Sveinungi. Let go my hand!

Jorunn. I understand that Sølvi is very dear to you, my child, but this comes upon us unawares, and it has been a terrible night for us all. (To Sølvi.) Could you not have waited before speaking to Sveinungi?

Sølvi. I cannot help it that it has come in this way. I would have waited if I could.

Jorunn. I might perhaps have seen my way to put in a good word for you two. (To Sveinungi.) You won't be hard on your daughter! If we had been lying under the ruins now, she would have had no need to ask us. To-night we must not be merciless.

Sveinungi. Who is this man? I don't know him, nor do I know his people.

Sølvi. My father was a farmer like yourself. Had he been living, you two might have become friends.

Sveinungi (interrupting). The only thing I know about you is that you go about picking up stones like the children.

Sølvi. You speak slightingly of my stones, but the knowledge I gain from them can bring me more money than you ever made on your farm, and it can bring me fame.

Sveinungi. What kind of knowledge is that?

Sølvi. Those stones teach me to know my country and how it has been built by fire and water and ice. They give me an opportunity of finding out new links in laws that are eternal and mightier than all mankind.

Sveinungi. Indeed! Since you are so passing wise, you ought to have told me days ago that a great earthquake would come to-night. That I could have understood; but it seems that you knew as little there as the rest of us. I believe old Jakobina is wiser than you.

Sølvi. I don't know how wise she is, but I do know of people who go through life as if they were blind. They may have been living in the same place all their lives, and yet they have never seen the landscape they live with—neither its beauty nor its peculiar character.

Sveinungi. They haven't? (Points toward the "hraun.") I have been out there in a snowstorm so heavy that I could scarcely see a hand before me, and shall I tell you how I found my way? I knew where I was by feeling before me with my hands. (Laughs.) No, I have never seen the hraun!

Sølvi. I did not say that you were among the blind, and I am sure you are human enough not to force your daughter to marry against her will. It would not give you much joy to feel that you had made her unhappy for her whole life. If you think you do not know me well enough, you can find out all you wish from myself or from others.

Sveinungi. I have no desire to learn anything about you, and you need not worry about my daughter. She will stay here with me.

Sølvi. Ljot is not a child any longer. She can decide for herself.

Sveinungi. Perhaps you think she can't live without you. (To Ljot.) If you care as much for him as he imagines, I will let you prove it. I will let you choose between him and me. If you choose him, then I have no daughter any more.

Ljot. You don't mean to force me to such a choice!

Sveinungi. Can you for a single moment be in doubt about whom to choose of us two—him or your old father?

Ljot (kneeling). He is so unutterably dear to me.

Sveinungi. Get up! I don't want to see you lying like a dog at my feet.

Ljot (rising). Then you have no daughter.

Sølvi. I knew you would not fail me!

Jorunn. You had better give your consent, Sveinungi, since it cannot be otherwise. I cannot do without my only child.

Sveinungi (goes to Ljot). You are quite free, Ljot; I will not try to force you, but when you have thought it over, you will not leave your father and mother for the sake of a stranger. You are my only child, and you have been the light of my eyes since you were a little tot. When I came home from work I was never too tired to listen to what you had to say. When you stroked my cheek it was like warm summer rain falling on my face. It will be lonely and empty here if you go. You cannot do it.

Ljot. Father, it is you who drive me away.

Sveinungi. You must listen to me. It has always been my intention that you should take the farm, and yesterday when you promised to marry Halfdan it seemed to me that all my wishes had been fulfilled. I was happy, and not only for your sake, but fully as much for the farm. Yet you would leave it now in the midst of misfortune. Look about you! Not a single building is standing. Can you let your old father sit here alone and forsaken? You might as well kill your father. And for whom should I build it up again if you are not to have it? It might as well be left to rot on the ground.

Ljot. You don't know, father, how much I care for him. I used to dream often that the mountains fell so that I could see the land beyond. To-night it seemed to me that the mountains fell.

Sveinungi. You are a wilful girl. (To Sølvi.) Could you think of taking over my farm, perhaps?

Sølvi. I could not—

Sveinungi (interrupting). Do you two believe that you can cow me? (Pointing to the ruins.) There is a chest of drawers in there that Ljot keeps her clothes in. I will have nothing of hers in my house. (To Sølvi.) Will you go in there with me and bring it out?

Sølvi. I have nothing to do in there.

Sveinungi. You can go, Ljot. I can't bear to see you. (Goes over to the ruins; stands resting his hands on the walls.)

Sølvi (takes Ljot by the hand quietly). It is better that we leave your parents alone for a little while. Exeunt.

Jorunn. You will have to give your consent, Sveinungi. You say yourself that all you have done has been for your daughter.

Sveinungi (turns to Jorunn, passing his earth-stained hand over his forehead). Did you understand what I was about to do? I wanted to get him into the ruins, and then I meant to give the post a shove.

Jorunn. God forgive you, man!

Sveinungi. Now we two must hold together. If we two are of one mind, I believe Ljot will give in. You must try to bring her to her senses.

Jorunn. They are very fond of each other. It warmed my heart to see them. It brought back the days of my own youth. I feel sure it would be a sin to try to part those two.

Sveinungi. And you say that!

Jorunn. I think it was her fate to meet this man. She has always been a good and dutiful daughter.

Sveinungi. And it was you who went with me into the house! Have you turned against me—you too?

