the Christmas-tree, with its gold and silver?
OLD MAN. Only paper, boy!
PEHR. And the golden fruits of the tropics?
OLD MAN. Worm-eaten—
PEHR. And the sun—Happiness—how it shines on the children's faces!
OLD MAN. Between times distorted by envy—
PEHR. And the old man who sits there, contented and happy—
OLD MAN. It's a lie! He trembles in his heart for the house rent, which must be paid on the new year—
PEHR. He—the rich man?
OLD MAN. Hides his approaching downfall!
PEHR. And those young people—Do you see how he stretches his arm—
OLD MAN. After the father's money bag!
PEHR. Shame on you! Their lips meet—
OLD MAN. In lust!
PEHR. What is that?—Ah! Now look up there, at the gable window, with the single light—
OLD MAN. Prompted by caution, which demands darkness—
PEHR. By the glow of contentment's calm light—
OLD MAN. Which they stole from the spice stall, and their delight is in planning the next expedition to the city market. I know it, do you hear! And up there, in the palace, where the lights glisten by the thousands and mirror themselves in the wines' sour streams—there they roll—empty heads and empty hearts—who say that they think and feel for the people's welfare! There they roll, between bottles and dishes—
PEHR. Why do you talk so fast? Let me continue—
OLD MAN. No! Away with you and obey, boy!
PEHR. Yes, away from here! I want to go out and see the world. I want to see child-faces—even if they can be clouded by envy's cankerworm! I want to taste the fruit of the tropics even if it is worm-eaten! I would drink the wine though it were gall, and I want to put my arm around a maid's waist, even if a bankrupt father does sit at the hearth stone! I want silver and gold—if in the end it is nothing but dross!
OLD MAN. Hell-fire! who's been here?
A VOICE. Curse not Christmas!
PEHR. What can this mean? It is so strange here to-night—stranger than usual. Father, look at me! Why, that's not his face!
OLD MAN. [Kneeling.] My son! Listen to your father—obey the old man, who wishes you only good; remain within these peaceful walls!
PEHR. It is too late!
OLD MAN. What do I see?—that ring! who gave it to you? [Tries to take the ring from Pehr.]
PEHR. Who are you? You are not my father!
OLD MAN. Your guilty, your unhappy father, who is bound by the witchcraft of the Powers! [Old Man is transformed into a big black cat.]
PEHR. Jesu Maria, help! [Bright rays dart out from Virgin's image; clock strikes twelve.]
PEHR. The witch! The witch! Away, unclean spirit! [Cat vanishes.] And now—[opens tower shutters] for life! [Fingers ring.] To the forest. [Going through window.] Out!
CURTAIN.
ACT TWO
Snow-clad woods; diagonally across stage is an ice-covered brook. Dawn. Wind blows through the trees as curtain rises. Pehr on.
PEHR. So this is the forest, whither my thoughts have so often flown through the clear air, and this is the snow! Now I want to throw snowballs, as I've seen school boys do. It is supposed to be something uncommonly amusing. [He takes up some snow and casts a few snowballs.] H-m! That's not so wonderful! Once again—I think it almost stupid.
But what is it that plays up in the tree tops? The wind—Ah, it sounds rather well. Zoo, zoo, zoo! But one grows sleepy if one listens to that long. Zoo, zoo, zoo! Now it sounds like the gnats on a summer's evening. Strange how short everything is out here in Nature! The dullness in the tower—that was long! Now it's not at all pretty or amusing. [Sees brook.] Why, what is this? Ice! What pleasure can one get from that? Ah, now I remember—one can skate on it. I must try that! [He goes out on the brook; slides; ice cracks; he falls from fright and lies there, stunned.]
[Enter Lisa.]
LISA. [Runs up to Pehr.] There he is! Ah—he sleeps! [Sees something that glitters.] What is that? [Picks up ring, which Pehr dropped when he fell.] A ring! He is sleeping in the snow! What can have happened? He is hurt! What can I do? In the very heart of the forest and right in the snow! Not a human being comes this way. He'll freeze to death if he cannot get away. The good fairy sent me here to look up that boy, but she did not tell me that I should find him half dead in a snow drift! If only it were summer, with the sun shining on the green grass-carpet—
[Lisa fingers ring. Transformation: Landscape is changed from winter into summer; brook loses ice-cake and runs forth between the stones; sun shines on the whole.]
LISA. What can be the meaning of this! [Amazed, glances in all directions. Pehr awakens.]
PEHR. [Rubbing his eyes.] Why, what is this—I fly from the church tower, come into a forest of snow, throw snowballs, skate, bump my head on the ice, lose my senses—then I wake up and find that it is summer! Have I been lying here under the snow six months? No, it doesn't seem likely. [Looks at himself in the brook.] I'm as red as a rose. [Bends over water.] But what do I see down in the deep—A blue sky, green trees, white water-lilies, and right in their midst—a girl!—just like the one the youth had his arm around in the Christmas-home: flowing hair, a mouth like a song, eyes like the dove's!—Ah! she nods to me—I'm coming, I'm coming! [About to plunge into the brook, when Lisa gives a cry. He turns.] There she is! A moment ago she was down here.
LISA. So it seems, but do not always believe your eyes.
PEHR. A strange world, this! But let me see if it is the same girl? [Stares at her.] Yes, it is she. [Starts to run toward her, then catches sight of ring.] What! my ring? You robbed me while I lay senseless! Oh, do not believe your eyes, you said. No! for now I have my first lesson—I wanted to embrace an angel, and I find a thief.
LISA. Do not always believe your eyes, Pehr; investigate before you judge.
PEHR. You are right. I shall do so. Girl, who are you? What is your name?
LISA. Lisa is my name, but who I am you must not know until the time is fulfilled. I came here and found you senseless—on the ice I found your ring, the powers of which I did not know.
PEHR. You have saved me from certain death in the snow. Forgive me! Lisa, you shall go with me on my journey, and you shall see a jolly life.
LISA. You are traveling, you say—What is the object of your journey?
PEHR. I seek—like all the rest—happiness.
LISA. You seek happiness! That is a fleeting thing.
PEHR. Ah, say not so! I can have all that I wish for. Have we not been given the most delightful summer in the middle of winter?
