I said goodbye. I can’t stand millionaires who hate themselves when they get drunk. I just had to give up on Lester; he’d become a little boy again, and would probably stay like that for the rest of the night.
Outside there was utter silence. Starry sky, and cracklingly cold. I looked forward to the long walk down to the town center. When I passed the snow cave, I saw that the candle was lit again.
She was crouching, dressed in Lester’s pilot uniform, a bottle of sherry in her hand. Her lips were constantly moving. It was impossible to hear what she said, but later I’ve enjoyed imagining that she sat there and told herself what her real name was.
2003
THE STRONGER
August Strindberg
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
CHARACTERS
Madame X: an actress, married
Mademoiselle Y: an actress, single
SCENE: The corner of a ladies’ cafe, two little iron tables, a red velvet sofa, several chairs.
[Madame X enters, dressed in winter clothes, wearing hat and cloak and carrying a dainty Japanese basket on her arm. Mademoiselle Y sits beside a half-empty beer bottle, reading an illustrated newspaper which later she changes for another.]
MADAME X: Good evening, Amelia, you’re sitting here alone on Christmas Eve like a poor old maid.
[Mademoiselle Y glances up from the newspaper, nods, and resumes her reading.]
MADAME X: Do you know it worries me to see you this way, alone in a cafe, and on Christmas Eve, too. It makes me feel as I did that time when I saw a bridal party in a Paris restaurant, the bride sitting reading a comic paper, while the groom played billiards with the witnesses. Ah! Thought I, with such a beginning, what a sequel and what an ending! He played billiards on his wedding evening—and she read a comic paper!—But that is neither here nor there.
[The waiter enters, places a cup of chocolate before Mademoiselle X, and goes out.]
MADAME X: I tell you what, Amelia! I believe you would have done better to have kept him! Do you remember I was the first to say “forgive him!” Recollect? Then you would have been married now and have had a home. Remember that Christmas in the country? How happy you were with your fiancé’s parents, how you enjoyed the happiness of their home, yet longed for the theater. Yes, Amelia, dear, home is the best of all—next to the theater—and the children, you understand—but that you don’t understand!
[Mademoiselle Y looks scornful. Madame X sips a spoonful out of the cup, then opens her basket and takes out the Christmas presents.]
MADAME X: Here you can see what I have bought for my little pigs. [Takes up a doll] Look at this! This is for Liza. See?—And here is Maja’s popgun [Loads and shoots at Mademoiselle Y who makes a startled gesture]
MADAME X: Were you frightened? Do you think I should like to shoot you? What? My soul! I don’t believe you thought that! If you wanted to shoot me, that wouldn’t surprise me, because I came in your way—and that, I know, you can never forget. But I was quite innocent. You still believe I intrigued you out of the theater, but I didn’t do that! I didn’t do that even if you do think so. But it’s all one whether I say so or not, for you still believe it was I! [Takes up a pair of embroidered slippers] And these are for my old man. With tulips on them which I embroidered myself. I can’t bear tulips, you know, but he must have tulips on everything.
[Mademoiselle Y looks up ironically and curiously. Madame X puts a hand in each slipper.]
MADAME X: See what little feet Bob has! What? And you ought to see how elegantly he walks! You’ve never seen him in slippers? [Mademoiselle Y laughs aloud.] Look here, this is he. [She makes the slippers walk on the table. Mademoiselle Y laughs loudly.]
MADAME X: And when he is peeved, see, he stamps like this with his foot. “What! Damn that cook, she never can learn to make coffee. Ah! Now those idiots haven’t trimmed the lamp wick straight!” And then he wears out the soles and his feet freeze. “Ugh, how cold it is and the stupid fools never can keep the fire in the heater.” [She rubs together the slippers’ soles and uppers. Mademoiselle Y laughs clearly.]
