T 
 8864- 
 A315 
 1890 
 
 EN'S Plays 
 
 THE 
 
 Lady from the Sea 
 
 • * .. 
 
 A Drama in Five Acts 
 
 I 
 
 Pri 
 
 CC 2i 
 
 Cents 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER 6 CO. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ■'IF^ 
 
(S^atmll Unioecaitg ffiihrarg 
 
 Jlt^aca, ^eta lath 
 
 BOUj^HTWW-lTH THE ItsTCOME-OF ^HE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 HENRY W. SAGE 
 
 tSfl 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PT 8864.A315 1890 
 
 from the sea 
 
 3 1924 026 307 904 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026307904 
 
THE 
 
 Lady from the Sea 
 
 A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 By HEl^EIK IBSEN" 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEQIAN BY 
 
 CLARA BELL 
 
 Copyright, 1890, by John W. Lotkll Co, 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H- BAKER & CO. 
 
-v^^l^ 
 
 T 
 
 A 3S/i'S' 
 
 iM 
 
 .3 'o; 
 
 Z'y).. 
 
OHABACTEE& 
 
 Doctor Wan&bl, A Parish Doctor. 
 Mes. Ellida WANaEL, His Second Wife. 
 
 BOLETTE ■ 1 
 
 „ ' c His Daughters by Ms Mrst Wife. 
 
 Hilda, ^ = » v 
 
 Arnholm, a Professor. 
 
 Lyngstrand . 
 
 Ballested. 
 
 A Stranger. 
 
 Young People op the Toww. 
 
 Tourists. 
 
 Summer Visitors. 
 
 The action takes place in the summer season, at a smaU 
 town cm. ajiord on the north coast of Norway. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 [Doctor Wangel's house ndth a large furnished verandah 
 to the left. A garden in front and round the house. 
 In front of the veranda a flagstaff. In the garden 
 to the right a sumwer-house with a table and seats; a 
 fence with a small gate in the background. Beyond 
 the fence a path along the shore. A walk leads to this 
 gate. Between trees the fiord is seen, with high hills 
 and peaks in the distance. It is a warm, bright sum- 
 mer day.] 
 
 [Ballested, middle-aged, dressed in an old velvet jacket 
 and broad felt hat, stands by the flagstaff arranging 
 the ropes. The flag lies on the ground. A little way 
 off are an easel and canvas; beside them on a camp- 
 stool lie brushes, a palette and a paint-box.] 
 
 [Bolette'Wangel comes out of the house on to the veranda. 
 She carries a large vase with flowers, which she places 
 on a table.] 
 
 BoLETTE. Well, Ballested, can you make it work ? 
 
 Ballested. Certainly, Miss Wangel; that is a very 
 small matter. May I ask do you expect a stranger to 
 see you to-day ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Tes; we expect Professor Arnholm this 
 morning. He arrived in the town last night. 
 
8 THE LADY FR OM THE SEA. 
 
 Ballbsted. Arnholm? Stay, was not Arnholm the 
 name of the man who was tutor here some time since ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Tes; it is the same. 
 
 Ballested. Ah, indeed. Then he is coming into the 
 neighborhood again ? 
 
 BoLETTE. That is why we wish the flag to fly. 
 
 Ballested. "Why, that is very natural. 
 BoLETTE goes back into the room. Soon after Ltngstrand 
 comes along from the path on the right and stands inter- 
 ested by the easel and painting things. He is a slight 
 young man, simply but decently dressed, and looks ill.] 
 
 Ltngstrand {outside the fence). Good morning. 
 
 Ballested (turning round). Heh ! Good morning. 
 (He hoists the flag.) That's done — now for the next 
 thing. {Hefastens the ropes and busies himself at the easel.) 
 Good morning — I have not indeed the pleasure 
 
 Ltngstkand. You it would seem are a painter. 
 
 Ballested. So it would seem. Otherwise I s-hould 
 not be painting. 
 
 Ltngstrand. That is self-evident. Might I be allowed 
 to come in ? 
 
 Ballested. Tou would perhaps like to see it closer ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes, very gladly. 
 
 Ballested. There is not much to see. But pray come 
 in. You can walk round. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Many thanks. {He comes in ai the garden 
 gate.) 
 
 Ballested {painting). It is the fiord out there among 
 the islands that I am trying to paint. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes; I see that. 
 
 Ballested. But figures are still wanting. Here in 
 the town there is not a model to be found. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 9 
 
 Ltngstband. Then there are to be figures in it? 
 
 ■Ballested. Tes. Here by the rock in the foreground 
 a half-dead mermaid is to be lying. 
 
 Ltngstkand. Why half-dead? 
 
 Ballested. She has wandered in from the sea and 
 can not find her way out again. And so she lies dying 
 in the brackish water you are to understand. 
 
 Ltngstrajtd. Aye, to be sure. 
 
 Ballested. It was the lady of the house here who 
 put it into my head to paint something of the kind. 
 
 Ltngsteand. What will you call the picture when it 
 is finished ? 
 
 Ballested. I thought of calling it the Mermaid's 
 Death. 
 
 Ltnqstband. That does capitally. Tou can make a 
 good thing of it, I am sure. 
 
 Ballested {looking at him). One of the profession, 
 perhaps ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. a painter, do you mean ? 
 
 Ballested. Yes. 
 
 Lyngstrand. No, not exactly. But I mean to be a 
 sculptor. My name is Hans Lyngstrand. 
 
 Ballested. And you are a sculptor? Aye, aye. 
 Sculpture is a beautiful and pleasing art. I believe I 
 have seen you about the streets and roads. Have you 
 been staying long hereabouts ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. No; I have been here only a fortnight. 
 But I shall see if I can remain through the summer. 
 
 Ballested. Do you enjoy the watering-place life ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Tes. I shall see if it gives me a little 
 strength. 
 
 Ballested. But you are not weak ? 
 
10 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes I am rather weak. But it is nothing 
 serious. It is only a little tightness about the chest. 
 
 Ballested. Oh, a mere trifle. Still you should take 
 the advice of a clever physician. 
 
 Lyngstkand. I thought of taking an opportunity of 
 consulting Dr. Wangel. 
 
 Ballested. Aye, do so {looking out to the left). Here 
 comes the steamboat; crowded with passengers on deck. 
 Certainly traveling has developed in the most amazing 
 way these last few years. 
 
 Lyngstrand. There is a great deal of traffic here it 
 seems to me. 
 
 Ballested. The place is full of summer visitors. I 
 fear very much that our good town will loose its 
 primitive character, from the advent of so many 
 strangers. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Are you a native of the place ? 
 
 Ballested. No, but I have acclimatized myself here. 
 I am bound to the spot by the ties of time and habit. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Then you have lived here a long time ? 
 
 Ballested. Well, seventeen or eighteen years. I 
 came with Skive's Theatrical Company. But we got 
 into financial difficulties, and so the company was 
 broken up and scattered to the winds. 
 
 Lyngstrand. But you yourself remained behind ? 
 
 Ballested. I remained. And -it has turned out well 
 for me. I worked at first at decorative painting 
 principally, I must tell you. 
 
 BoLETTE comes out with a rocking chair which she places 
 in the veranda. 
 
 BoLETTE {speaking into the room). Hilda, see if you 
 can find the worked footstool for father. 
 
THE LADS FBOU THE SEA. H 
 
 Lyngstrand (going toward the vai anda and greeting her). 
 Good morning Miss Wan gel. 
 
 BoLETTE (6y the balustrade). Why! Is it you Mr. 
 Lyngstrand? Good morning. Excuse me a moment. 
 {She goes into the house.) 
 
 Ballested. So you know the family. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Not well. I have only met the young 
 ladies here and there at other houses. And I have 
 talked a little with the doctor's wife when the band 
 plays at the "BelTevue.'' She tO(d me I might have 
 the pleasure of calling on them. 
 
 Bailested. Well, I tell you what. You should culti- 
 vate the acquaintance. 
 
 Lymostband. I have been thinking of coming to call. 
 A formal visit is expected of me. If I could only find 
 a pretext. 
 
 Ballested. Oh! a pretext (toofezwgr wp <Ae Ze/l!). Plague 
 take it all ! {He gathers up his things.) The steamboat 
 is come in to the landing-place. I must go to the 
 hotel; perhaps some of the new-comers may want me. 
 I also employ myself as hairdresser and friseur, I 
 must tell you. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Tou are evidently a versatile genius. 
 
 Baxlested. In a small place a man must know how 
 to ac — acclimatize himself to various professions. If 
 you should want anything in the hair-dressing way — 
 a little pomatum or the like — you have only to ask for 
 Ballested the dancing-master. 
 
 Lyngstrand. The dancing-master ? 
 
 Ballested. Leader of the company of horn-players, 
 if you prefer it. We give a concert this evening at the 
 
12 TRE LADY FBOM THE SEA. 
 
 Bellevue. Good by, good by. {He goes through the iron 
 gate with his painting things, and off to the left.) 
 
 Hilda comes out with a stool, and Bolettb carrying more 
 flowers. Lyngstband hows to Hilda from, the garden 
 below. 
 
 Hilda {standing by the balustrade does not return his 
 bow). Bolette told me that you had ventured in to-day. 
 
 Ltngsteand. Yes, I took the liberty of coming in for 
 a little while. 
 
 Hilda. Have you been out for a morning's walk ? 
 
 Lynqsteand. Oh, no. There is still time for a long 
 walk to-day. 
 
 Hilda. Have you been bathing then ? 
 
 LvNGSTRAND. Tes, I was in the sea for a little while. 
 I saw your mother there. She went into her bath-house. 
 
 Hilda. Who was it ? 
 
 Ltngstband. Your mother. 
 
 Hilda. Ah, yes, yes. (5Ae places the stool in front of 
 the rocking-chair.) 
 
 Bolette {interposing). Did you see anything of 
 father's boat out on the fiord? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Aye, I fancied I saw a sailing boat 
 steering landwards. 
 
 Bolette. That was certainly papa. He has been out 
 to the islands to visit a sick person. {She arranges the 
 things on the table.) 
 
 Lyngstrand {walking up to the steps of the veranda). 
 Why these are perfectly splendid flowers. 
 
 Bolette. Yes, does not it look pretty ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Oh, it is quite lovely. It looks as if 
 there were a wedding in the house. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 13 
 
 Hilda. It is very much, the same thing. 
 
 Ltngsteakd. I might easily have guessed it. It is 
 your father's birthday no doubt. 
 
 BoLETTE {with a warning look at Hilda). H'm, h'm. 
 
 Hilda {without heeding it). No, it is mother's. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Indeed — your mother's. 
 
 Bolette (angrily but in a low voice). But Hilda 
 
 Hilda (in the same tone). Let me be. ( To Ltngstrand.) 
 You are surely going home now to have your breakfast. 
 
 Ltngstband {going down the steps). Yes, I ought, to 
 be sure, to get something to eat. 
 
 Hilda. I suppose that the cooking is very good down 
 at the hotel ? 
 
 Ltngstband. I am no longer living at the hotel. It 
 is too expensive for me. 
 
 Hilda. Where are you staying now ? 
 
 Ltngstband. I am living at Mrs. Jensen's. 
 
 Hilda. Which Mrs. Jensen's ? 
 
 Ltngstband. Old Mother Jensen, the midwife. 
 
 Hilda. Excuse me Mr. Lyngstrand, but I really have 
 other things to do 
 
 Ltngstband. Ah, I ought not to have said that to 
 you. 
 
 Hilda. What should you not have said? 
 
 Ltngstband. What I said then. 
 
 Hilda {looking at him unpleasantly). I do not under- 
 stand you in the least. 
 
 Ltngstband. No, no. But I will now say good-by to 
 you, young ladies. 
 
 Bolette (coming to the steps). Good-by, good-by Mr. 
 Lyngstrand. You must excuse us to-day — but 
 another time — when you can find time — and when 
 
14 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 you are inclined — in short, you must look in on my 
 father and — and on us. 
 
 Lyngstband. I will; many thanks. I shall do so with 
 the greatest pleasure. {He bows and goes out by the 
 garden door. As he goes along the path out to the left he 
 bows again towards the veranda.) 
 
 Hilda {half aloud). Adieu, Monsieur. Be so good as 
 to greet Mother Jensen from me. 
 
