The far corner of DR. WANGEL’S garden by the carp pond. The deepening twilight of a summer night. ARNHOLM, BOLETTE, LYNGSTRAND, and HILDA, in a boat, are punting along the bank from the left.
HILDA. See, we can easily jump ashore from here!
ARNHOLM. No, no, don’t!
LYNGSTRAND. I can’t jump, Hilda.
HILDA. And you, Arnholm, can’t you jump either?
ARNHOLM. I’d rather pass it up.
BOLETTE. Then let’s put in by the bathhouse steps.
(They pole off to the right. At the same time BALLESTED appears on the footpath from the right, carrying music scores and a French horn. He waves to those in the boat, turns and talks to them. Their answers are heard farther and farther off in the distance.)
BALLESTED. What did you say—? Yes, that’s right—for the English steamer. It’s her last trip of the year. But if you want to relish the music, you better not wait too long. (Shouts.) What? (Shaking his head.) Can’t hear you!
(ELLIDA, with a shawl over her head, comes in from the left, followed by DR. WANGEL.)
WANGEL. But, Ellida dear—I tell you, there’s still plenty of time.
ELLIDA. No, no—there isn’t! He can come any moment.
BALLESTED (outside the garden fence). Well, good evening, Doctor! Good evening, Mrs. Wangel!
WANGEL (becoming aware of him). Oh, is that you? Are we having music tonight?
BALLESTED. Yes. The Wind Ensemble’s going to make itself heard. There’s no shortage of festivities these days. Tonight we’re saluting the English ship.
ELLIDA. The English ship! Has she been sighted?
BALLESTED. Not yet. But she slips her way in, you know—between the islands. There’s no sign of her—and then, suddenly, there she is.
ELLIDA. Yes—that’s just the way it is.
WANGEL (half to ELLIDA). Tonight’s the last voyage. And then—no more.
BALLESTED. A doleful thought, Doctor. But all the more reason, as I say, for making a celebration. Ah, me! These delightful summer days will soon be over. The sea-lanes will soon be locked in ice—as the old tragedy has it.
ELLIDA. The sea-lanes locked—yes.
BALLESTED. How sad to think. We’ve been summer’s happy children now for weeks and months. It’s hard to reconcile oneself with the dark days coming. Yes, I mean, it is at first. Because, you know, people learn to accli—acclimatize themselves, Mrs. Wangel. Yes, they really do.
(He bows and goes out left.)
ELLIDA (looking out across the fjord). Oh, this agonizing suspense! This feverish last half hour before the decision.
WANGEL. Then you definitely do want to talk to him yourself?
ELLIDA. I have to talk to him myself. It’s the only way I can make a free choice.
WANGEL. You have no choice, Ellida. You haven’t the right. I won’t permit it.
ELLIDA. You can’t keep me from choosing. Neither you nor anyone else. You can forbid me to go with him—if I choose that. You can hold me here by force—against my will. That you can do. But that I choose—choose from the depths of my being—choose him, and not you—if I have to—that you can never prevent.
WANGEL. No, you’re right. I can’t prevent you.
ELLIDA. So I have nothing at all to stop me. Not one earthly tie here at home. I’ve been so completely without roots in this house, Wangel. I have no place with the children—in their hearts, I mean. I never have. When I go—if I go—either with him tonight, or to Skjoldvik tomorrow—I won’t even have a key to give up, or a set of instructions to leave behind about anything at all. That’s how rootless—how totally outside of things I’ve been from the moment I came.
WANGEL. You wanted it that way yourself.
ELLIDA. No, I didn’t. I had no wants this way or that. I’ve simply left everything just as it was on the day I arrived. It was you, and nobody else, who wanted it like that.
WANGEL. I tried to do what was best for you.
ELLIDA. Yes, Wangel—I know you did! But these things retaliate on us; they take revenge. Now I have nothing to hold me here—no foundation—no support—no impulse toward everything that should have been our dearest common bonds.
WANGEL. Yes, that’s clear enough. So you’ll have your freedom from tomorrow on. You can live your own life then.