MADAME X: And then he comes home and has to hunt for his slippers that Marie has stuck under the chiffonier. Oh, but it is a sin to sit here and make fun of one’s husband. He’s a pretty good little husband—You ought to have such a husband, Amelia. What are you laughing at? What? What?—And then I know he’s true to me. Yes, I know that. Because he told me himself. What are you tittering about? When I came back from my tour of Norway, that shameless Frederika came and wanted to elope with him. Can you imagine anything so infamous? [Pause] But I’d have scratched her eyes out if she had come to see him when I was at home! [Pause] It was good that Bob spoke of it himself and that it didn’t reach me through gossip. [Pause] But Frederika wasn’t the only one, would you believe it! I don’t know why, but women are crazy about my husband. They must think he has something to say about theater engagements because he’s connected with the government. Perhaps you were there yourself and tried to influence him! I don’t trust you any too much. But, I know he’s not concerned about you, and you seem to have a grudge against him.
[Pause. They look quizzically at each other.]
MADAME X: Come to see us this evening, Amelia, and show that you’re not angry with us—not angry with me at any rate! I don’t know why, but it’s so uncomfortable to have you an enemy. Possibly it’s because I came in your way or—I really don’t know—just why. [Pause. Mademoiselle Y stares at Madame X curiously.]
MADAME X: Our acquaintance has been so peculiar. [Thoughtfully] When I saw you the first time I was so afraid of you, so afraid, that I couldn’t look you in the face; still as I came and went I always found myself near you—I couldn’t risk being your enemy, so I became your friend. But there was always a discordant note when you came to our house, because I saw that my husband couldn’t bear you—and that was as annoying to me as an ill-fitting gown—and I did all I could to make him friendly toward you, but before he consented you announced your engagement. Then came a violent friendship, so that in a twinkling it appeared as if you dared only show him your real feelings when you were betrothed—and then—how was it later?—I didn’t get jealous—how wonderful! And I remember that when you were Patin’s godmother, I made Bob kiss you—he did it, but you were so confused—that is, I didn’t notice it then—thought about it later—never thought about it before—now! [Gets up hastily] Why are you silent? You haven’t said a word this whole time, but you have let me go on talking! You have sat there and your eyes loosened out of me all these thoughts that lay like raw silk in their cocoon—thoughts—suspicious thoughts, perhaps—let me see—why did you break your engagement? Why do you come so seldom to our house these days? Why won’t you visit us tonight?
[Mademoiselle Y appears as if about to speak.]
MADAME X: Keep still! You don’t have to say anything. I comprehend it all myself! It was because, and because and because. Yes! Yes! Now everything is clear. So that’s it! Pfui, I won’t sit at the same table with you. [Takes her things to the next table] That’s the reason why I had to embroider tulips, which I hate, on his slippers; because you are fond of tulips; that’s why [Throws the slippers on the floor] we go to the mountains during the summer, because you don’t like the sea air; that’s why my boy is named Eskil, because it’s your father’s name; that’s why I wear your colors, read your authors, eat your pet dishes, drink your beverages—this chocolate, for example—that’s why. Oh, my God, it’s fearful, when I think about it; it’s fearful! Everything, everything, came from you to me, even your passion! Your soul crept into mine, like a worm into an apple, ate and ate, grubbed and grubbed, until nothing was left but the rind within. I wanted to fly from you, but I couldn’t; you lay like a snake and enchanted me with your black eyes—I felt as if the branch gave way and let me fall. I lay with feet bound together in the water and swam mightily with my hands, but the harder I struggled the deeper I worked myself under, until I sank to the bottom, where you lay like
a giant crab ready to catch hold of me with your claws—and I just lay there!
