, not now. Later.
BOLETTE: (Enters.) Surgery’s over! Shall we go and sit in the conservatory?
ELLIDA: Why not?
WANGEL, having changed his clothes, enters.
WANGEL: Here I am…at your disposal and ready for something deliciously cool in a very large glass.
ELLIDA: Just a minute – (She fetches the flowers from the arbour.)
HILDE: (Enters.) Oh, they’re pretty – where did they come from?
She glances at ELLIDA. Throughout she watches ELLIDA compulsively.
ELLIDA: Young Mr Lyngstrand, the sculptor.
HILDE: Him?
BOLETTE: (Uneasy.) He called again?
ELLIDA: To bring these – for ‘my’ birthday.
BOLETTE: Oh.
HILDE: The fool.
WANGEL: (Embarrassed.) Yes, well, you see, my dear –
ELLIDA: (To the girls.) Shall we put them in water with the others? (She goes.)
BOLETTE: She means well.
HILDE: Rubbish. It’s all done to impress Father.
WANGEL: (Following her inside.) Thank you, Ellida. Thank you, my dear.
ELLIDA: Not at all. Why shouldn’t I celebrate Mother’s birthday with you?
ARNHOLM: Hmm…
ACT TWO
A Look-Out, a hilltop with low growth. There are stones arranged for seating, and behind is the fjord, with islands and headlands, looking out the sea. A summer’s night, and the faint sound of singing. After a pause BALLESTED enters, guiding offstage foreign tourists. He is laden with their shawls and bags.
BALLESTED: (Points upwards with his stick.) Sehen Sie, meine Herrschaften – dort away liegt eine andere hill. Das willen wir also besteigen und so on – (Leads them off.)
HILDE enters, pauses for BOLETTE.
BOLETTE: Hilde – you’ve left Mr Lyngstrand behind!
HILDE: I can’t help it – he’s so slow!
BOLETTE: He’s not well!
HILDE: It isn’t serious.
BOLETTE: It is.
HILDE: Why, has he seen Father?
BOLETTE: Yes, this afternoon.
HILDE: And?
BOLETTE: Patches on both lungs. Father says – well, he won’t make old bones.
HILDE: I thought so!
BOLETTE: For heavens’ sakes keep quiet about it.
HILDE: What do you take me for? (Low.) Here he comes…‘Hans’. You’ve only got to look at him to know he’d be called Hans.
BOLETTE: Behave yourself. (LYNGSTRAND enters, carrying a parasol.)
LYNGSTRAND: Sorry to be so slow. (As HILDE points and snickers at the parasol.) Your mother was kind enough to lend me this as a walking stick.
BOLETTE: Where are they?
LYNGSTRAND: Your father’s in the cafe, the others are outside listening to the music. They’re coming up to join us.
HILDE: (Staring at him.) You must be worn out.
LYNGSTRAND: Yes, I think I’ll sit down. (Sits.)
HILDE: There’ll be dancing by the bandstand later on.
BOLETTE: Hilde, let Mr Lyngstrand get his breath back.
HILDE: Do you dance?
LYNGSTRAND: I love it. Or I would.
HILDE: You mean you don’t know how?
LYNGSTRAND: It’s my chest.
HILDE: What a pity. Poor you.
LYNGSTRAND: On the contrary, everyone’s so nice to me because of it that I don’t mind at all.
HILDE: And of course it’s not serious.
LYNGSTRAND: Not in the least. Your Father assures me.
HILDE: As soon as you go to a warmer climate you’ll be fine.
LYNGSTRAND: It’ll all clear up.
BOLETTE: (Picking wild flowers.) Would you like a flower for your buttonhole?
LYNGSTRAND: Thank you, Miss Wangel. Thank you very much.
HILDE: Are they coming?
BOLETTE: (Looking down.) Yes – oh, they’re going the wrong way.
LYNGSTRAND: I’ll run and give them a shout.
BOLETTE: Don’t, you’ll tire yourself!
LYNGSTRAND: Oh, downhill’s all right… (He goes.)
HILDE: Go on – leap about all over the place! He’s forgotten he’ll have to climb up again.
BOLETTE: Poor boy.
HILDE: If he asked you to marry him, would you?
BOLETTE: Are you out of your mind?
HILDE: I mean if he wasn’t going to die. If he was all right. What would you say, would you say yes?
BOLETTE: What about you, he’d suit you better.
HILDE: Me?! He hasn’t got a penny to his name!
BOLETTE: Then why go on about him?
HILDE: I don’t. Well, only because he’s ill.
BOLETTE: Why? You don’t feel sorry for him.
HILDE: Of course I don’t, but it is funny.
BOLETTE: What?!
HILDE: Getting him to say there’s nothing wro
ng, and he’s going to travel, and go south to the sun, and become an artist, and make statues, and none of it – none of it is going to happen because he’ll be Dead. Fascinating.
BOLETTE: No. Not fascinating. Cruel.
HILDE: It if annoys you, all the better. (Looks down the hill.) Old Arnholm doesn’t look very happy. Oh! – it’s true, it’s true!
BOLETTE: What’s true?
HILDE: He has got a bald patch – I thought I saw it at dinner.
BOLETTE: Rubbish.
HILDE: And he’s getting creases round his eyes. How you could have been in love with him – !
BOLETTE: (Smiles.) I know! I can’t believe it now…once I even burst into tears because he said Bolette was an ugly name.
HILDE: You didn’t! (Looks down.) Now he’s walking with The Lady from the Sea. I wonder if they’re getting off with each other – Father’s all on his own.
BOLETTE: Stop it, and leave her alone! We’re all getting on so much better now.
HILDE: No, we’re not.
BOLETTE: Hilde!
HILDE: She’s not our sort, she never will be, and we’re not hers. Why did he bring her here? She’ll only end up going off her head.
BOLETTE: Hilde, that is a dreadful thing to say! How can you even think such a thing?
HILDE: I wouldn’t be surprised. Her mother died in a lunatic asylum, I know that for a fact.
BOLETTE: Your nose is into everything. Well, just stop it, for Father’s sake – Hilde, do you hear me?
WANGEL, ELLIDA, ARNHOLM and LYNGSTRAND enter.
ELLIDA: (Pointing.) There – over there!
ARNHOLM: Where?
ELLIDA: The sea!
BOLETTE: (To ARNHOLM.) Isn’t it wonderful?
ARNHOLM: Glorious views.
WANGEL: You’ve never been up here before?
ARNHOLM: In my day there wasn’t a path.
BOLETTE: There’s an even better view from the Crow’s Nest, over there.
WANGEL: Ellida, shall we?
ELLIDA: You go. I’ll stay here.
WANGEL: I’ll wait with you. The girls can take Dr Arnholm.
ARNHOLM: Splendid. Is there a path?
HILDE: Wide enough to walk arm in arm.
ARNHOLM: (Joking.) Indeed, Miss Hilde? (To BOLETTE.) Shall we see if she’s right?
BOLETTE laughs, takes his arm.
HILDE: What about you? (Offers her arm.)
LYNGSTRAND: Arm in arm?
HILDE: If you want.
LYNGSTRAND: Gosh.
HILDE: What do you mean?
LYNGSTRAND: People will think we’re engaged.
HILDE: Haven’t you ever walked arm in arm before?