 BoLETTE {in a low voice shaking her by the arm). Hilda! 
 you ill-behaved girl! Are you gone mad? He might 
 easily have heard you. 
 
 Hilda. Pshaw ! Do you think I care about that. 
 
 BoLETTE {looking to the right). Here comes papa. (Db. 
 Wangel in a traveling suit and with a small handbag, comes 
 up from the foot path.) 
 
 Wangel. Here I am again little girls. {He comes up 
 the path on the right.) 
 
 Bolette {goes down into the garden to meet him). Oh, I 
 am so glad you are come. 
 
 Hilda {also going down to him). Have you done with 
 going out for the whole day now father ? 
 
 Wangel. Oh, no. I must go down to the office in an 
 hour or so. Tell me, do you know whether Arnholm 
 is come ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, he came last night; he is at the hotel; 
 we sent to inquire. 
 
 Wangel. Then you have not yet seen him ? 
 
 Bolette. No. But he will certainly call on us this 
 morning. 
 
 Wangel. Yes; that he quite certainly will. 
 
 Hilda {pulling him). Now, father, you must look 
 'about you. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. • 15 
 
 Wangel (looking up at the veranda). Ah, I see well 
 enough, child ; you have made it quite gay. 
 
 BoLETTE. Do not you think we have made it pretty ? 
 
 Wasgel. Indeed, I must say you have. Are we — 
 are we alone in the house now ? 
 
 Hilda. Yes; she is gone. 
 
 BoLETTE {interrupting her). Mamma is gone to bathe. 
 
 Wangel {looks kindly at Bolette and pais her on the 
 head; then he says vrilh some hesitation). Listen, children. 
 Will you have all this remain so all day ? And the 
 flag hoisted all day, too ? 
 
 Hilda. Oh, you might be sure of that, papa. 
 
 Wangel. H'm — ^well — ^but are you 
 
 Bolette {looking at him and nodding). Tou may make 
 believe that we have done all this for Professor Arn- 
 holm's sake. When such a good friend comes for the 
 first time to greet you 
 
 Hilda {smiling and nudging him). Think — he who was 
 Bolette's teacher, father ! 
 
 Wangel {vnth a faint smile). Tou two are really a pair 
 of hussies. Well, Heaven knows — it is, after all, quite 
 natural that we should remember her who is no more 
 among us. But at the same time — here, Hilda {he 
 gives her the traveling hag). Go down to the office with 
 that. No, my children, I do not like all this. It is 
 overdoing it, you understand. That we should do this 
 every year Well, what is to be said? It can, per- 
 haps, not be done in any other way. 
 
 Hilda (is about to go down the garden to the left vnth the 
 bag, hut stands still, turns round and points urithher hand). 
 See, some gentlemen are coming from out yonder. 
 That must certainly be the professor. 
 
16 THE LADY FROM THE GEA. 
 
 BoLETTE {looking out). That is the professor. "Well, 
 that is a good joke. Do you think that middle-aged 
 man is Arnholm. 
 
 Wangel. Wait a minute, child. If I may trust my 
 senses — is it not he ? Certainly, certainly it is. 
 
 BoLETTE (gazing in silent astonishment). Tes, good 
 Heavens ! I belieye it is. 
 
 Peofessob Arnholm in an elegant morning suit, niith gold 
 spectacles and a light cane, comes up the path from the 
 left. He seems somewhat over-fatigued, looks round 
 the garden, greets them in a friendly fashion and comes 
 in through the gate. 
 
 Wangel {meeting him). Welcome, dear Professor. A 
 hearty welcome back to the old place. 
 
 Arnholm. Thank you, thank you. Dr. Wangel. A 
 thousand thanks. ( They shake hands and come together 
 across the garden.) 
 
 Arnholm. And there are the girls (he holds out his 
 hands as he looks at them). I should' hardly have known 
 them again. 
 
 Wangel. No, that I can well believe. 
 
 Arnholm. And yet — Bolette perhaps. Yes — I 
 should have recognized Bolette. 
 
 Wangel. Scarcely, I think. It must be eight or nine 
 
 years since you saw her . Oh yes, there have been 
 
 many and great changes here in that time. 
 
 Arnholm {looking about him). I fancy not so very many. 
 Excepting that the trees are very much grown — and 
 that your arbor has been made 
 
 Wangel. Oh, outside this garden too 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 17 
 
 Arxholm {smiling). Also, of course, that you now 
 have two grown up and marriageable daughters. 
 
 Wangel. Oh, only one of them is marriageable. 
 
 Hilda {aside). Nay, only listen to papa. 
 
 Wangel. But now, what do you think of sitting 
 a while on the veranda. It is cooler than this. Pray 
 come. 
 
 Arnholm. Thank you, thank you, dear doctor. ( Tkey 
 go up ; Wangel offers Aenholm the rocking-chair.) 
 
 Wasgel. There. Now you shall sit there quite 
 quietly and rest yourself; for you really look some- 
 what tired after your journey. 
 
 Arnholm. Oh, that is nothing. Here, amid these 
 surroundings 
 
 Bolette {to Wangel). Shall I bring a little syrup and 
 soda-water into the garden-room ? It will soon be too 
 hot out here. 
 
 Wangel. Avo, do so my child. Let us have some 
 soda-water and syrup. And a little cognac, too, perhaps. 
 
 Bolette. What, cognac as well? 
 
 Wangel. Only a little. In case it should be wanted. 
 
 Bolette. Yes, very well. Hilda, go down to the 
 office with that bag. (Bolette goes into the house, shut- 
 ting the door afler her. Hilda takes up the hag and goes 
 offthroTigh the garden behind the house, to the left.) 
 
 Arnholm {whose eyes have followed Bolette). That is 
 really a — those are really two beautiful girls who have 
 grown up for you. 
 
 Wangel {seating himself). Yes; do not you think so ! 
 
 Arnholm. Bolette is quite remarkable — and Hilda, 
 too. But you, my dear doctoi — do you think of 
 remaining here all your life ? 
 2 
 
18 THE LAD Y FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wangel. Oh, yes, that is quite certain. " Here born 
 and here buried," as the sajing goes. Here have I 
 lived in perfect happiness with her who is now gone 
 from us — her whom you knew when you were here 
 before, Arnholm. 
 
 Aenholm. Yes, yes. 
 
 Wangel. And here I still live, just as happily, with 
 her who now fills her place. Oh, I may say that 
 throughout a long life Fate has been very good to 
 me. 
 
 Abnholm. But you have no children by your second 
 marriage ? 
 
 Wangel. We had a little boy — two years and a half 
 ago. But we did not keep him long; he died when he 
 was four or five months old. 
 
 Arnholm. And is your wife not at home to-day ? 
 
 Wangel. Oh, yes; she must soon come in. She is 
 down at the baths. She goes every day at this hour, 
 whatever the weather. 
 
 Abnholm. Is she ailing, then? 
 
 Wangel. Not to say ailing, exactly, though she has 
 certainly been very nervous these few years past. At 
 times, that is to say. I can not exactly make out what 
 is to be done with her. But this bathing in the sea is 
 life and delight to her, you see. 
 
 Arnholm. I remember that of old. 
 
 Wangel {with a scarcely perceptible smUe). To be sure. 
 You knew Ellida at the time when you yere teaching 
 inSkjoldvik? 
 
 Arnholm. Of course. She often came on a visit to 
 the parsonage ; and I met her, too, frequently, when 
 I was out at the lighthouse where her father lived. 
 
THE LADY FROM TBE SEA. 19 
 
 Wangel. Her life there, as you may believe, has set 
 his deep marks on her. The people in the town here 
 can not understand her at all. They call her the Lady 
 from the Sea 
 
 Abnholm. Do they ? 
 
 Wangel. They do. So you see — Talk to her of the 
 old days, dear Arnholm ; that wiU do her heart good. 
 
 Abnholm {looking at him doubtfully). Have you any 
 particular reason for thinking that ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes; certainly^I have. 
 
 Ellida's voice is heard coming up from the garden to 
 the right. 
 
 EiiiDA. Is that you Wangel? 
 Wangel {rising). Tes, dear. 
 
 Ellida Wangel wearing a large, loose vyrappm' and with 
 wet hair hanging over her shoulders comes from among 
 the trees by the arbor. Professor Arnholm rises. 
 
 Wangel {smiles and holds out his hands to her). Well, 
 here is our mermaid. 
 
 Ellida {goes eagerly up to the veranda and seizes his 
 hands). Thank God that I see you again. When did 
 you come ? 
 
 Wangel. But just now; a short time since {pointing 
 to Abnholm). But will you not greet an old accquaint- 
 ance? 
 
 Ellida {offering her hand to Arnholm). So here you 
 are? Welcome. And excuse me for not being at 
 home 
 
 Arnholm. Oh, I beg Make no ceremony. 
 
 Wangel. Was the water nice and fresh, to-day ? 
 
20 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Fresh ! Good Heavens ! The water is never 
 fresh here; so lukevyarm and so dull. Ugh ! The 
 water is sick here in the fiords. 
 
 Arnholm. Sick ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, sick. And I believe it makes me sick 
 too. 
 
 Wangel {smiling). Well, you recommend the bathing 
 place, I must say. 
 
 Abnholm. ^I rather believe that you, Mrs. Wangel, 
 have a peculiar affinity both, to the sea and to all that 
 belongs to it.^ 
 
 Ellida. Yes, perhaps so. I almost believe it myself. 
 But see how festal the girls have made everything in 
 your honor. 
 
 Wangel (embarrassed). H'm {He looks at his 
 
 watch.) I must very soon 
 
 Arnholm. Was it really in my honor ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, that you may be quite sure. Wo do 
 not do such things every day. Ugh! How fright- 
 fully hot it is here under this awning. {She goes down 
 into the garden.) Come here. Hero at any rate there 
 is a breath of air. {She sits down in the arbor.) 
 
 Arnholm {following her). I fancied the air felt quite 
 fresh here. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, to you who are accustomed to the stuffy 
 atmosphere of a big town. It is perfectly frightful in 
 summer tiine, I have heard. 
 
 Wangel {about to go down into the garden). My dear 
 Ellida, now will you do what you can to entertain our 
 good friend for an hour 
 
 Ellida. Have you business to attend to? 
 
 Wangel. Yes, I must go down to the office and then 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 21 
 
 I must change my dress a little ! But I shall not be 
 away long. 
 
 Abnholm (sitting down in the arbor). Do not hurry, 
 dear doctor. Tour wife and I shall have enough to 
 talk over to pass the time. 
 
 Wangel (nodding). Oh, yes, of that I am quite sure. 
 
 Well, till we meet again • (He goes out of the garden 
 
 to the left). 
 
 Ellida (after a short silence). Do not you think it is 
 pleasant here? 
 
 Arnholm. I find it very pleasant here now. 
 
 Ellida. This summer-house is called my summer- 
 house, for it was I who had it put up — or rather 
 Wangel, to please me. 
 
 Abxholm. And here you are wont to sit ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; I sit here most of the day. 
 
 Arnholm. And the girls as well ? 
 
 Ellida. Ho ; the girls — they stay in the veranda. 
 
 AsNHOLM. 4.nd "Wangel himself ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, Wangel goes to and fro. Sometimes he 
 is here with me, and sometimes with them. 
 
 Arnholm. Is it you who like to have it so ? 
 
 Ellida. I believe that all parties find this arrange- 
 ment best. We can speak across to each other — 
 when we happen to have anything to say. 
 
 Abnholm (after thinking a little while). When I last 
 traveled your way — out at Skjoldvik, I mean — h'm — 
 that is a long time ago. 
 
 Ellida. It is at least ten years since you were there 
 with us. 
 
 Abnholm. Tes; about that. But after that I remem- 
 ber you at the lighthouse. " Little heathen," as the 
 
22 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 old priest used to call you, because, as they said, your 
 father had had you baptized by the name of a ship 
 and not by a Christian woman's name. 
 
 Ellida. And what if he did ? 
 
 Aenholm. How little did I think then that I should 
 see you again here as Mrs. Wangel. 
 
 Ellida. No. At that time Wangel was not yet — 
 at that time the girl's first mother was still alive — their 
 real mother, I should say. 
 
 Aenholm. To be sure, to be sure. But even if it had 
 not been so — even if he had been free — I should 
 never have thought that it would come about. 
 