ELLIDA. My own life, you call it! Oh, no, the real thread of my life snapped when I came here to live with you. (Clenching her fists in a tremor of fear.) And now, tonight—in half an hour, he’ll be here, the man I broke faith with, the man whose word I should have kept sacred, as he kept mine. He’s coming to ask me—this one last time—to start my life over—to live a life out of my own truth—the life that terrifies and attracts—and that I can’t give up, not of my own free will!
WANGEL. Exactly why you need me, as your husband—and your doctor—to assume that power, and act in your own behalf.
ELLIDA. Yes, Wangel, I understand very well. Oh, don’t think there aren’t times when I’m sure there’d be peace and security for me in taking refuge completely in you—and trying to defy all the tempting, treacherous powers. But I can’t. No, no—I can’t do it!
WANGEL. Come, Ellida—let’s walk up and down by the shore for a while.
ELLIDA. I’d like to. But I don’t dare. He said I should wait for him here.
WANGEL. Come along. You have plenty of time.
ELLIDA. You think so?
WANGEL. More than enough, yes.
ELLIDA. Let’s walk a bit then.
(They go off in the foreground to the right. As they depart, ARNHOLM and BOLETTE appear by the upper bank of the pond.)
BOLETTE (noticing the others leaving). Look—!
ARNHOLM (softly). Shh—let them go.
BOLETTE. Have you any idea what’s been happening between them the last few days?
ARNHOLM. Have you noticed anything?
BOLETTE. I’ll say!
ARNHOLM. Something special?
BOLETTE. Oh, this and that. Haven’t you?
ARNHOLM. Oh, I really don’t know—
BOLETTE. Yes, you know all right. But you won’t come out with it.
ARNHOLM. I think it’ll be good for your stepmother to take that little trip.
ARNHOLM. Yes, I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be a good thing for all parties if she could get away now and then?
BOLETTE. If she goes home to Skjoldvik tomorrow, she’ll never come back here again to us.
ARNHOLM. But, Bolette dear, where did you ever get that notion?
BOLETTE. I’m absolutely convinced. You just wait! You’ll see—she won’t come back again. At least, not while Hilda and I are around the house.
ARNHOLM. Hilda, too?
BOLETTE. Well, with Hilda it might work out. She’s still not much more than a child. And then I think, underneath, she really worships Ellida. But with me, it’s another story. A stepmother who’s hardly much older than oneself—
ARNHOLM. Bolette—for you it might not be so long before you could get away.
BOLETTE (fervently). You mean it! Then you’ve talked it over with Father?
ARNHOLM. Yes, I’ve done that.
BOLETTE. Well—and what did he say?
ARNHOLM. Hm—of course, right now your father’s so absorbed in other things—
BOLETTE. Yes, that’s what I told you before.
ARNHOLM. But I did get this much out of him: that you mustn’t be counting on any help from him.
BOLETTE. None—!
ARNHOLM. He made his situation quite clear to me. Something of that order, he felt, would be totally out of the realm of possibility for him.
BOLETTE (reproachfully). And you can simply stand there and tease me.
ARNHOLM. I’m not teasing at all, Bolette. It’s completely up to you whether or not you can break away.
BOLETTE. You say it’s up to me?
ARNHOLM. That is, if you really want to enter the world—and learn about everything that interests you most—share in whatever you’ve longed for here at home—and live a more ample life. What do you say, Bolette?
BOLETTE (clasping her hands). My God in heaven—! But—it’s all so impossible. If Father won’t or can’t, then—because there’s no one else I can turn to.
ARNHOLM. Couldn’t you accept a helping hand from your old—I mean, your former teacher?
BOLETTE. From you, Mr. Arnholm! You’d be willing to—?
ARNHOLM. To stand by you? Yes, with all my heart. In both word and deed. You can rely on that. So—do you agree? Well? Is it a bargain?
BOLETTE. A bargain! To leave—to see the world—to learn what life really is! It’s like some beautiful, unattainable dream.
ARNHOLM. But it all can come true for you now—if you’ll try for it.
BOLETTE. So much happiness—it’s breathtaking! And you’ll help me to it. But—tell me, is it right to take such a gift from a stranger?
ARNHOLM. From me, Bolette, you certainly can. Whatever you need.
BOLETTE (seizing his hands). Yes, I almost believe I can! I don’t know why it is, but— (In an outburst of feeling.) —oh, I could both laugh and cry for joy! I feel so happy. Oh—so I am going to live, after all. I was beginning to feel so afraid that life would pass me by.