Pfui! How I hate you! hate you! hate you! But you, you only sit there and keep silent, peacefully, indifferently, indifferent as to whether the moon waxes or wanes, whether it is Christmas or New Year’s, whether others are happy or unhappy, without the ability to hate or to love, as composed as a stork by a mouse hole. You can’t make conquests yourself, you can’t keep a man’s love, but you can steal away that love from others! Here you sit in your corner—do you know they have named a mouse-trap after you?—and read your newspapers in order to see if anything has happened to anyone, or who’s had a run of bad luck, or who has left the theater; here you sit and review your work, calculating your mischief as a pilot does his course; collecting your tribute …
Poor Amelia, do you know that I’m really sorry for you, because you are so unhappy. Unhappy like a wounded animal, and spiteful because you are wounded! I can’t be angry with you, no matter how much I want to be—because you come out at the small end of the horn. Yes, that affair with Bob—I don’t care about that. What is that to me, after all? And if I learned to drink chocolate from you or from somebody else, what difference does it make. [Drinks a spoonful out of the cup, knowingly.] Besides, chocolate is very healthful. And if you taught me how to dress—tant mieux—that only makes me more attractive to my husband. And you lost what I won. Yes, to sum up: I believe you have lost him. But it was certainly your intent that I should go my own road—do as you did and regret as you now regret—but I don’t do that! We won’t be mean, will we? And why should I take only what nobody else will have?
Possibly, all in all, at this moment I am really the stronger. You get nothing from me, but you gave me much. And now I appear like a thief to you. You wake up and find I possess what you have lost! How was it that everything in your hands was worthless and sterile? You can hold no man’s love with your tulips and your passion, as I can. You can’t learn housekeeping from your authors, as I have done; you have no little Eskil to cherish, even if your father was named Eskil! And why do you keep silent, silent, silent? I believe that it’s strength, but, perhaps, it’s because you have nothing to say! Because you don’t think anything. [Rises and gathers up her slippers] Now I’m going home—and take the tulips with me—your tulips! You can’t learn from another, you can’t bend—and therefore you will be broken like a dry stalk—but I won’t be!
Thank you, Amelia, for all your good lessons. Thanks because you taught me to love my husband! Now I’ll go home and love him!
[She goes.]
CURTAIN
1889
THE FOREST WITCH
Johan Krohn
IT WAS IN THE EARLIEST SPRINGTIME. IN THE SHADE THE AIR WAS STILL quite cold; but where the clear and strong sunshine streamed down, one could see that spring had come, for there the blossoms were beginning to stretch upward on their tiny stalks.
A couple of children were walking through the forest: a ten-year-old girl named Nina and her little brother Johannes.
They were seeking flowers. Nina had to find them because the flowers were too tiny and too much hidden for so small a child as Johannes to discover them for himself, but she always let him have the pleasure of picking them.
It was such a joyous spring walk that Nina did not notice how far they were straying away from their grandmother’s hut, back of the hill. This little hut had been their home only for a short time. When their dear father and mother died, their grandmother had kindly taken them to live with her and this was their first walk in the forest.
At last Nina thought they ought to go back, but just as she turned around with Johannes by the hand, who should stand before them but a hideous old creature, more glaring and frightful than you can imagine!
“What are you doing here, you wretched children?” she shrieked. “Are you plucking flowers in my forest? Then shall I pluck you, you may believe!”
“Oh, pardon us,” cried Nina, “we did not know that we must not pick flowers here. We are strangers in this forest. Pray, pray pardon us.”
“Snikkesnak!” answered the terrific old witch, for such the creature was. “Don’t talk to me! I never pay any attention to what children say; nor to old folks’ talk either, for that matter. Indeed I don’t! Snikkesnak! Snikkesnak! But it is not you that I want, silly girl. It is the boy there who has offended me. The little rascal! It is he who picked the flowers. Now I shall take him!”
“Oh! Take me, take me instead,” cried Nina in terror, flinging her arms around her brother. “It is my fault! I showed him the flowers, and let him pick them. You’ve no right to take him! Oh! do take me; he is too little.”
“Snikkesnak!” answered the witch. “What a lot of talk! But you are right; the boy is small to come into my service, so I suppose I shall have to take you. Now listen well to what I say. Spring and summer are coming and I shall have no work for you then; so I shall not trouble myself about you for the present. But when autumn has come and gone, and all the leaves and flowers have disappeared, then are we very busy in the underground world. Then you may believe that I shall teach you how to work! And I live deep down, very, very deep! Now you may go; but I will make a bargain with you. When the last flower is faded—listen!—when the last flower is faded, meet me here on this spot—or—or——”
The old witch stopped to think what she could best threaten Nina with. Her wicked eyes glared around for an instant till she noticed that Nina stood, with her arms about her little brother, ready to ward off any evil that might come upon him.