 Ellida. Nor I neither. Never in the world — at that 
 time. 
 
 Aenholm. Wangel is so worthy, so respected, so 
 thoroughly good, and so kind to every one. 
 
 Ellida (heartily). Yes, indeed. 
 
 Aenholm. But he must be as unlike you, I should 
 have thought, as east and west. 
 
 Ellida. There you are in the right. He certainly is. 
 
 Abnholm. Well, but how then did it come about? 
 How did it happen ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, my dear Arnholm, you must not question 
 me on that point. I should not be able to explain to 
 you. And even if I could, you would never be able to 
 understand or enter into it in the very least. 
 
 Aenholm. Indeed ! (in a lower tone). Have you ever 
 confided to your husband anything about me ? I mean, 
 of course, about the ineffectual step — to which I, once 
 upon a time, let myself be carried away. 
 
 Ellida. No. Can you think it ? Not a word have I 
 breathed to him of — of what you allude to. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 23 
 
 Abnholm. I am glad of that. For I felt a little awk- 
 ward at thinking that perhaps 
 
 EixiDA. You need never feel that. I have only told 
 him — as is true — that you were greatly attached to 
 me, and that you were the truest and best friend I 
 ever had. 
 
 Arnholm. Thank you for that. But teU me now — 
 why did you never write to me after I left. 
 
 Ellida. I thought it might, perhaps, make you angry 
 to have any news of one who — who could not meet 
 you in the way which you had wished. It wae like 
 reopening a painful affair, I fancied. 
 
 Arnholm. "Well — yes, yes. Tou were right there, 
 perhaps. 
 
 Ellida, But why did you never write? 
 
 Arnholm {looking at her with a half-reproachfvl smife). 
 I ? Could I make the beginning ? And I be suspected 
 of wanting to try again after such a rejection as I had 
 experienced. 
 
 Ellida. Oh no; that I can not imagine. Have you 
 never since thought of some one else to marry 'i 
 
 Arnholm. Never. I have remained faithful to my 
 memories. 
 
 Ellida {half in jest). Oh why? Let the sad old 
 memories go. Tou really should rather think of 
 becoming a happy husband, it seems to me. 
 
 Arnholm. Then I must make haste about it 
 
 Mrs. Wangel Kemember — I am already past 
 
 seven and thirty ; I say it with regret. 
 
 Ellida. Well, that is all the more reason to hurry 
 the matter. {She is silent for a time and then says gravely 
 and softly). Listen, my dear Arnholm. I will tell you 
 
24 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 a thing which I could not have told you at the time if 
 my life had depended on it. 
 
 Aenholm. And what is that ? 
 
 Ellida. That when you took that vain step, as you 
 said just now, I could not answer you otherwise than 
 as I did. 
 
 Abnholm. I knew that. You had nothing to give me 
 but your friendship. I always knew that. 
 
 Ellida. But you did not know that all my heart and 
 all my thoughts were at that time elsewhere. 
 
 Arnholm. At that time ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes. 
 
 Arnholm. But it is impossible. You are mistaking 
 the time. I hardly think you knew Wangel then. 
 
 Ellida. I am not speaking of Wangel. 
 
 Aenholm. Not Wangel? But in those days — at 
 Skjoldvik — I remember not a single man there 
 whom I could think of as likely to attract and attach 
 you. 
 
 Ellida. No, no. That I can well believe. For it 
 was such a perfectly crazy thing altogether. 
 
 Abnholm. But let me know more about this affair. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, it is enough for you to know that I was 
 at that time engaged. And now you know 811? 
 
 Aenholm. If you had not been engaged then ? 
 
 Ellida. What then ? 
 
 Aenholm. Then would your answer to my letter have 
 been a different one ? 
 
 Ellida. How can I tell? When Wangel came, my 
 answer was different. 
 
 Aenholm. What object have you now in telling me 
 that you were then engaged ? 
 
THE LAD Y FR OU THE SEA. 25 
 
 Ellida {rising as if alarmed and uneasy). I must have 
 some one to confide in. No, no, remain seated. 
 
 Arnholm. Your husband knows nothing of the 
 matter ? 
 
 Ellida. I told him from the first that my heart had 
 long ago been given to another. But he did not ask 
 to know more, and we have never alluded to it since. 
 It was in fact nothing but a madness, and so it imme- 
 diately came to nothing. That is to say, in a way. 
 
 Aenholm (ming!). Only in a way? Not altogether? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, yes; of course. Oh, dear, kind Arn- 
 holm, it is really not as you think; it is a thing I can 
 not explain. I do not know how I could explain to 
 you. You would only conclude that I was ill, or that 
 I was quite mad. 
 
 Arnholm. My dear lady, you must and shall tell me 
 the whole truth. 
 
 Ellida. -WeU, then, I wiU try. First I will explain 
 to you as a sensible man that — (she looks up and breaks 
 off) wait tUl later. Here comes a visitor. 
 
 Lyngstband {comes into the garden from the path from the 
 l^t ; he has a flower in his button hole, and carries a 
 beautiful, large bouquet wrapped in paper and tied 
 with rii)bon. He stands hesitating by the veranda). 
 
 Ellida {from the summer-house). Are you looking 
 for the girls, Mr. Lyngstrand ? 
 
 Ltngstband {turning round). Oh, you are here. Mrs. 
 Wangle? {He bows and goes towards her.) No. It is 
 not that — not the young ladies, but yourself, Mrs. 
 Wangel. You gave me leave to call upon you 
 
 Ellida. Yea, certainly I did. You are always welcome. 
 
26 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Lyngstband. Many thanks. And as it falls out so 
 fortunately that there is a festival in the house 
 to-day 
 
 Ellida. Why ! How did you know of it ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Ah, ha! I was delighted to make so 
 free as to offer this to Mrs. Wangel. {He hows low and 
 holds out the bouquet.) 
 
 Ellida {smiling). But, my dear Mr. Lyngstrand 
 would it not be more appropriate if you gave the 
 flowers to Professor Arnholm himself ? For it is he 
 properly speaking who 
 
 Lyngsteand (looking puzzled at them both). Excuse me, 
 but I do not know this gentleman. It was merely — 
 I came in honor of your birthday, Mrs. Wangel. 
 
 Ellida. My birthday? You have made some mis- 
 take, Mr. Lyngstrand. It is no one's birthday in the 
 house to-day. 
 
 Lyngsteand {smiling feebly). Oh, I know belter. But 
 I did not suppose that it could be a secret. 
 
 Ellida. What is it that you know ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. That it is your birthday. 
 
 Ellida. Mine? 
 
 Aknholm {looking inquiringly at her). To-day? No, 
 certainly not; no. 
 
 Ellida (to Lyngsteand). How did you hit on that 
 notion ? 
 
 Lyngstband. It was Miss Hilda who betrayed the 
 fact. I was in here before to-day, and asked the young 
 ladies why all this splendor of flowers, and a flag 
 
 Ellida. Yes, and then? 
 
 Lyngsteand. And Miss Hilda replied that it was for 
 her mother's birthday. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 27 
 
 Ellida. Their mother's. Oh, iadeed ! 
 
 Abnholm. Alia! {He and Ellida look meaningly at 
 each other.) Well, since the young gentleman knows 
 it, Mrs. Wangel 
 
 Ellida (to Ltngsteand). Yes, since in short you 
 know it 
 
 Lynqsteasd {again offering the bouquet). May I be 
 allowed to congratulate 
 
 Ellida {taking the flowers). Thank you so very much. 
 Pray sit down a few minutes, Mr. Lyngstrand. (Ellida, 
 Abnholm and Lyngstrand sit down in the arbor.) This 
 matter — my birthday — ought to have been kept a 
 secret, professor. 
 
 Abnholm. It certainly should. It should not have 
 been revealed to the uninitiated. 
 
 Eluda {laying the bouquet on the table). No, just so. 
 Not to the uninitiated. 
 
 Ltngstrand. I assure you I will not mention it to any 
 living soul. 
 
 Ellida. Oh! that is not what I meant. But how are 
 you now ? I fancy you look better than you did. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes, I think that I am going on very 
 well. And next year, when perhaps I may go to the 
 south 
 
 Ellida. Ah, you told the girls that was your inten- 
 tion. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes. In Bergen I have a patron who 
 protects me, and he has promised to help me next 
 year. 
 
 Eluda. How did you come across him ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. It came about in the most fortunate 
 way. I once sailed in one of his ships 
 
^ THE LADY FBOM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Did you ? Did you like the sea ? 
 
 Ltngsthand. No; not in the least. But my mother 
 was just dead, and my father would not keep me at 
 home any longer. So I had a fancy to go to sea. We 
 were wrecked in the English Channel on the return 
 voyage, and that was good luck for me. 
 
 AENHOtM. How was that, pray? 
 
 Lykgstband. It was in consequence of that shipwreck 
 that I fell ill. It fell on my chest; I was so long in 
 the cold water before I was saved; and so I had to 
 give up the sea. It was the greatest good fortune. 
 
 Abnholm. Indeed ? Do you think so ? 
 
 Ltngsthand. Tes. My complaint is not at all danger- 
 ous, and now I can be a sculptor, which I like above all 
 things. Only think — to make models in exquisite 
 clay which yields so deliciously under your fingers ! 
 
 Ellida. And what do you model, then ? Mer- 
 men, perhaps, or mermaids ? Or perhaps some old 
 Viking 
 
 Lyngstrand. Oh, nothing of that kind as yet. As 
 soon as I can, I shall try to do some great work — a 
 group. 
 
 Ellida. To be sure; but what is the group to 
 represent ? 
 
 Lyngstkand. Oh, it should be something which I 
 myself have seen. 
 
 Aenholm. Yes, certainly. Stick to that. 
 
 Ellida. But what is the something to be ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. Well, I have thought it might be a 
 young seaman's betrothed, lying asleep in strange 
 unrest and dreaming. I believe I can do it in such a 
 way that it can be seen that she is dreaming. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 29 
 
 AsNHOLH. Is that to be all? 
 
 Lyngstkand. No, there will be another figure. 
 Another figure is needed. It ■will be her lover, to 
 whom she has been faithless while he was away. And 
 he has been drowned at sea. 
 
 Aknholm. What did you say ? 
 
 EujDA. He is drowned. 
 
 Lyngstband. Yea; drowned at sea. But this is the 
 marvel — that he comes home nevertheless. It is at 
 night, and he stands by the bed and looks at her. He 
 is to be dripping wet, as if he had just been pulled 
 out of the water. 
 
 Ellida {leaning back in her chair). That is a very 
 strange thing {ahe closes her eyes). Oh, I can see it 
 quite plainly and living. 
 
 AsNHOLM. But in heaven's name, Mr — Mr . You 
 
 said just now that it should be something you had 
 seen. 
 
 Ltngstband. Well — and I have seen that In a 
 
 way, that is to say. 
 
 Aenholm. Seen a dead man to 
 
 Lyugstrahd. Well, yes. I do not mean that I have 
 seen it exactly. I have known it by imagination, you 
 understand. But all the same 
 
 "FiT.T.TDA (eager and excited). Tell me everything that 
 you know and can. I must know all about it. 
 
 Abnholm {smiling). Yes, it will exactly suit you. 
 Anything with the flavor of the sea in it 
 
 Eluda. How did it all happen, Mr. Lyngstrand? 
 
 Lyngstband. Why, at the time when we were home- 
 ward bound on board a brig from a town called Halifax, 
 we left a seaman behind in the hospital there, so we 
 
30 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 took an American on board in his place. The new 
 sailor 
 
 Ellida. The American ? 
 
 Ltngstband. Yes; he one day borrowed of our cap- 
 tain a pile of old newspapers which he was everlastingly 
 reading, for he wanted to learn Norwegian, he said. 
 
 Ellida. Indeed? Well 
 
 Ltnostband. It was one evening, in gloomy and 
 overcast weather. Every one was on deck excepting 
 the American and I myself. He had damaged one of 
 his feet so that he could not use it, and I also was 
 ailing and lay in my hammock. Well, there he sat by 
 the port-hole, and read out of the old papers 
 
 Ellida. "Well! Well! ^ 
 
 Ltngsteand. But even while he sat I could hear him 
 growling to himself, as it were; and as I looked at him 
 I saw his face grow as white as chalk. And he crushed 
 and crumpled the paper, and tore it into a thousand 
 bits. But he did it all very quietly. 
 