ARNHOLM. That’s nothing you have to fear. But now you must tell me very frankly—if there’s anything—anything to bind you here.
BOLETTE. Bind me? No, there isn’t.
ARNHOLM. No one in particular?
BOLETTE. No one at all. Well, I mean—Father, of course, in a way. And Hilda, too. But—
ARNHOLM. Well—you’d be leaving your father sooner or later. And Hilda will be going her own way, too, before long. It’s only a question of time, that’s all. But otherwise you’ve no other ties? No other kind of relationship?
BOLETTE. No, nothing. So I can just as well leave as I wish.
ARNHOLM. Well, if that’s the case—then you must leave with me.
BOLETTE (clapping her hands). Oh, God—I can’t believe it!
ARNHOLM. Because I hope you have full confidence in me?
BOLETTE. Why, of course.
ARNHOLM. And you feel quite safe in trusting yourself and your future in my hands? You do, don’t you?
BOLETTE. Naturally! Why shouldn’t I? How can you ask? You’re my old teacher—I mean, my teacher from the old days.
ARNHOLM. Not only that. That aspect of it I’d just as soon forget. But—well—anyway you’re free, Bolette. There are no ties binding you. So I’m asking you then—if you’d—you’d be willing to join yourself to me—for life.
BOLETTE (recoiling, startled). Oh—what are you saying?
ARNHOLM. For the rest of your life, Bolette. If you’ll be my wife.
BOLETTE (half to herself). No, no, no! This is impossible. Quite impossible.
ARNHOLM. Does it really seem so utterly impossible to you that—?
BOLETTE. But you don’t mean—you can’t mean what you’re saying, Mr. Arnholm! (Looking at him.) Or—anyway— Is that what you meant when you offered to do so much for me?
ARNHOLM. Now listen to me a minute. I’ve surprised you considerably, I guess.
BOLETTE. How could something like this—from you—how could it not surprise me?
ARNHOLM. Perhaps you’re right. Of course you didn’t—and couldn’t—know that it was for your sake I made the trip here.
BOLETTE. You came here—for my sake!
ARNHOLM. Yes. Last spring I got a letter from your father. There were some lines in it that gave me the idea—hm—that your memories of me were a little more than—just friendly.
BOLETTE. How could Father write like that!
ARNHOLM. He didn’t mean it at all that way. But I persuaded myself into imagining that a young girl was going around the house here, yearning for me to return— No, Bolette, now don’t interrupt! And you have to understand—when someone like me, who’s past the pride of his youth, has that kind of belief—or illusion—it makes a powerful impression. From then on, there grew in me a warm—and grateful affection for you. I felt I had to come to you—see you again—and tell you that I shared those feelings which I’d dreamed myself into believing you felt for me.
BOLETTE. But now you know it wasn’t true! That it was a mistake!
ARNHOLM. It’s no help, Bolette. Your image—as I carry it within me—will always be colored now by those mistaken emotions. Maybe you can’t understand all this. But it’s the way it is.
BOLETTE. Anything like this I never would have believed possible.
ARNHOLM. But now that you know it is—what do you say, Bolette? Won’t you promise yourself in—in marriage to me?
BOLETTE. But, Mr. Arnholm, to me it’s simply unthinkable. You were my teacher. I can’t imagine ever being in any other kind of relationship to you.
ARNHOLM. Well, all right—if you really don’t think you can— But, in any case, the old relationship is still unchanged.
BOLETTE. What do you mean?
ARNHOLM. Naturally, I stand by my offer, just the same. I’ll make sure that you get out and see something of the world—study what interests you—and have a secure and independent life. And I’ll see that your future’s taken care of. I want you to know you’ll always find me a staunch, reliable friend.
BOLETTE. But—Mr. Arnholm—that’s all become quite impossible now.
ARNHOLM. Is that impossible, too?
BOLETTE. Yes, isn’t that obvious! After what you’ve told me here—and the answer I gave you—oh, how could you think me capable of helping myself at your expense! There’s absolutely nothing I can take from you—nothing after this!
ARNHOLM. You mean you’d rather stay here at home and watch life slipping away from you?