Jorunn (goes to him). You must not make the evil worse than it really is. The man looks as if he came of good people, and we have every reason to believe that he is a capable man. Even if we can't keep Ljot here, as we had hoped to do, she will certainly find time to come and see us once in a while, and we shall have that to look forward to.

Sveinungi. You think only of your daughter. It is nothing to you if my life-work is wasted. I could name you many farms that have been an ornament to the neighborhood as long as they have been handed down from man to man in the same family, but once they have passed into other hands, they have been tended in a makeshift way or left to go to rack and ruin altogether. You have seen those old forlorn places, where the site is overgrown with grass, and the heather has been allowed to spread all over the yard. They remind me of graves. I tell you the truth: if such a fate were in store for my farm, I should wish for nothing but to be lying under the ruins myself.

Jorunn. Who says that your farm will not be rebuilt! You are not so old that you cannot do it without help. If I know you rightly, you always grow younger and stronger whenever there is anything that needs all your powers. In a year or two you will have the buildings up again every bit as fine as before.

Sveinungi. Spare your wheedling! What would be the use, even though I got the houses up again? When my days are over, everything will pass into the hands of careless people. And to think that this should happen only because of a fleeting fancy!

Jorunn. Did it seem to you like a passing whim when Ljot was begging for your consent? To me it seemed that she was pleading for her life.

Sveinungi. Even though this should mean more to my daughter than I think it does, that can alter nothing. It is my right to care for my home and keep it intact even after I am gone. When I am standing out in the hraun and looking toward home, the green yard looks like a spot of sunshine.

Jorunn. You take it for granted that none of your kin will ever reap the benefit of your work, but your daughter is not dead, though she has chosen another man than the one you wanted her to marry. Why should not those two have children? They are both strong and healthy, and there is, after all, a chance that some day one of their sons may take over the farm.

Sveinungi. I dare say a son of his would be the right man!

Jorunn. A daughter's son is often more like his grandfather than his father. You know that as well as I.

Sveinungi. You are like a child playing with soap-bubbles. When one breaks, you are straightway ready to blow a new one. You can't make me play at that game. Even though they should have children, do I know how they would turn out? And you see it the same way yourself, but you are trying to fool me into giving my consent.

Jorunn. What do you gain even if you have your way and part those two? You may bring it about that your daughter becomes one of those sour old maids; for you cannot mean to drag her to the altar against her will.

Sveinungi. I didn't expect you to be against me. You wouldn't mind leaving the farm, if you could live with your daughter. You care more for her than for me.

Jorunn (her voice growing husky). Why do you say this, Sveinungi? I have never weighed my feelings for you two, nor do I intend to do it. I only know that where you are, there I stay too.

Sveinungi. Even this very earth upon my hand is dear to me. I care for it as the old house-leek would if she could feel. As for the young man whom you think so much of, I should have grudged him even to have the earth fall on his face. But you were not born here, as I was. You have not lived here as a child. You are an outsider.

Jorunn. Am I an outsider! I am grown too old to kneel before you as your daughter did, but if you send her away, I know that even though you build your house both larger and finer, the room will seem less light to me, and the smile will be gone from my face. Can you not spare me the sorrow of losing my only child?

Sveinungi. I thought you knew me well enough not to tease me with bootless prayers. What I have said stands.

Jorunn. I don't know what gives you the right to be so heartless. You were tempting God when you went into the house, but He had mercy on you and spared your life, and the very first thing you do is an act of cruelty. (Bursts out sobbing.)

Sveinungi. Don't take to crying, wife.

Jorunn (weeping; sits down on one of the stones that have been torn from the wall by the earthquake). I don't see how I am going to live through it if you send her away.

Sveinungi (stands puzzled for a moment, then goes to her). I understand that you take this very much to heart. Do go into the tent now and lie down. We must try to get over this as best we can.

Jorunn (rising). I am sure I have lost my daughter forever. (Weeps.)

Sveinungi (takes her hands and kisses her on the cheek). I have always said good night to you with a kiss. You have been a good wife to me. I little thought, when you went with me into the house, that you should cry yourself to sleep this very night because of me. (Jorunn clings to him, weeping. Sveinungi releases himself suddenly.) Listen to what I say. You shall not leave me this way. Now you can go to the young folks and tell them that I give my consent. (Moves a little away.) But it will be on one strict condition. (Jorunn wipes her eyes on her apron.) They must promise me that if they have a son, he shall be brought up here with us.

Jorunn (her face lighting up). I believe this thought was sent you by Him who showed mercy upon you this night.

Sveinungi. Even if it should be their only child. Goes to Jorunn. And you can tell them that it is only for your sake I yield. Now you won't cry any more?

Jorunn. God bless you! How happy Ljot will be! (Turns to go.)

Sveinungi. You needn't be in such a hurry. I don't care to have the young folks see that you have been crying. And one thing more; Sølvi must not come here until I send him word. I want to explain to my old friend how all this has come about.

Jorunn. Sølvi will understand. (Sits down, very still, with her hands in her lap, gazing straight before her.) And the boy is to be named Sveinungi. (Unconsciously she passes her right hand back and forth over the edge of the stones.)

Sveinungi. Yes, they can well be used again, the old stones. Now you had better go to Ljot.

Jorunn (rising, pats his arm). Yes, yes, I am going, and I am happy. Exit.

(Sveinungi stands for a moment looking after her, then bends down over the stones, examining them closely. He turns over one stone—and one more—)