 Ellida. Did he say nothing at all; did he not speak? 
 
 Lyngstband. Not a word. But presently he said, as 
 if to himself, "Married — to another man — while I 
 was far away." 
 
 Ellida {closing her eyes and speaking in a low voice). 
 He said that ? 
 
 Ltngstband. Yes. And only think, he said it in good 
 Norwegian. He must have had a great talent for 
 foreign languages — that man. 
 
 Ellida. And what next; what happened afterwards? 
 
 Lyngstband. Well the . most wonderful thing, which 
 I shall never forget while I live. He went on in a low 
 voice. "But mine she is, and mine she phall be; and 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 31 
 
 she shall follow me. I will go home and fetch her, a 
 drowned man out of the dark waves." 
 
 Et.t.tda {pours herself out a glass of water. Her hand 
 shakes). Pugh ! How oppressive the heat is to-day. 
 
 LzNGSTBAiro. And this he said with such strength 
 and will, that I thought he must be the man to do it too. 
 
 Eluda. Do you know anything more ? What became 
 of the man ?. 
 
 Lyngstraito. Oh, he is certainly no longer living. 
 
 Ellida (hastily). Why do you believe that ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. We were wrecked soon after in the 
 channel — I had got down into the long-boat with 
 the captain and five others. The steersman was in the 
 smaller boat, and with him the American and another 
 man. 
 
 Ellida. And nothing has been heard of them since ? 
 
 Lyngstrakd. Nothing whatever. My patron wrote 
 of it just lately again in a letter. But, nevertheless, I 
 shall take great delight in making a work of art of it. 
 si can see the sailor's faithless love so living before my 
 eyes^and the avenger, who is drowned, and who, never- 
 theless, comes home from sea — I can see them both 
 quite clearly. 
 
 Ellida.' So can I {she rises). Come, let us go indoors; 
 or rather go down to Wangel. I fancy it is dreadfully 
 hot here. {She goes out of the arbor.) 
 
 Lyngstrand {rising when she does). I, for my part, 
 must take my leave. I only meant to pay a short visit 
 in honor of your birthday. 
 
 Ellida. Well — as you vnll. {Gives him her hand.) 
 Good-by, and thank you for the flowers. 
 
 Lyngstrand {bows and goes out through the gate to the lef(). 
 
32 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Arnholm {stands up and walTcs on with Ellida). I see 
 that the story went to your heart, dear Mrs. WangeL 
 
 Ellida. Oh, yes, you may well say that, although 
 
 Abnholm. But in fact it is nothing else than might 
 have been expected. 
 
 Ellida {looking at him in amazement). Expected ? 
 
 Aknholm. Yes ; it seems so to me. 
 
 Ellida. To be expected that a man should rise 
 again — come again in such a way ! 
 
 Abnholm. But what in the world Is it that half- 
 crazy sculptor's traveler's tale ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, dear Arnholm; he is not so crazy per- 
 haps after all. 
 
 Arnholm. Is it this talk about a dead man that has 
 disturbed you so ? And I who believe that 
 
 Ellida. What did you believe ? 
 
 Ahkholm. I naturally believe that it was mere acting 
 on your part. That you sat here in misery because 
 you were' an intruder at this secretly-kept fanuly 
 festival; because your husband and his children live a 
 life in their memories, in which you have no part. 
 
 Ellida. Oh no, no. That must be as it may. I have 
 no right to expect my husband to be wholly and solely 
 mine. 
 
 Ae^olm. It seems to me that you might have. 
 
 l^LiDA. Tes; but I have not, that is the fact. I too 
 live a life which the others have no part in. 
 / Arnholm. Tou (more gently) ! Am I to understand 
 /you ? Tou really love your husband ? 
 ' Ellida. Oh, indeed, yes. I have learned to love 
 him with all my heart; and for that very reason it is bo 
 dreadful, bo inexplicable, so inconceivable 
 
TBE LADY FROM THE SUA. 33 
 
 Abnholh. Now you must confide your whole and 
 entire trouble to me ! Will you not, Mrs. Wangel ? 
 
 "Rt.t.tda. I can not, my good friend. Not now, at any 
 rate. Later perhaps. 
 
 BoLBTTE comes out on the veranda and down into the 
 garden. 
 
 BoLETTE. Here comes father from the office. Shall 
 we not sit all together in the garden-room ? 
 EixiDA. To be sure ; let us go there. 
 
 Wangel, who has changed his dress, comes up with Hjlsa 
 from behind the house on the left. 
 
 Wamgel. Here I am, you see, a free man. Now I 
 should enjoy swallowing a good cool drink. 
 
 !Ek.LiDA. Wait a little {she goes to the arbor and fetches 
 the boiiquet). 
 
 Hilda. Look, oh, look! All the loveliest flowers. 
 Where did you get them ? 
 
 Ellida. They were given to me by the sculptor Lyng- 
 strand, dear Hilda. 
 
 Hilda (surprised). Lyngstrand? 
 
 BoLETTE (uTieasy). Ha6 Lyngstrand been here — now, 
 again ? 
 
 'ExjUDi. {with a faint smiie). Yes; he came to bring 
 these. In honor of a birthday, you must know. 
 
 BoLETTE {aside to Hilda). Ah I 
 
 Hilda {mutters). The idiot. 
 
 Wangel {wUh painful bewiMerment to Ellida). H'm — 
 yes — ^you see — I will tell you, my dear, good, sweet 
 
 Ellida 
 
 8 
 
34 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida (turning away). Come, girls. We will put my 
 flowers in water with the rest. {They go up to the 
 veranda. Wangel slowly follows them.) 
 
 BoLETTE (to Hilda, in an undertone). Oh, she is really 
 a good-natured soul ! 
 
 Hilda {in an undertone, looking very angry). Insinu- 
 ating creature ! It is only affectation, to please father. 
 
 Wangel {going up to the veranda and pressing Ellida's 
 hand). Thank you — thank you warmly for that, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {standing with the flower-jar). What — should 
 not I, too, do my share towards decorating -for — foi 
 mother's birthday ? 
 
 Aenholm. H'm. {He goes up to Wangel and Ellida. 
 BoLETTE and Hilda remain down in the garden.) 
 
ACT H 
 
 [l^ at the " BeUevue," a wooded height behind the town. 
 A little way off are a belvedere and a weather-cock. 
 Large stones adapted for seats lie round the belvedere, 
 and in the foreground. Far away, in the background, 
 the mouth of the fiord is seen, vnth islands and prom- 
 ontories; the open sea is not visible. It is summer 
 twilight, with a clear orange sky over the rocky peaks 
 far into the distance. A song in five voices is heard 
 faintly from beyond, to the right.] 
 
 I Young people from the town, ladies and gentlemen come in 
 couples from the right in familiar conversation, past 
 the belvidere, and out to the left. Soon after Ballestbd 
 comes as a guide to a party of foreign tourists and 
 their ladies. He is loaded vnth shawls and traveling 
 bags.] 
 
 Baixested (^pointing vnth his stick). Tou Bee, gentle- 
 men and ladies, out there lies another hill. That we 
 will also climb and then descend. {He goes on in Eng- 
 lish, and leads the party off to the left.) 
 
 Hilda comes quickly up from the slope on the right, and 
 stands looking back. Soon after Bolette comes by the 
 same path. 
 
 BoLETTE. But why, my dear, should we run away 
 from Mr. Lyngstrand ? 
 
 Hilda. Because I can not endure to go so slowly up 
 hill. Look how slowly he is coming after us. 
 
36 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, but you know how delicate he is. 
 
 Hilda. Do you believe that he's so ill ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, certainly I believe it. 
 
 Hilda. He was with father this afternoon. I should 
 ■ like to know what father thinks of him. 
 
 BoLETTE. Father told me that he had a thickening of 
 the lungs — or something of the kind. He will not live 
 to be old, father said. 
 
 Hilda. No ! Did he say that? Only think ! that is 
 exactly as I supposed. 
 
 BoLETTE. But for God's sake, you must not show that 
 you know it ! 
 
 Hilda. Oh how can you think of such a thing. 
 {More gently.) Look. Hans has dragged himself up. 
 
 Hans ! Do not you fancy that you can see by his 
 
 appearance that his name is Hans ? 
 
 BoLETTE {in a whisper). Now do behave yourself. I 
 advise you to be quiet. 
 
 Lyngsteand comes up the hill with a parasol in his hand. 
 
 Lyngsteand. I must beg you to excuse me, young; 
 ladies. I can not go so fast as you do. 
 
 Hilda. Have you got a parasol now? 
 
 Ltngstkand. It is your mother's. She said I might 
 use it as a stick, as I had none with me. 
 
 BoLETTE. Are they still below? Father and the others ? 
 
 Ltngsteand. Yes. Your father went for a little while 
 into the refreshment-room, and the others are sitting 
 outside to hear the music. But they are coming up 
 presently, your mother says. 
 
 Hilda {standing to look at him). You are very tired. 
 
 Lynqsteand. Yes. I almost think I am, as it were, 
 somewhat fatigued. I really believe I will sit down 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 37 
 
 for a minute or two. {He sits down on a stone in the 
 foreground.) 
 
 Hilda {standing in front of Mm). Do you know that 
 presently there is to be a dance at the Music place? 
 . LraasTRAND. Yes. I heard that there was some talk 
 of it. 
 
 Hilda. Do you take any pleasure in dancing ? 
 
 BoLETTE {who is gathering heather). Oh, Hilda, let Mr. 
 Lyngstrand get his breath. 
 
 Lyngstrand {to Hilda). Yes. I should like dancing 
 very much, if only I could dance. 
 
 Hilda. Ah ! Have you never learnt, then ? 
 
 -Lyngstband. No, that I never have. But that was 
 not what I meant. I meant that my chest will not 
 allow of it. 
 
 Hilda. That injury which you said you had had? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes. Because of that. 
 
 Hilda. Are you very unhappy because you had that 
 accident ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Oh, no. I can not say that, either. 
 {Smiling.)- For I believe it is the reason why every- 
 body is so kind and friendly and good natured to me. 
 
 Hilda. And it is not dangerous ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. No, not in the least dangerous. That 
 your father plainly gave me to understand. 
 
 Hilda. And so you will get over it as soon as you 
 start on your journey. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Oh, yes; I shall get over it. 
 
 BoLETTE {ivith some flowers). Look, Mr. Lyngstrand, 
 you are to put these in your button-hole. 
 
 Lyngstrand. A thousand thanks. That is really too 
 kind of you. 
 
38 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Hilda {looking over the edge). They are coming up by 
 the path. 
 
 BoLETTE (also looking over). If only they know where 
 to turn ofp. No; they are going wrong. 
 
 Lyngstband (rising). I will run down to direct them 
 and call to them. 
 
 Hilda. Tou must call very loud, then. 
 
 BoLETTB. No; it is not worth while. You will only 
 tire yourself again. 
 
 Lyn&btrand. Oh, it is so easy to go down hill. {He 
 goes out to the right.) 
 
 Hilda. Yes; downhill — yes. {She looks after him.) 
 Now he is jumping. He never thinks that he has to 
 get up again. 
 
 BoLETTE. Poor man ! 
 
 Hilda. If Lyngstand proposed to you, would you 
 accept him ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Are you gone mad now ? 
 
 Hilda. Oh, I mean, of course, supposing he were not 
 ill. An 1 supposing he were not likely to die — ^would 
 you accept him ? 
 
 BoLETTE. I think it would be better if you would 
 have him. 
 
 Hilda. No, not I. He has no money — nothing at 
 all. He has not even enough to live upon. 
 
 BoLETTE. Why do you go about so much with him ? 
 
 Hilda. Oh, I only do so because he is so ailing. 
 
 BoLETTE. I have certainly not observed that you pity 
 him for that. 
 
 Hilda. No, nor do I. But it is so interesting. 
 
 BoLETTB. What is ? 
 