BOLETTE. Oh, that’s too horribly depressing to think about!
ARNHOLM. You want to throw away your chance to see the outside world and be part of everything you’ve longed for? To know there’s so infinitely much to life—and that, after all, you’ve never really experienced any of it? Think well on what you’re doing, Bolette.
BOLETTE. Yes, yes—you’re very right, Mr. Arnholm.
ARNHOLM. And then, when your father’s no longer here—maybe to stand alone and helpless in the world. Or else to have to give yourself to another man for whom you—quite possibly—might also feel no affection.
BOLETTE. Oh, yes—I can see quite well how true it is—everything you say. But still—! Or—perhaps—
ARNHOLM (quickly). Well?
BOLETTE (looking irresolutely at him). Perhaps it isn’t so utterly impossible, after all—
ARNHOLM. What, Bolette?
BOLETTE. It might do, then—to try what—what you suggested.
ARNHOLM. You mean that perhaps you’d be willing to—? That at least you’d give me the satisfaction of being able to help you as a friend?
BOLETTE. No, no! That’s absolutely impossible! No—Mr. Arnholm—if, instead, you’ll take me—
ARNHOLM. Bolette! Then you will?
BOLETTE. Yes—I think—I want that.
ARNHOLM. Then you will be my wife?
BOLETTE. Yes. If you still think that—that you want me.
ARNHOLM. If I still—! (Seizes her hand.) Oh, thank you—thank you, Bolette! All this that you’ve said—these doubts you’ve had—they don’t frighten me. If I don’t have you wholeheartedly now, I’ll find the ways to win you. Oh, Bolette, how I’ll treasure you!
BOLETTE. Now I can live in the world, in the midst of life. You promised me that.
ARNHOLM. And I’ll keep my word.
BOLETTE. And I can study anything I want.
ARNHOLM. I’ll teach you, just as I used to. Remember that last school year—?
BOLETTE (musing quietly). Imagine—to be free—and to come out—into the unknown. And not to worry about the future, or scrimping to get along—
ARNHOLM. No, you won’t have to waste your thoughts like that anymore. Which ought to be quite a relief in itself, don’t you think?
BOLETTE. Yes, definitely.
ARNHOLM (putting his arms around her waist). Ah, wait till you see how easy and comfortable we’ll be with each other. And how competently we’ll manage things together, Bolette!
BOLETTE. Yes, I’m beginning to think—I really believe—this is going to work. (Looks off to the right and hurriedly frees herself.) Ah! Don’t say anything yet!
ARNHOLM. Dear, what is it?
BOLETTE. Oh, it’s that poor— (Pointing.) See, there.
ARNHOLM. Is it your father—?
BOLETTE. No, it’s that young sculptor. He’s over there walking with Hilda.
ARNHOLM. Oh, Lyngstrand. What’s the matter with him?
BOLETTE. Well, you know how frail and sickly he is.
ARNHOLM. Yes, if it isn’t all in his mind.
BOLETTE. No, it’s serious enough. He can’t live much longer. But maybe it’s the best thing for him.
ARNHOLM. How could that be the best thing?
BOLETTE. Well, because—because nothing could ever come of his art, anyway. Let’s go before they get here.
ARNHOLM. With the greatest pleasure, dearest. Let’s.
(HILDA and LYNGSTRAND appear by the pond.)
HILDA. Hey—hey! Won’t your majesties wait for us?
ARNHOLM. We’d rather stay in the lead.
(He and BOLETTE go out to the left.)
LYNGSTRAND (laughs quietly). It’s really delightful here around this hour. Humanity comes in couples. Everyone’s two by two.
HILDA (looking after them). I could almost swear that he’s been courting her.
LYNGSTRAND. Really? Have you noticed something?
HILDA. Oh, yes. It’s not too difficult—if you’ve got eyes in your head.
LYNGSTRAND. Bolette wouldn’t have him. I’m positive of that.
HILDA. No. She thinks he’s beginning to look horribly old. And also that he’s going to be bald soon.
LYNGSTRAND. Those aren’t the only reasons. She wouldn’t have him, anyhow.
HILDA. How do you know that?
LYNGSTRAND. Because there’s someone else she’s promised to give her thoughts to.
HILDA. Just her thoughts?