“Or I shall come and catch this little rascal, and twist his arms and legs all out of joint!” screamed the witch, shaking her knotty stick at little Johannes.
Then, after a dark glance at Nina, she shuffled off through the forest, with the crows shrieking after her, and the leaves and flowers trembling on every side.
As soon as the witch was out of sight, Nina hastened home with Johannes. Like a kind sister she suited her frightened pace to his, so that he should not stumble and fall.
The poor little boy had been so terrified at the witch that he had not in the least understood the cruel threats she had used against him, or the dreadful fate that was in store for Nina.
Nina was rejoiced that this was so; for then he could not tell their grandmother what the witch had said, and she herself would not disclose the dreadful doom hanging over her. She was determined that the poor grandmother should not be made anxious and sorrowful as long as it could be helped.
Shortly after this, the spring burst forth in all its power and beauty, and the blossoms shot up everywhere—in the woods, the fields, the meadows, and the gardens. Nina welcomed them as her dearest friends. They would protect her against the forest witch. So long as she had a single one of these, she would not have to go down into the dark earth to serve the hideous creature.
Nina had always loved flowers, but never had she thought so much about them as now. Yet alas! Spring soon turned into summer, and summer went faster than ever before, it seemed to poor Nina. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she saw the blue cornflowers fall before the reaper’s scythe, when the grain was cut in harvest time.
But Nina could still hope, even then; for the roses continued to bloom on Grandmother’s old rose bush outside the door of the hut. Nina kissed them and begged them to last as long as ever they could! And so they did—the dear, friendly roses!
When the last little rose had at length withered, autumn had almost passed and the many-colored leaves were dropping from the trees by the thousands. Yet Nina discovered to her joy and comfort that there were flowers still. Along the roadside stood the simple, hardy wild aster, which blossomed on and on, although the autumn winds and rains destroyed everything else.
Winter began, but so mildly that it seemed as if it were still autumn. When the asters finally disappeared, other help came to Nina; for the hazel bush was completely hoaxed by the mild weather and thought it was spring; so it began to unfold its yellow catkins
, standing beautiful and bright, as one saw it between the bare trees over the hedges.
So, even when the winter was far advanced, Nina was still saved from going to the witch; but this could not long continue. Cold weather must soon come, because Grandmother had said that Christmas was near.
And suddenly winter did come in earnest, with its icy frosts and drifting snows. For five days it was impossible to get out of the hut, because the wind kept whirling the snow into high drifts all about it. But when the sixth day came the wind abated and the snow lay peacefully on the ground.
Now Nina dared no longer to stay in the house, for surely all the flowers were dead and buried under the cold snow after this bitter storm. She must go and keep her compact with the witch. So gathering together all her courage, she stole out of the house without being seen by anyone.
Outside, she stood still for an instant, took a last look at the hut, which now seemed so cozy and dear, whispered “Farewell,” and started on her way to the forest.
But she had gathered too little courage, after all; for it melted away immediately when she discovered the witch a few steps from the door, standing in the little roadside garden, waiting for her.
“You’ve been rather slow about keeping to your bargain!” exclaimed the witch angrily. “I was just coming after you.”
“Oh! Do not make me go with you!” cried Nina.
In her agony she fell down upon the snow at the witch’s great feet, and besought her wildly: “Let me be free! Oh, do let me be free!”
“Snikkesnak!” snapped the witch. “Up with you! No nonsense!”
“Is there not a single flower to save me?” wailed Nina. She half rose, and, fairly beside herself with fright and despair, began to scrape the snow away from the garden bed at the side of the path, trying to find a flower.
A Very Scandinavian Christmas Page 4