 Hilda. To look at him and make him explain that it 
 
TEE LADY FROM THE SEA. 39 
 
 is not eeriouB. And that he is going to travel and 
 become an artist. He believes it all so firmly, and is 
 so intensely happy over it. And yet it will never come 
 to pass — never in this vyorld. He will not live long 
 enough. It seems to me quite exciting to think 
 of it 
 
 BoLETTE. Exciting I 
 
 Hilda. Yes, I think it exciting. I allow myself that 
 amusement. 
 
 BoLETTE. For shame, Hilda; you are quite a horrid 
 girl. 
 
 Hilda. So I may be. Who cares ? {She looks down.) 
 At last! Arnholm is not good at climbing hills. 
 {Turning round.) I tell you what — do you know what 
 I discovered about Arnholm at dinner ? 
 
 BoLETTE. What? 
 
 ' Hilda. Only think, his hair is beginning to f aU off. 
 Here at the top of his head. 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, nonsense ! That certainly is not true. 
 
 Hilda. It is; and he has wrinkles round both eyes. 
 Heavens, Bolette ! that you should have been so much 
 in love with him, when he used to teach you. 
 
 BoLETTB {smiling). Ah, can you conceive of it? I 
 remember I shed tears of despair because he had said 
 that he thought Bolette an ugly name. 
 
 Hilda. Yes; think of that! {She again peeps over.) 
 Well, only look! Now the Lady of the Sea is chat- 
 tering to him — not to father. I wonder whether 
 those two are making love to each other. 
 
 BoLETTE. You should really be ashamed of yourself. 
 How can you stand there and say such things about 
 her ? Now, when she is so good-natured to us. 
 
i^O THE LADY FROM TEE SEA. 
 
 Hilda. To be sure ! Only fancy that child ! No, a 
 no; there will never be any love lost between us and 'i 
 her. She does not get on with us in any way, nor we 
 with her either. Grod knows what made father bring 
 her into the house. I should not wonder if she were 
 to go mad one fine day. 
 
 BoLETTE. Mad! What should make you think of 
 such a thing ? . 
 
 Hilda. Oh, that would be nothing amazing. Her 
 mother went mad. She died mad, that I know. 
 
 BoLETTE. Well, God knows what you do not poke 
 your nose into. But hold your tongue and do not talk 
 about it. Pray be discreet, for father's sake. Do you 
 hear, Hilda? 
 
 Wangel, Ellida, Arnholm and Ltngstkand come up 
 from the right. 
 
 Ellida {pointing off the stage to the back). There it lies. 
 
 Arnholm. Very true. It must be in that direction. 
 
 Ellida. There lies the sea. 
 
 BoLETTE {to Arnholm). Don't you think it very pretty 
 up here? 
 
 Aknholm. It is grand, it seems to me. A magnifi- 
 cent prospect. 
 
 Wangel. Yes". Have you never been up here 
 before ? 
 
 Arnholm. No, never. In my time I believe it was 
 hardly accessible; there was no footpath up. 
 
 Wangel. Nor any open place cleared. All that was 
 done last year. 
 
 BoLETTE. Over there by Lodskollen the view is even 
 grander. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 41 
 
 "W ANGEL. Shall we go there, EUida ? 
 
 Ellida {seating herself on a stone to the right). Thank 
 you, not I. Bat the others can go. I will sit here 
 meanwhile. 
 
 Wangel. Yes, and I will stay here with you. The 
 girls may take Arnholm round. 
 
 BoLETTE. Would you like to come with us, Mr. 
 Arnholm ? 
 
 Arnholm. Yes, with great pleasure. Is there a good 
 path? 
 
 BoLETTB. Oh, yes. There is a good wide path. 
 
 Hilda. The path is quite wide enough for two people 
 to walk arm in arm. 
 
 Aenholm {in jest). Are we to believe that, little Miss 
 Hilda ? {To Bolette. ) Shall we two put it to the test ? 
 
 BoLETTE {suppressing a smile). I am willing; let us 
 try. {They go off to the left, arm in arm.) 
 
 Hiij>A {to Lyngstband). Shall we go, too ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Arm in arm ? 
 
 Hilda. Well, why not ? I am willing. 
 
 Lyngstband {gives her his arm, smiling wUh pleasure). 
 This is a really comical amusement. 
 
 Hilda. Comical! 
 
 Lyngstband. It looks exactly as if we were engaged. 
 
 Hilda. You certainly can never have walked arm in 
 arm with a lady before, Mr. Lyngstrand. {They go off 
 to the left.) 
 
 Wangel {waiching them from the hiU top). Dear Ellida, 
 now that we are alone for a little while 
 
 Ellida. Yes, come and sit down by me. 
 
 Wangel {sitting down). Here it is fresh and quiet. 
 Now we can have a little talk. 
 
42 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. What about? 
 
 Wangel. About you and our relation to each other, 
 EUida. I see that things can not remain as they are. 
 
 Ellida. What can happen to change them, do you 
 think? 
 
 Wangel. Perfect confidence, my dear. Our life in 
 common — as it used to be. 
 
 Ellida. Oh ! if it were only possible. But it is quite 
 out of the question. 
 
 Wangel. I believe I understand you. From certain 
 expressions which you have let fall now and then, I 
 think so. 
 
 Ellida {vehemently). That you do not. Do not say 
 that you understand 
 
 Wangel. Indeed I do. Tours is an honest nature, 
 Ellida. You have a faithful soul 
 
 Ellida. Yes, that I have ^ 
 
 Wangel. Any relationship in which you can feel 
 yourself at ease and happy must be one of complete 
 and entire confidence. 
 
 Ellida QooTcs at him anxiausly). Well, what then ? 
 
 Wangel. You were not born to be a man's second 
 wife. 
 
 Ellida. What has brought you to that conclusion? 
 
 Wangel. It has often flashed through my mind asa 
 suspicion. To-day it came upon me as certainty. The 
 girl's memorial festival — in me you see their accom- 
 plice. Well, a man's memories can not be wiped out — 
 mine at any rate, can not. I am not made so 
 
 Ellida. That I know. Oh I know that full well. 
 
 Wangel. But you nevertheless are mistaken. For 
 you feel almost as though the children's mother were 
 
TEE LADY FROM THE SEA. 43 
 
 still living, as though she were standing invisible 
 among us. You believe that my mind is equally 
 divided between you and her. It is this thought that 
 makes you angry. Tou find, as it were, something 
 immoral in our relations, and therefore you no longer 
 can — or no longer choose to live with me as my wife. 
 
 Eluda. Have you seen all this, Wangel ? Have you 
 discovered all this? 
 
 Wangel. Yes, to-day I have at last seen into the 
 heart of the matter; to the very bottom of it. 
 
 Ellida. To the very bottom of it ! I hardly think so. 
 
 Wahgel {nsing). I know very well, my dear Ellida, 
 that there is more in it than this. 
 
 Ellida {alarmed). More in it ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes. There is this : that you can not 
 endure your surroundings here. The mountains are 
 a weight, a burthen on your spirit; there is no light 
 here to your eyes. The sky above you is not wide 
 enough. There is no strength or refreshment in the 
 breeze. 
 
 Ellida. In that you judge rightly. Night and day, 
 winter and summer,<it possesses me — an infinite long- 
 ing for the sea.") 
 
 Wangel. I know thft too, dear Ellida. {Laying his 
 hands on her head.) And so this poor sick child shall 
 go home to her own again. 
 
 Ellida. What do you mean by that ? 
 
 Wangel. Just what I say. We will go away. 
 
 Ellida. Go away ? 
 
 Wangel. To some place by the open se^ — some 
 place where jou may find a true home, after your 
 own heart. 
 
44 THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, my dear Wangel, never think of such a 
 thing. It is totally impossible. You can not live hap- 
 pily anywhere in the world but here. 
 
 Wangel. That must be as it may. And besides — 
 do you think I can live happy here without you ? 
 
 Ellida. But here I am. And here I shall still be. 
 You have me with you. 
 
 Wangel. Have I really, truly, Ellida ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, do not talk of that other matter. Here 
 you have all that you live and breathe for. All your 
 work and interest are centered here. 
 
 Wangel. That must ibe as it may, I tell you. We 
 will leave the place and go elsewhere. The matter is 
 settled irrevocably, my dear Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. But what do you really think we shall gain 
 by it?. 
 
 Wangel. You will recover health and spirits. 
 
 Ellida. Hardly I fear. And as for you ! Think of 
 yourself, too. What will you gain ? 
 
 Wangel. I shall win you back again, my dearest. 
 
 Ellida. That you never can. No, no, never, Wangel I 
 That is just what is so horrible, so dreadful to think of. 
 
 Wangel. That we shall see. If you live amid such 
 thoughts here, there is indeed no salvation for you 
 but to go elsewhere. And the sooner the better. 
 The thing is irrevocably fixed — do you hear ? 
 
 Ellida. No, no. God knows ! I would rather tell 
 you everything — the whole truth. 
 - Wangel. Yes, yes; only do that. 
 
 Ellida. For you shall never make yourself miser- 
 able for my sake; especially as it could do us no 
 good. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 45 
 
 "W ANGEL. I have your word now that you will tell me 
 everything — the whole exact truth. 
 
 EixiDA. I will tell you as well as I can. Exactly as 
 I believe I know it; come and sit down by me. {They 
 sU dovtm together on the stone.) 
 
 Wangel. Well, EUida? So 
 
 Ellida. The day when you came and asked whether 
 I could and would be yours, you spoke to me quite 
 openly and honestly about your first marriage. It 
 had been a very happy one, you said 
 
 Wangel. So it was. 
 
 Ellida. Tes, yes; I can quite believe it, dear. It is 
 not from any doubt that I mention it now. I only 
 want to remind you that I on my side was equally 
 frank with you. I told you quite unreservedly that 
 once in my life I had loved another, and that there 
 had been a sort of engagement between us. 
 
 Wangel. A sort of engagement? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, something of the kind. Well, it was 
 very soon at an end. He went away, and I broke it 
 off. I told you all that. 
 
 Wangel. But my dear Ellida why do you bring all 
 this up again now? I really did not seriously care 
 about it, and I never even asked who the man was. 
 
 Ellida. No. You never did. You have always been 
 most considerate. 
 
 Wangel {smiling). Oh, in this case — I believe I could 
 name him myself. 
 
 Ellida. You could? 
 
 Wangel. Out at Skjoldvik and in the neighborhood, 
 there were not many among whom to choose. Or 
 rather, to be correct, there was \m.t one 
 
46 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. You think, no doubt, that it was Arnholm. 
 
 Wan GEL. And was it not ? 
 
 Ellida. No. 
 
 Wangbl. Not he ! Well, then indeed my penetration 
 is at fault. 
 
 Ellida. Do you remember that once, late in the 
 autumn, a large American ship put into Skjoldvik for 
 repairs ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes, I remember it well. It was on board 
 that ship that the captain was found one morning dead 
 in his cabin. I myself inspected the body. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, you did. 
 
 Wangel. The second mate had probably been his 
 murderer. 
 
 Ellida. That no one can tell. It never came to light. 
 
 Wangel. But there could be no doubt all the same. 
 Why, otherwise, should he afterwards have drowned 
 himself, as he di'd ? 
 
 Ellida. He did not drown himself. He went to sea 
 in a ship bound for the north pole. 
 
 Wangel {startled). How do you know? 
 
 Ellida {with conviction). Yes, Wangel, for it was that 
 second mate, to whom I was engaged. 
 
 Wangel {springing up). What ! What do you say ? 
 Is it conceivable ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, so it was. He was the man. 
 
 Wangel. But in Heaven's name, Ellida, how could 
 you fall so low? Betrothed to such a man, to a per- 
 fect stranger ! What was his name ? "^ 
 
 Ellida. At that time he called himself Freeman; 
 but afterwards, in letters, he signed himself as Alfred 
 Johnston. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 4,1 
 
 Wangel. And where had he come from ? 
 
 Ellida. From Finmark, he said. At any rate, he 
 was born in Finland: he had been taken to Finmark 
 as a child; by his, father, I think. 
 
 Wangel. In short, a Finland Lapp. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, so they call them. 
 
 Wangel. What else did you know about him ? 
 
 Ellida. Only that he went to sea very young, and 
 that he had made very long voyages. 
 
 Wangel. And nothing more ? 
 
 Ellida. No. We never happened to talk of other 
 things. 
 
 Wangel. What then did you talk about ? 
 
 Ellida. Mostly about the sea. 
 