LYNGSTRAND. While he’s away, yes.
HILDA. Oh, in other words, it’s you that she’s going to go thinking about!
LYNGSTRAND. Well, it might just be.
HILDA. Did she promise you that?
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, just think—she promised me that! But you mustn’t ever tell her you know.
HILDA. Oh, so help me God, I’ll be quiet as the grave.
LYNGSTRAND. I think it’s awfully kind of her.
HILDA. And when you come back here again—will you get engaged to her? And marry her?
LYNGSTRAND. No, that wouldn’t be too good a match. I don’t dare think about marrying for the first few years. And when I finally do arrive, then I expect she’ll probably be too old for me.
HILDA. But all the same, you want to have her going around thinking about you?
LYNGSTRAND. Well, it’s very necessary for me. You know, as an artist. And it’s easy enough for her to do, when she hasn’t any real vocation in life, anyhow. But it’s kind of her, all the same.
HILDA. Do you believe you can work better on your art if you know Bolette’s up here thinking about you?
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, I’m convinced of it. To know that someplace on this earth there’s a young woman of rare breeding, living quietly in her dreams—of me—why, I think that must be so—so— Well, I really don’t know what to call it.
HILDA. You mean—thrilling?
LYNGSTRAND. Thrilling? Yes, it’s thrilling; you could call it that. Or something like it. (Looks at her a moment.) You’re so perceptive, Hilda. Amazingly perceptive. When I come home again, you’ll be about the same age your sister is now. Maybe then you’ll look like her as well. And maybe you’ll have gotten her temperament, too. Almost as if you and she had grown together—in one form, so to speak.
HILDA. Would that please you?
LYNGSTRAND. I really don’t know. Yes, I guess it would. But now—for this summer—I’d prefer you to be just yourself alone. Exactly what you are.
HILDA. You like me best that way?
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, I like you very well that way.
HILDA. Hm—tell me—as an artist, do you think it’s right for me always to wear these light summer dresses?
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, I think they’re just the thing for you.
HILDA. Do you find the bright colors becoming on me?
LYNGSTRAND. Very becoming on you, at least to my taste.
HILDA. But tell me—as an artist—how do you think I’d look in black?
LYNGSTRAND. In black, Hilda?
HILDA. Yes, all in black. Do you think it would set me off well?
LYNGSTRAND. Black really isn’t quite the thing for summer. Although you certainly would look striking in black. Especially with your complexion.
HILDA (gazing into the distance). In black right up to the neck. Black ruffles. Black gloves. And a long black veil hanging down behind.
LYNGSTRAND. If you were to dress up like that, Hilda—I’d wish myself into a painter—and I’d paint you as a young, beautiful, grieving widow.
HILDA. Or a young, grieving bride.
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, that would be even better. But you can’t really want to dress like that?
HILDA. It’s hard to say. But I think it’s thrilling.
LYNGSTRAND. Thrilling?
HILDA. Thrilling to think of, yes. (Points suddenly out to the left.) Oh, look there!
LYNGSTRAND (following her stare). The English steamer! And she’s already docked.
(WANGEL and ELLIDA appear by the pond.)
WANGEL. No, Ellida, I tell you—you’re wrong! (Notices the others.) Well, are you two here? What’s the word, Mr. Lyngstrand—she’s not in sight yet, is she?
LYNGSTRAND. The English ship?
WANGEL. What else!
LYNGSTRAND (pointing). She’s right there, Doctor.
ELLIDA. Ah—! I knew it.
WANGEL. Already come!
LYNGSTRAND. Like a thief in the night, you could say. Gliding soundlessly in—
WANGEL. You better take Hilda down to the pier. Hurry up! She’ll want to hear the music.
LYNGSTRAND. Yes, we were just now leaving, Doctor.
WANGEL. We may come along later. In a little while.
HILDA (whispering to LYNGSTRAND). See, still another couple.
(She and LYNGSTRAND go out through the garden to the left. During what follows, the music of a brass band is heard far off out on the fjord.)
ELLIDA. He’s come! He’s here! Yes, yes—I can feel that.
WANGEL. You’d best go inside, Ellida. Let me talk to him alone.
ELLIDA. Oh—it’s impossible! Impossible, I tell you! (Crying out.) Oh—there he is, Wangel!
