WISE MAN. Yes, he grew weary one Christmas Eve and freed himself from her. As a punishment, he came under the ban of the Powers; he cannot die, although his heart has been taken from him.

PEHR. Can he never be released from the spell?

WISE MAN. When his son shall have found a faithful woman and brought her home a bride, then the spell will be broken. But that can never be because his son is gone forever.

PEHR. What has become of him?

WISE MAN. He went out in the world.

PEHR. Then why can he never get any bride, poor boy!

WISE MAN. Because one who loves only himself can never love anyone else.

PEHR. He means the old man, my father. [Wise Man sinks through floor; but vanishes. It begins to dawn.]

PEHR. "He who loves only himself "—So said Lisa also—But I hate myself, I loathe myself after the cowardly things I have done, and I love Lisa! Yes, I love her, I love her! [Sun shines on waves and lights up pine woods to right; clouds disperse. A boat is seen out at sea, it comes nearer and nearer and Lisa is seen at the rudder. She beckons to Pehr as the boat recedes.]

Sea-gulls in the air, tell her! Sunbeams, carry my words on your pillars of fire, and bear them to her. But where must I seek thee—where? [Boat is seen on horizon a moment.] It is she! Now, ring, fulfill my last wish and take me to her! The ring is gone! Woe, what does this augur? Is my story ended, or shall it now begin perhaps? Lisa, my soul's belovéd! [He runs up on cliff and waves.] If you hear me, answer; if you see me, give me a sign! Ah—she turns out toward the fjord—Well, then, storm and sea, that separate me from all that my heart loves, I challenge you to battle for the highest prize! [Pushes out boat drawn up on shore.]

Blow, wind, and rock, wave! My weak keel shall cleave you like a sword. On, my boat, even though we miss the goal, let us struggle on till we sink!

CURTAIN.

ACT FIVE

SCENE: Interior of a little country church, with frescoed ceiling. At back, centre, altar with crucifix; to left, pulpit; on a pillar down left an image of Saint Bartholomew with skin in hand; directly opposite, on a pillar, image of Saint Laurence with the grill. Broom is propped against altar railing. Two rows of praying stools at right and left sides form an aisle from front to altar. At right a confessional; at left an iron door.

[The Elf stands in one window, the Fairy in the other.]

ELF. It was not the old man that ate up the porridge, it was the rats.

FAIRY. Then it was not to do Pehr a kindness that you sent him out in the world, but to harm the old man!

ELF. Even we immortals can make mistakes. Let, us make amends for our fault.

FAIRY. If it is not too late?

ELF. How so?

FAIRY. Pehr is a misanthrope and cannot become reconciled to life.

ELF. Lisa will rectify all that, and then the old man will have atoned for his sin. One must patch where one has torn.

FAIRY. I have already made my preparations.

ELF. Here?

FAIRY. Here in this sanctuary whose floor we may not tread.

ELF. And why not? True, it is holy ground, and we were not allowed to become participants in the Great Redemption because—well, because something which we mustn't know about came between. But that does not prevent the humans from believing some good of us; and in that they do right, for the matter has its sides. Meantime, I shall not absent myself—even if I may not be near to witness that this reconciliation comes out all right. Even we lost souls can rejoice in the happiness of others. Farewell, but not for long.

FAIRY. Farewell. [Elf and Fairy vanish.]

[Enter Lisa.]

LISA. Here in this peaceful church the good fairy promised me that I should meet him—How shall I behold him now? Has he learned aught of life, or is he still the same selfish, pleasure-loving youth who pursues only fickle fortune? If he had had the courage to do a bad act in a good cause, then he would at least have shown that he could make a sacrifice for something besides himself; for the most that we can give to a cause is our precious regard for ourselves. Higher powers demand that such and such shall take place; they choose the instruments where they will and none may give up the commission, even if it means going under. My friend was not that sort, and therefore, therefore—Hush! I hear footsteps—It is he! No, I would not meet him yet; I must collect my thoughts. If I conceal myself here—in the confessional—[Steps in.]

[Enter Pehr.]

PEHR. [Drops down on a prayer stool, left.] She flees from me, as I flee from my bad thoughts! Alone, forsaken—what more is there for me in life? Naught have I learned of life save its nothingness, and no wishes are left to me but evil ones. My soul would be like an empty shell were it not filled with her! My life—Ah, what has it been? [Pall pounds on floor.] What was that?—Ghosts in the sunshine? That would be a funny sight! [Broom raps on floor.] Again! 'Tis said that one can see ghosts in broad daylight, if one peeps through a door-crack, it is even maintained that one can see oneself. Oneself—! If one could really do that, how easy it would be to evade one's worst faults! I'll try it. [Opens door left and places himself behind it.]

[Pehr's shadow steps up into the pulpit, drinks from the goblet, and turns hour-glass. Pehr stands at door with back to spectators.]

SHADOW. My beloved hearers! [Pall, Broom, Bartholomew and Laurence stir.] My beloved hearers and you, Pehr, who stand behind the door, my sermon will not be long since the hour is already late and it is especially to this so-called Lucky Pehr that I would address a few remarks. Yes, you, Pehr—you have rushed through life like a fool, in pursuit of fortune; all your wishes have been fulfilled—save one and they have brought you no happiness. Pay attention, you who stand behind the door! You have made no leap through life, for on that track one runs well. All the experiences through which you think you have passed were but dreams; for, believe me, one wins no wishes with luck-rings out here in Reality; here one gains nothing without labor. Do you know what labor is?—No! It is something very heavy; but it must be heavy the sweeter the repose—Labor, Pehr, and be honest, but don't become a saint, for then you would be vain, and it is not our virtues but our faults that make us human. Listen well, you who stand behind the door—Life is not such as you saw it in your youthful dreams. It is a desert, that is true; but a desert which has its flowers; it is a stormy sea, but one that has its ports by verdant isles. Heed, Pehr! If you want to go forth into life now, then do it in earnest. But you will never be a real man without a woman—Find her! And now, pay close attention, Pehr, for I shall leave the word to Saint Laurence after dismissing you with the sage's eternally young and eternally old exhortation—Know thyself! Saint Laurence has the word. [Shadow vanishes.]

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