 Wangel. Ah, indeed ! About the sea. 
 
 Ellida. Of storm and calm; of the dark nights on 
 the ocean. And we talked of the sea in bright, sunny 
 days; but most of the whales and seals and dolphins 
 which are wont to lie on the rocks in the mid-day heat. 
 And of the seagulls too and ospreys and other sea birds, 
 you know. Only think, is it not strange? When we 
 talked of such things they seemed to rise up before us, as 
 if the sea beasts and birds where somehow akin to him. 
 
 Wangel. And you yourself? 
 
 Ellida. It almost seemed as if they were akin to 
 me too. 
 
 Wangel. Aye, aye. And so it came about that you 
 engaged, yourself to him. 
 
 Ellida. Yes; he said I must. 
 
 Wangel. Must ! Had you no will of your own ? 
 
 Ellida. Not when he was near me. Oh, afterwards 
 it seemed to me qtiite incredible. 
 
48 THU LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wangel. Were you often together ? 
 
 Ellida. No, not so very often. One day he was on 
 shore. He came to see the light-house, and there I 
 made his acquaintance. After that we met now and 
 then; but then there was that affair about the captain, 
 and he had to go away. 
 
 Wangel. Ah — let me hear a little more about that. 
 
 Ellida. It was very early, before daybreak; I had a 
 note from him in which he said that I was to go to him 
 at Bratthammer — you know, the headland between 
 the light-house and Skjoldvik. 
 
 Wangel. I know — I know it well. 
 
 Ellida. I was to go at once, he wrote, for he wanted 
 to speak with me. 
 
 Wangel. And you went ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes. I could not help myself. Well, and 
 he told me that he had stabbed the captain in the night. 
 
 Wangel. He told you so himself? In so many 
 words ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes. But he had only done what was right 
 and just, he said. 
 
 Wangel. Eight and just ! Why, then, did he stab 
 him? 
 
 Ellida. That he would not say. He said that it was 
 not fit for me to hear. 
 
 Wangel. And you took his bare word for it ? 
 
 Ellida. I never thought of doing otherwise. Well, 
 he had to go all the same. But when he took leave of 
 me — you will never think what he did. 
 
 Wangel. No ? Let me hear then. 
 
 Ellida. He took a key-ring out of his pocket, and 
 took a ring he wore off his finger; then he took a little 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 49 
 
 ring I bad, and he slipped these two rings on to the 
 key-ring. Then he said that we must both be married 
 to the sea. 
 
 Wangel. Married? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; so be said. And he threw the key- 
 ring with the other two rings, with all his might, as 
 far as be could into the deep. 
 
 Wangel. And you, Ellida ? Did you consent ? 
 
 Ellida. "Why, yes. Bemember, at that time I 
 thought it must be all right. But, thank God, be 
 soon went away ! 
 
 Wangel. And when be was far away 
 
 Ellida. As you may suppose, I soon came to my 
 senses — came to see bow utterly mad and silly the 
 whole thing bad been. 
 
 Wangel. But you spoke of some letters. Tou have 
 heard from him since ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; I heard from him. First I had a few 
 shoi t lines from Arkangel. He only wrote that be was 
 starting for America, and be told me where I could 
 send an answer. 
 
 Wanghx. And did you write ? 
 
 Ellida. At once. Of course I said that everything 
 must be at an end between us, and he was to think of 
 me no more, and that I should never think any more 
 of him. 
 
 Wangel. And did be, nevertheless, write again ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; he wrote again. 
 
 Wangel. And what answer did be make to what you 
 bad told him ? 
 
 Ellida. Not a single word. He wrote just as though 
 I bad not broken with him at all; quite simply and 
 4 
 
50 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 calmly— that I was to wait for him. When he could 
 receive me he would let me know, and then I was to 
 set out at once. 
 
 Wangel. So he would not release you? 
 
 Ellida. No. So I wrote again, almost word for 
 word what I had written the first time, only still more 
 strongly. 
 
 Wangel. And then did he submit ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, no; do not think it. He wrote as calmly 
 as before; not a word about my having broken with 
 him. So I saw that it was of no use, and I never wrote 
 to him again. 
 
 Wangel. And never heard from him ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, yes; I had three letters from him after 
 that. Once he wrote to me from California, and 
 another time from China. The last letter I received 
 was from Australia. He was then going to the gold 
 mines, and since he has never let me hear of him again. 
 
 Wangel. The man had a singular power over you, 
 
 Ellida. Yes, oh yes — a terrible man! 
 
 Wangel. But you are not to think of him any more — 
 never. Promise me that, my dear, sweet Ellida. Now 
 we will try another cure — a fresher air than this of 
 the fiords — the salt, keen air of the open sea. What 
 do you say to that ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh do not speak of it; do not think of suoh 
 a thing ! There is no help for me in that. I feel it 
 only too surely — out there I could never throw it ofE. 
 
 Wangel. What Exactly, what do you allude 
 
 to, dear ? 
 
 Ellida. Tha.t dreadful weight — that inexplicable 
 burthen on my spirit — 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 51 
 
 Waugel. But ycu have thrown it off. Long ago. 
 When you broke o£E the engagement, and that is long 
 since past. 
 
 Ellida (starling up). No, it is not so, it is not so 1 
 
 Wangel. Not past and gone? 
 
 Ellida. No Wangel. It is not gone ! And I fear 
 that it never will be. Not in this life. 
 
 Wangel [coldly). Do you mean to say that in your 
 heart of hearts you never can cease to think of this 
 stranger? 
 
 Ellida. Ihaveceased.to think of him. But suddenly 
 I felt as though he had come back again. 
 
 Wangel. How long ago was that? 
 
 Ellida. I first felt it about three years since, or 
 rather more. It was when I was expecting my baby. 
 
 Wangel. Oh, at that time ! Ah, Ellida, I am begin- 
 ning to bee my way in several things. 
 
 Ellida. You are on the wrong track. The thing 
 which came upon me — I believe that never in this 
 world can it be explained. 
 
 Wangel {looking at her distressfully). To think — that 
 for three wJiole years you have lived loving another 
 man. Another man. Not me, but another. 
 
 Ellida. Ah, you are wrong, quite wrong. I love no 
 man but you. 
 
 Wangel {gloomily). Then why all this time have 
 you not chosen to live with me as a wife should. 
 
 Ellida. On account of that horror — about that 
 stranger. 
 
 Wangle. A horror ? 
 
 Eluda. Aye, a horror so dreadful — such as the sea 
 alone can have. For I must tell you, Wangel 
 
52 THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 
 
 The young peaple from the town pass back from the left, 
 bowing and going off to the right. With them come 
 Aenholm, Bolette, Hilda and Ltngstkand. 
 
 BoLETTE {as she goes past). Well, you are still 
 lingering up here. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, it is so cool and pleasant at this height. 
 
 Abnholm. We for our part are going down to the 
 dance. 
 
 Wangel. That is right, that is right. We shall 
 soon come down too. 
 
 Hilda. Au revoir. 
 
 Ellida. Mr. Lyngstrand — oh, wait a minute. 
 
 Lynostband stays. Aenholm, Bolette and Hilda go 
 off, right. 
 
 Ellida {to Lyngstrand). Are you going to dance, too? 
 
 Lyngstrand. No, Mrs. Wangel, I believe I dare not. 
 
 Ellida. Well, it is best to be prudent. That attack 
 on your chest — you have never quite got over it. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Never quite; no. 
 
 Ellida {hesitating a little). How long is it since you 
 made that voyage ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. When I was shipwrecked? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, the voyage of which you were telling 
 me this morning. 
 
 Lyngstrand. It must be about — wait; yes,' it must 
 be at least three years. 
 
 Ellida. Ah ! three years. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Or rather more. We sailed from Amer- 
 ica in February; we were shipwrecked in March. We 
 were caught in the equinoctial storms. 
 
 Ellida {looks at Wangel). It was at that lime of year ? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 53 
 
 Wangel. But, my dear EUida 
 
 Ellida. Well, do not let us detain you, Mr. Lyng- 
 strand. Pray go — only do not dance. 
 
 Lyngsteand. No, only look on. {He goes off to the right. ) 
 
 Wangel. Dear Ellida, what made you ask about his 
 voyage ? 
 
 Ellida. Johnston was on the same ship. Of that I 
 am certain. 
 
 Wangel. From what do you infer that ? 
 
 Ellida {without answering). It was while he was on 
 board that he came to know that I had married 
 another man, during his absence. And so — it was in 
 that same hour that it fell upon me. 
 
 Wangel. This horror ? 
 
 Ellida. Suddenly I see him standing before me as 
 if he were alive — or rather,, a little on one side of me. 
 He never looks at me ; he only is there. 
 
 Wangel. And what does he look like? 
 
 Ellida. Just as I last saw him. 
 
 Wangel. Ten years ago ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; out on Bratthammer. What I see 
 most clearly is his breast-pin, with a large blue-tinted 
 pearl; that pearl is like a dead fish's eye and seems to 
 stare at me. 
 
 Wangel. Good heavens! you are more ill than I 
 thought — more ill than you yourself are aware of, 
 Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, yes; help me, save me if you can, for I 
 feel that it is closing in on me more and more. 
 
 Wangel. And you have been going about in this state 
 for more than three years ; have carried this secret 
 misery about with you and never confessed it to me ? 
 
64 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. I could not. Not till now, when I was com- 
 pelled to it, for yoar sake; for if I had told you all, I 
 must also have told you the unspeakable 
 
 Wangel. The unspeakable ? 
 
 Ellida. No, no; do not ask me. Only one thing and 
 then nothing more. Wangel, how can you explain 
 it — the mysterious fact that the child's eyes 
 
 "Wangel. My own dear Ellida, I assure you that it 
 was pure imagination on your part. The child had 
 , eyes exactly like those of any other child. 
 
 Ellida. No; it had not. You could not see it, but 
 the child's eyes changed in color with the sea. If the 
 fiords lay still in the sunshine, his eyes looked like 
 them, and so in stormy weather. Oh, I saw it, though 
 you saw it not. 
 
 Wangel {giving in to her). Well — perhaps so. But 
 even if it were. What then ? 
 
 Ellida {in a low voice to him). I had seen such eyes 
 before. 
 
 Wangel. What? And where? 
 
 Ellida. Out on Bratthammer, ten years ago. 
 
 Wangel {starting back). What do you mean? 
 
 Ellida {whispers trembling). The child had that man's 
 eyes. 
 
 Wangel {involuntarily .shrieks). Ellida ! 
 
 Ellida {throwing up her hands in despair and clawing 
 them over her head). Now do you understand why I 
 never again will — or ought to live with you as your 
 wife ? {She turns quickly away and flies down the hill to 
 the right.) 
 
 Wangel {hurries after her shouting). Ellida, Ellida, 
 my poor unhappy Ellida ! 
 
ACT ni. 
 
 lA remote part of Dr. Wangel's garden. It. is damp and 
 marshy, and shaded by large old trees. To the right is 
 the hank of a weedy pond. A low railing divides the 
 garden frorti afoot-way and the fiord. In the distance 
 cliffs SfiiUiills beyond the fiord. It is late in the after- 
 noon, almost dusk.] 
 
 [BoLETTE is silling on a atone bench to the left; books and 
 a work-basket are lying on the bench; Hilda and 
 Lyngstrand, wUh fish-baskets, are walking on the bank 
 of the pond.] 
 
 Hilda {signing to LYNasTRAND). Stand still. I see a 
 big one. 
 
 Lyngstband {looking in). Where is he ? 
 
 Hilda {pointing). Caa' not you see ? Down there. 
 And look there. Hang fae if there is not another! {she 
 looks out between the trees). What a bore! Here he 
 comes to stop our fun. 
 
 BoLETTE {looking up). Who comes ? 
 
 Hilda. Tour professor, old girl. 
 
 BoLETTE. Mine? 
 
 Hilda. Well, heaven knows he never was mine. 
 
 Professor Abnholm conies from among the trees on the 
 right. 
 
 Ajinholm. Are there any fish left in the pond ? 
 
 Hilda. Yes, some very old carp. 
 
 Arnholm. What, are the old carp^alive still? 
 
56 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Hilda. Yes; they are tough customors. But we 
 mean to see if we can not do something with them. 
 