(The STRANGER appears from the left and stops on the footpath outside the fence.)
STRANGER (bowing). Good evening. So you see I’m back, Ellida.
ELLIDA. Yes. The hour has come.
STRANGER. Are you ready to leave, or not?
WANGEL. You can see yourself that she’s not.
STRANGER. I’m not talking about traveling clothes and that sort of thing—or whether her trunks are packed. Everything she needs on the trip I have with me on board. I’ve also reserved her a cabin. (To ELLIDA.) I’m asking, then, if you’re ready to come with me—of your own free will?
ELLIDA. Oh, don’t ask me! You mustn’t!
(A ship’s bell sounds in the distance.)
STRANGER. They’re ringing the first warning. Now you’ve got to say yes or no.
ELLIDA (wringing her hands). To decide! Decide for the rest of my life! And never the chance to go back!
STRANGER. Never! In half an hour it’ll be too late.
ELLIDA (with a shy, inquiring look). Why are you so determined not to let me go?
STRANGER. Don’t you feel, as I do, that we belong together?
ELLIDA. You mean, because of the promise?
STRANGER. Promises bind no one. Neither man nor woman. I don’t let you go—because I can’t.
ELLIDA (in a low, tremulous voice). Why didn’t you come before?
ELLIDA (in an outburst). Oh—this power that charms and tempts and allures me—into the unknown! All the force of the sea is in this man!
(The STRANGER climbs over the fence.)
ELLIDA (retreating behind WANGEL). What is it? What do you want?
STRANGER. I can see it and I can hear it in you, Ellida—it will be me that you choose in the end.
WANGEL (steps toward him). My wife has no choice in this. I’ll both decide—and defend—where she’s concerned. Yes, defend! If you don’t clear out of here—out of this country—and never come back—then you better know what you’re in for!
ELLIDA. No, no, Wangel! Don’t!
STRANGER. What will you do to me?
WANGEL. I’ll have you arrested—as a criminal! Right now, before you board ship! I know all about the murder up at Skjoldvik.
ELLIDA. Oh, Wangel—how can you—?
STRANGER. I was prepared for that. And so— (Draws a revolver from his breast pocket.) —so I provided myself with this.
ELLIDA (flinging herself in front of WANGEL). No—don’t kill him! Kill me instead!
STRANGER. I’m not killing either of you, so don’t get excited. This is for my own use. I want to live and die a free man.
ELLIDA (in a rising tumult of feeling). I have to say this—and say it so he can hear! Yes, you can lock me in here! You’ve got the power and the means! And that’s what you want to do! But my mind—my thoughts—all my longing dreams and desires—those you can never constrain! They’ll go raging and hunting out—into the unknown that I was made for—and that you’ve shut out for me!
WANGEL (in quiet pain). I see it so well, Ellida. Inch by inch you’re slipping away from me. This hunger for the boundless, the infinite—the unattainable—will finally drive your mind out completely into darkness.
ELLIDA. Oh, yes, yes—I feel it—like black, soundless wings hanging over me!
WANGEL. It’s not going to come to that. There’s no other way to save you. At least, not that I can see. And so—so I agree that—our contract’s dissolved. Right now, this moment. Now you can choose your own path—in full freedom.
ELLIDA (stares at him briefly as if struck dumb). Is that true—true—what you’re saying? You mean it—with all your heart?
WANGEL. Yes, I mean it—with all my miserable heart.
ELLIDA. Then you can—? You can let this be?
WANGEL. Yes, I can. Because I love you so much.
ELLIDA (her voice soft and tremulous). Have I grown so close—and so dear to you?
WANGEL. With the years and the living together, yes.
ELLIDA (striking her hands together). And I—who’ve been so blind!
WANGEL. Your thoughts have gone other ways. But now—now you’re entirely free from me—my life—my world. Now you can pick up the thread of your own true existence again. Because now you can choose in freedom—on your own responsibility.
ELLIDA (hands to her head, staring blankly at WANGEL). In freedom—responsible to myself! Responsible? How this—transforms everything!
(The ship’s bell rings again.)
STRANGER. Ellida, listen! It’s ringing for the last time now. Come!