 Aenholm. You should rather try your skill out on 
 the fiord. 
 
 Lyngstrand. No; the pond is more mysterious, as I 
 may say. 
 
 Hilda. Yes; here it is more exciting. Have you 
 been in the sea ? 
 
 Arnholm. Just now. I have come straight from the 
 bath-house. 
 
 Hilda. Then you bathed in the swimming bath ? 
 
 Arnholm. Yes; I am no great swimmer. 
 
 Hilda. Can you swim on your back ? 
 
 Arnholm. No. 
 
 Hilda. I can. {To Ltnsstrand.) Let us try over 
 there on the other side. ( They go along the bank to the 
 right.) 
 
 Abnholm {going up to Bolette). Sitting here alone, 
 Bolette ? 
 
 .Bolette. Oh, yes; I generally do. 
 
 Arnholm. Is not your mother down in the garden ? 
 
 Bolette. No. She is no doubt gone for a walk with 
 father. 
 
 Arnholm. How is she this afternoon ? 
 
 Bolette. I do not exactly know. I forgot to 
 inquire. 
 
 Arnholm. What are the books you have there ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, one is something about botany, and 
 the other a description of the earth. 
 
 Arnholm. Do you like such reading ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, when I can find time for it. But first 
 and foremost I have to attend to the housekeeping. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 57 
 
 Abnholm. Does not your mother — your stepmother, 
 help you in that? 
 
 BoLETTE. No, it is my care. I had to manage it for 
 two years — while father was alone; and then it went 
 on just the same. 
 
 Abnholm. But you stUl have a great love for reading. 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, I read such useful books as I can 
 get hold of. I should like to know a little about the 
 world, for here we live so completely out of all that is 
 going on — almost, that is to say. 
 
 Aknholm. My dear Bolette, do not say that. 
 
 BouETTE. But it is so. ^It seems to me we live hardly 
 differently from the carp in the pond there. The 
 fiord is so close at hand, and the great free fish swim 
 in and out of it, but the poor tame pond-fish know 
 nothing of it at all. "y 
 
 Arnholm. I do not believe they would be any better 
 off if they were to slip but. 
 
 Bolette. Oh, that I should fancy would not matter. 
 
 Aenholm. And indeed, you can not say that you live 
 so utterly out of the world here. Not during the 
 summer at any rate. This is just now a sort of ren- 
 dezvous of the fashionable world, almost a center — at 
 any rate for a short while. 
 
 Bolette {smiling). Oh, yes. Tou yourself, who are 
 only here for a short whUe, may find it easy enough 
 to make fun of us. 
 
 Abnholm. To make fun of you ! What makes you 
 say that? 
 
 Bolette. Why, all that about a rendezvous and center 
 of fashion is something you heard the towns-people 
 say. They often say sucb things. 
 
58 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Aknholm. Yes, to be frank, I have observed that. 
 
 BoLETTE. But there is not really a word of truth in 
 it; not for us who always live here. What good does 
 it do us that the great, strange world should come 
 through the place on its way to stare at the midnight 
 sun ? We have nothing to do with it. We never go 
 to see any midnight sun. Oh, no; we must live on in 
 our pond, as the carp do in their^. 
 
 Aknholm {sitting down by her). Tell me, dear Bolette, 
 is it so much some vague this or that which you long 
 for, as some one particular thing ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, very likely. 
 
 Arnholm. And what, then, is this one particular 
 thing ? What is it that you long for ? 
 
 Bolette. I long most to get away. 
 
 Aenholm. That first and foremost ? 
 
 Bolette. And, next, to be able to learn more. Above 
 all things to know something thoroughly. 
 
 Arnholm. At the time when I was teaching you, 
 your father often said you should have timo for study. 
 
 Bolette. Yes — poor father! He says a great many 
 things. But when it comes to the point — there is no 
 real determination in father. 
 
 Arnholm. No, more's the pity; you are right in that; 
 there is not. But have you at any time talked the 
 matter over with him, seriously and earnestly ? 
 
 Bolette. No, I never did, I confess. 
 
 Abnholm. But you know you really ought to do so; 
 before it is too late, Bolette. Why do you not ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, perhaps because there is no real deter- 
 mination in me either, I believe. In that I certainly 
 take after my father. • 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 59 
 
 Abnholm. H'm — unless you are doing yourself an 
 injustice. 
 
 BoLETTE. No, unfortunately I am not. And father 
 has so little time for thinking of me and my future ; 
 and little care for it either. He puts such matters 
 aside whenever he can. He is so taken up with 
 EUida 
 
 Aknholm. With whom — what ? 
 
 BoLETTE. I mean that he and my step-mother {she 
 interrupts herself). My father and she live so entirely 
 for each other, as you can imagine 
 
 Abnholm. Well then, it would be all the better if 
 you were to go away from the place. 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes; but I do not fancy I have any right 
 to do so — to leave my father. 
 
 Arnholm. But, dear Bolette, you will be obliged to 
 part from him some day. Therefore, as it seems to me, 
 the sooner the better. 
 
 Bolette. Perhaps there is nothing else to be done. 
 I must think of myself too, and try to put myself in a 
 better position. After father's death I should have no 
 one I could cling to. But my poor father — I should 
 dread to leave him. 
 
 Aknholm. Dread it ? 
 
 Bolette. Tes; for his sake. 
 
 Abnholm. But bless me, is not your stepmother 
 there ? She will remain with him. 
 
 Bolette. Yes, that is true. But she is not clever in 
 in ^11 the things which my mother could do so well 
 There are so many things which she does not even 
 gee — or perhaps does not want to see — or will not be 
 troubled about. I do not know which to ascribe it to. 
 
60 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Aenholm. H'm — I think I understand what you 
 mean. 
 
 BoLETTB. And my poor father — he is weak in many 
 points. You have noticed it yourself, I dare say. He 
 has not practice enough to fill up all his time, and she 
 is so utterly incapable of being his mainstay — for 
 that, however, he is, no doubt, somewhat to blame. 
 
 Aenholm. Why do you think that ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Father always likes to see bright faces 
 about him. There should be sunshine and content- 
 ment in the house, he says; and so I fancy he often 
 lets her doctor herself in a way which is not good for 
 her in the end. 
 
 Aenholm. Do you really think so ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Tes, I can not help thinking so. She is 
 often so very strange. But is it not monstrous that I 
 should be obliged to remain here at home ? It is not 
 of any real use to my father, and I have some duties 
 towards myself, it seems to me. 
 
 Aenholm. I tell you what, dear Bolette, we must 
 discuss this matter more fully. 
 
 Bolette. Oh, that will be of no great use. I suspect 
 that I was born to live here, like the carp in the pond. 
 
 Aenholm. Certainly not. It depends entirely on 
 yourself. 
 
 Bolette {eagerly). Do you say so ? 
 
 Aenholm. Tes, believe me. It rests entirely in your 
 own hands. 
 
 Bolette. Oh, would it were true ! Perhaps y.ou 
 would put in a good word for me to father. 
 
 Aenholm. That too. But first I must say a few 
 frank and unreserved words to* you yourself, dear 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 61 
 
 Bolette. {Glancing to the left.) Hush! make no sign; 
 •we will return to the subject presently. 
 
 FiT.T.TD A comes from the left. She wears no hat, hut only 
 a large handkerchief thrown over her head and 
 shoulders. 
 
 Ellida {vnlh restless vehemence). Here it is pleasant — 
 ielightful. 
 
 Aenholm (rising). Have you been out for a walk? 
 
 Ellida. Yes; a long, long, beautiful walk with 
 Wangel, and now we are going for a saU. 
 
 Bolette. Will you sit down ? 
 
 EUiEDA. No thanks; I. do not want to sit. 
 
 Bolette (making room on the bench). Here is a nice 
 place. 
 
 Ellida (walking about). No, no, no; I will not sit — 
 not sit. 
 
 Abnholm. Your walk has certainly done you good; 
 you look quite revived. * 
 
 Ellida. Oh, I am wonderfully well. I feel so 
 unspeakably happy, so safe — so safe. (Looking out 
 to the left.) What is that large steam-packet coming in ? 
 
 Bolette (rises and looks out). It must be the great 
 English steamer. 
 
 Abnholm. It is lying too by the buoy. Does it 
 usually remain there ? 
 
 Bolette. Only for half an hour; then it goes further 
 up the fiord. 
 
 Ellida. And then down again, to-morrow; out to 
 the great open sea. Away over the wide ocean. 
 Think what it would be to go, too. If one could— if 
 only one could ! 
 
62 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Aenholm. Have you never made a long sea voyage, 
 Mrs. Wangel ? 
 
 Ellida. Never, never; only short excursions here in 
 the fiord. 
 
 BoLETTE (with a sigh). No; we must make the best of 
 the dry land. 
 
 Aenholm. Well, that, at any rate, is our home. 
 
 Ellida. No; I do not think that it is. 
 
 Aenholm. Not that the dry land is our home ? 
 
 Ellida. No; I do not believe it. I believe that, sup- 
 posing men had from the first accustomed themselves 
 to live on the sea — ^in the sea, even, who knows — we 
 should be very much more perfect than we are, better 
 and happier. 
 
 Aenholm. Do you really think so ? 
 
 Ellida. Tes, and I should like to know if it would 
 not be so ? I have talked it over with Wangel many 
 times. 
 
 Aenholm. Well — and he 
 
 Ellida. He thinks it may perhaps be true. 
 
 Aenholm (m jest). Well, be it so. Things are as they 
 are. But we once for all started on the wrong track, 
 and are land-creatures and not sea-creatures. Under 
 all the circumstances it is certainly too late now to set 
 it right. 
 
 Ellida. Yes; that is a melancholy truth. But I 
 believe that mankind have some suspicions of the fstct, 
 and go about bearing a secret pain and grief. Take 
 my word for it, it is the deep-seated cause of man's 
 dejection. Yes, you may take my word for it. 
 
 Arnholm. But, dear Mrs. Wangel, it has never struck 
 me that the human race are so dejected after all. I 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 63 
 
 fancy, on the contrary, that most of us look on life as 
 pleasant and easy — with great, silent, unconscious 
 
 ]oy- 
 
 TiT.TJDA. Oh, no. It is not so. That joy is like our 
 joy in the long light of a summer day. It is clouded 
 by our foreknowledge of coming darkness. Just such 
 foreknowledge casts a shadow over human joys, as the 
 clouds cast their shadoiws over the fiord. There it lies 
 shining and blue, and then all at once 
 
 BoLETTE. Tou should not give way to such disma] 
 thoughts. Just now you were so gay and bright 
 
 Ellipa. Yes. I was, I was. Oh ! it is so stupid of 
 me {looking about her uneasily). If only Wangel would 
 come. He promised me so faithfully that he would. 
 But yet he does not come. Oh, dear Professor, would 
 you try to find him for me ? 
 
 Abnholm. With pleasure. 
 
 Ellida. Tou do not understand. When he is not 
 before me I can not always remember what he is like, 
 «nd I feel as if I had quite lost him. It is so dreadful. 
 Only go. {She walks towards the pool.) 
 
 BoLETTE {to Abnholm). I will go with you. Tou will 
 lot know. 
 
 Abnholh:. Oh, I shall soon find him. 
 
 BoLETTE {aside). No, do. I am uneasy. I fear he 
 may have gone on board the steamship. 
 
 Aenholm. Tou fear it ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Tes. He very often goes to see if he has 
 friends on board. And there is a refreshment room on 
 board 
 
 Ahnholm. Ah ! Well, oome then. 
 
64 THE LADY FROM THE SEJL 
 
 He goes off vnth Bolette to the left. Ellida stands 
 staring into the pond. Now and then she speaks a 
 few incoherent words to herself. Outside the fence, 
 along the footpath, a Steangee is seen coming from 
 the left ; he is in traveling dress ; his heard and hair 
 are bushy and red. He wears a Scotch cap and 
 carries a traveling bag. 
 
 The Steangee walks slowly along by the fence, looking into 
 the garden. On perceiving Ellida he stops, looks at 
 her fixedly, and says in a low tone : 
 
 The Steangee. Good evening, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida (turning round, cries out.) Ah, my darling — 
 are you come at last ? 
 
 Steangee. Yes. At last ! 
 
 Ellida {looking at him in surprise and alarm.) Who 
 are you ? Do you want any one here ? 
 