ELLIDA (turns, looks fixedly at him, and speaks in a firm voice). I could never go with you after this.
ELLIDA (holding tight to WANGEL). No—I’ll never leave you now!
WANGEL. Ellida—Ellida!
STRANGER. Then it’s over?
ELLIDA. Yes. Over forever.
STRANGER. I see. There’s something stronger here than my will.
ELLIDA. Your will hasn’t a shred of power over me now. To me you’ve become a dead man who came up out of the sea—and who’s drifting back down again. There’s no terror in you now. And no attraction.
STRANGER. Good-bye, then. (He vaults over the fence.) From now on, you’re nothing more than—a shipwreck I barely remember. (Goes out to the left.)
WANGEL (looks at her a moment). Ellida, your mind is like the sea—it ebbs and flows. What brought the change?
ELLIDA. Oh, don’t you understand that the change came—that it had to come—when I could choose in freedom?
WANGEL. And the unknown—it doesn’t attract you anymore?
ELLIDA. It neither terrifies nor attracts. I’ve been able to see deep into it—and I could have plunged in, if I’d wanted to. I could have chosen it now. And that’s why, also, I could reject it.
WANGEL. I begin to understand you—little by little. You think and feel in images—and in visions. Your longing and craving for the sea—your attraction toward him, toward this stranger—these were the signs of an awakened, growing rage for freedom in you. Nothing else.
ELLIDA. Oh, I don’t know what to say. Except that you’ve been a good doctor for me. You found, and you dared to use the right treatment—the only one that could help me.
WANGEL. Yes—when it comes to extreme cases, we doctors have to risk desperate remedies. But now—will you be coming back to me, Ellida?
ELLIDA. Yes, my dear, faithful Wangel—I’m coming back to you now. I can now, because I come to you freely—and on my own.
WANGEL (regarding her warmly). Ellida! Ellida! Ah—to think that now we can live wholly for one another—
ELLIDA. And with the shared memories of our lives. Yours—and mine.
WANGEL. Yes, darling, we will.
ELLIDA. And with our two children, Wangel.
WANGEL. You call them ours!
ELLIDA. They’re not mine—but I’ll win them to me.
WANGEL. Ours—! (Joyfully and quickly kissing her hands.) Oh—how can I thank you for that one word!
(HILDA, BALLESTED, LYNGSTRAND, ARNHOLM, and BOLETTE come from the left into the garden. At the same time a number of the young people of the town, along with summer visitors, come along the footpath outside.)
HILDA (in a whisper to LYNGSTRAND). Why, she and Father—they look as if they’re just engaged!
BALLESTED (having overheard). But it’s summertime, little one.
ARNHOLM (glancing at WANGEL and ELLIDA). There, she’s casting off now—for England.
BOLETTE (going to the fence). Here’s the place to see her best.
LYNGSTRAND. The last sailing of the year.
BALLESTED. The sea-lanes will soon be locked in ice, as the poet says. It’s sad, Mrs. Wangel. And now we’ll lose you, too, for a while. Tomorrow, I hear, you’re off for Skjoldvik.
WANGEL. No, not anymore. We changed our minds this evening.
ARNHOLM (looking from one to the other). No—really!
HILDA (goes to ELLIDA). You’ll stay with us, after all?
ELLIDA. Yes, Hilda dear—if you’ll have me.
HILDA (struggling between joy and tears). Oh—if I’ll have—what an idea!
ARNHOLM (to ELLIDA). Well, this is quite a surprise—!
ELLIDA (smiling gravely). You see, Mr. Arnholm—you remember, we talked about it yesterday. Once you’ve really become a land animal, then there’s no going back again—into the sea. Or the life that belongs to the sea, either.
BALLESTED. But that’s just how it is with my mermaid.
ELLIDA. Yes, much the same.
BALLESTED. Except for the difference—that the mermaid dies of it. But people, human beings—they can acclam—acclimatize themselves. Yes, yes—that’s the thing, Mrs. Wangel. They can ac-cli-matize themselves.
ELLIDA. Yes, they can, Mr. Ballested—once they’re free.
WANGEL. And responsible, Ellida.
ELLIDA (quickly takes his hand). How very true!
(The great steamer glides silently out over the fjord. The music can be heard closer in toward shore.)