 Steangee. You may surely suppose so. 
 
 Ellida (amazed). What is this? Why do you 
 address me ? Whom do you seek ? 
 
 Steangee. I seek you alone. 
 
 Ellida (startled). Ah ! (She gazes at him, totters, and 
 utters a half-suppressed scream.) Those eyes, those 
 eyes! 
 
 Steangee. You know me at last, then ? I knew you 
 at once, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. Those eyes I Do not look at me so. I shall 
 scream for help. 
 
 Steangee. Nay, hush; do not be frightened. I shall 
 do you no harm. 
 
 Ellida (covering her eyes with her hands). Do not look 
 at me so, I tell you. 
 
THE LABT FROM THE SEA. 65 
 
 Stbangeb (resting his arms on the fence). I came by 
 the English packet. 
 
 FiT.T.TDA {steals a glance at the Stranger). What do you 
 want of me ? 
 
 Stranger. I promised you I would come back as 
 soon as I could. 
 
 Fj.t.tda. Go away — travel again. Never come here — 
 never more. I vnrote to you that all was at an end 
 between us — everything; and you know it. 
 
 Stranger (unmoved). I would gladly have come 
 sooner, but I could not. Now, at last, I am here. You 
 see me at last, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. What do you want of me ? What do you 
 mean to do ? What have you come here for? 
 
 Stranger. You must know that I have come to 
 fetch you. 
 
 Ellida {starting back in horror). To fetch me I Is 
 that your purpose. 
 
 Stranger. Why, of course. 
 
 Ellida. But you surely must know that I am married. 
 
 Stranger. Yes, I know that. 
 
 Eluda. And yet — and yet — you have come to 
 fetch me? 
 
 Stranger. Yes, I have. 
 
 Ellida {clasps her hands on her head). Oh this is 
 dreadfuL This is horrible — horrible ! 
 
 Stranger. You do not mean to come perhaps ? 
 
 Elmda {distraught). Do not look at me like that. 
 
 Stranger. I ask if you mean to come ? 
 
 Ellida. No, no, no. I will not. Never, never. I 
 vnll not, I say. I neither can, nor vriU. {More 
 quickly.) I could not. 
 5 
 
66 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Stkangee (springs over the fence into the garden). WeH, 
 well, Ellida. Only let me say one thing before I go. 
 
 Ellida. {tries to fly but can not. She stands as if stricken 
 with fear, and totters against a tree-trunk by the pool). Do 
 not touch me ! Do not come near me ! No nearer — 
 do not touch me, I say. 
 
 Stbangek {approaching her cautiously). You need not 
 be so much afraid of me, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {covering her eyes with her hands). Do not look 
 at me so ! 
 
 Stranger. Do not be frightened — do not be afraid. 
 (De. Wangel comes into the garden from the left.) 
 
 Wangel {still among the trees). Well, you have indeed 
 waited for me a long time. 
 
 Ellida {rushing to him and clings to his arm screaming). 
 Oh Wangel, save me — save me if you can. 
 
 Wangel. Ellida, what in God's name 
 
 Ellida. Save me — do you not see him? There he 
 stands. 
 
 Wangel {looks round). That man ? {He goes towards 
 him.) May I ask who are you ? And why you have 
 come into this garden ? 
 
 Steangee. I want to speak to her {points at Ellida). 
 
 Wangel. Indeed! It is you, then {turning to 
 
 Ellida). I heard that a stranger had been inquiring 
 for you. 
 
 Stranger. Yes, that was I. 
 
 Wangel. And what do you want with my wife {to 
 Ellida). Do you know him, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {wringing her hands). Do I know him ? Yes, 
 yes, yes. 
 
 Wangel {sternly). What! 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 67 
 
 Ellida. It is he — he himself — of whom I told 
 
 you 
 
 Wangel. What is that you say? {He turns to the 
 STBANGEa*.) Are you that fellow Johnston, who 
 tor marly 
 
 Stranger. Well — you may call me Johnston, for. 
 anything I care. But that is not my name. 
 
 Wangel. It is not ? 
 
 Stranger. It is no longer my name. 
 
 Wangel. Then, what can you want of my wife? For 
 you know that the light-house officer's daughter has 
 long been married. And the man she married you see 
 before you. 
 
 Stranger. I hare known that these three years and 
 more. 
 
 Ellida {agitated). How did you know that? 
 
 Stranger. I was on the way home to you when an 
 old newspaper fell into my hands. It was printed in 
 these parts and there I saw news of your betrothal. 
 
 Elleda {gazing into vacancy). Of my betrothal — it 
 was that, then 
 
 Stranger. It took me by surprise; for that throwing 
 of the rings — that too was a betrothal, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {clasping her hands over her face). Ah ! 
 
 Wangel. How dare you ? 
 
 Stranger. Had you forgotten that ? 
 
 Ellida {consdoiis of his gaze, exclaims). Do not look 
 at me like that. 
 
 Wangel {confronting him). You are to address your- 
 self to me and not to her. And now, once for all, as 
 you know that, what is your business here? Why 
 have you come to seek out my wife? 
 
68 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Stranger. I had promised Ellida to come back for 
 her as soon as I could. 
 
 Wangel. Ellida — again! 
 
 Stranger. And J]llida had promised me faithfully to 
 wait for me till I should come. 
 
 Wangel. I perceive that you know my wife by her 
 Christian name. Such familiarity is not customary 
 here. 
 
 Stranger. I know that very well; but as she was 
 mine before she was yours 
 
 WAnoel. Yours ! God forbid ! 
 
 Ellida {getting behind Wangel). Oh ! He will never 
 let me go ! 
 
 Wangel. Yours — you say she was yours ? 
 
 Stranger. Has she never told you about certain 
 rings — two rings — mine and Bllida's ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes, she told me. But what then? She 
 put an end to the affair afterwards. You had her 
 letters. You yourself know that. 
 
 Stranger. Both Ellida and I were agreed that the 
 casting of the rings should be as valid and binding as 
 though it were a formal betrothal. 
 
 Ellida. But I will never be yours. Never, never 
 will I have anything more to do with you. Do not 
 look at me so — I will not, I tell you. 
 
 Wangel. You must be a madman to think that you can 
 some here and base your rights on such childish folly. 
 
 Stranger. Very true. Eights, in the sense you give 
 the word, I have none. 
 
 Wangel. What then do you want? You surely do 
 not imagine that you can take her from me by force, 
 ftgTR'Sst her own will J 
 
THE LADY FR OM THE SEA. 69 
 
 Stkangeb. No. "What should I gain by that? If 
 Ellida will come with me, it must be of her own free 
 will 
 
 Ellida {cried out). My own free will ! 
 
 Wangel. Could you dream of such a thing? 
 
 Ellida (to herself). Of my own free will. 
 
 Wangel. You must be out of your mind. Go your 
 way. "We have nothing more to say to each other. 
 
 Stranger {looking at his watch). It will soon be time 
 for me to go on board again. {Se comes nearer.) I 
 have done my duty, Ellida. {Gominq closer still.) I 
 have kept the word I gave you. 
 
 'Ei.u.D A {beseechingly and shrinking from him). Ah! do 
 not touch me ! 
 
 Stranger. Tou have till to-morrow night to think of it. 
 
 Wangel. There is nothing for her to think about. 
 Now go! Be off! 
 
 Stranger {still to Ellida). I am going up the fiord 
 with the ship. To-morrow night I will come again; 
 I will look for you here; you must wait for me in the 
 garden; for I should prefer to speak with you alone, 
 you understand. 
 
 Eluda {trembling, in a low voice). Oh, Wangel, you 
 hear that ! 
 
 Wangel. Only be calm; we will find means of pre- 
 venting this visit. 
 
 Stranger. Till then, adieu, Ellida. Till to-morrow 
 night. 
 
 Ellida {beseechingly). Oh, no, no. Do not come 
 to-morrow night. Never, never come again I 
 
 Stranger. And if you should have made up your 
 mind to come with me over the sea 
 
70 THE LADF FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Ah ! do not look at me so ! 
 
 SiRANflER. I only mean that if so, you must be ready 
 to start 
 
 Wangei,. Go indoors, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. I can not. — oh, help me, saTe me, Wangei 1 
 
 Stranger. For you must reflect that, if you do not 
 set out with me to-morrow, it is an end of every- 
 thing. 
 
 Ellida {looking at him timidly). An end of everything. 
 Forever ? 
 
 Stranger. Nothing can ever be done to alter it. I 
 shall never come to these shores again. You will 
 never see me more nor hear of me either. I shall be 
 as one dead and gone from you forever. 
 
 Ellida {breathing hard). Oh! 
 
 Stranger. So think well of what you do. Good 
 night. {He springs over the fence and stands there to say) 
 Yes, Ellida. Be ready to set out to-morrow night — I 
 shall come to fetch you. {Se slowly and calmly goes 
 down the path to the right.) 
 
 Ellida {gazes after him a minute or two). Of my own 
 free will, did he say? Only think — he said I should 
 go with him of my own free will. 
 
 Wanqel. Only be reasonable. Now he is gone, and 
 you shall never see him again. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, how can you say that ? He is coming 
 again to-morrow night. 
 
 Wangel. Let him come. You, at any rate, he shall 
 not see. 
 
 Ellida {shaking her head). Oh, Wangei, never think 
 that you can prevent him. 
 
 Wanqel. My dear, trust me for that. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 71 
 
 EiiUDA (nuising, without hearing him). When he has 
 been here — to-morrow night — and when he is gone 
 across the sea in the steamship 
 
 Wangel. Well, what then ? 
 
 Eluda. I should like to know whether he never — 
 really never will come again ? 
 
 Wangel. Never, dear Ellida, on that point you may 
 be quite easy. What further business could he have 
 here ? Now that he has heard from your own lips 
 that you positively will have nothing to say to 
 him, that is an end to the matter. 
 
 Ellida {to herself). To-morrow, then, or never. 
 
 Wangel. Or, if he should venture to come here 
 again 
 
 Ellida (eagerly). What then ? 
 
 Wangel. Then it stands in our power to make him 
 harmless. 
 
 Ellida. I do not believe it. 
 
 Wangel. It stands in our power, I tell you. If you 
 can have no peace from him by any other means, he 
 shall be brought to justice for murdering the captain. 
 
 Ellida {vehemently). No, no, no; never that. We 
 know nothing of the murder — nothing whatever. 
 
 Wangel. Do we not; did he not himself confess it to 
 you? 
 
 Ellida. No, nothing about it; and if you say any- 
 thing of the kind I shall deny it. Put him in prison I 
 Never ! He belongs to the open sea; that is his place. 
 
 Wangel {looting at her and speaking slowly). Ah, 
 EUida, Ellida ! 
 
 Ellida {clinging to him passionately). Ah, you are 
 good and faithful; save me from that man. 
 
72 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wangel {quietly releasing himself). Come! Come 
 with me. 
 
 Ltngstband and Hilda, loith fishing rods, come from the 
 right towards the pond. 
 
 Lyngstband {going eagerly up to Ellida). Mrs. Wan- 
 gel, you must hear the most wonderful thing ! 
 
 Wangel. What is that? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Only think — we have seen the Amerioan. 
 
 Wamgel. The American ? 
 
 Hilda. Yes; and I saw him too. 
 
 Lyngstrand. He went past the garden, and on board 
 the big English steamer. 
 
 Wangel. When and where did you know the man 9 
 
 Lyngsteand. I once went to sea with him. I felt so 
 sure he had been drowned, and I met him again here, 
 safe and sound. 
 
 Wanq«l. Do you know anything more about him ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. No; but he is no doubt come to be 
 revenged on his faithless maid. 
 
 Wangel. What is that you say ? 
 
 Hilda. Mr. Lyngstrand means to use him in his 
 great work of art. 
 
 Wangel. I do not understand a word of all this 
 
 Ellida. I will tell you all presently. 
 
 Arnholm and Bolette come up the path outside the garden, 
 from the left. 
 
 Bolette (to those in the garden). Come and see. The 
 big English steamer is going up the fiord {the steamship 
 glides across in the distance). 
 
 Lyngstrand (to Hilda, by the fence). He will carry her 
 off to-night, no doubt. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 73 
 
 Hilda (nodding). The faithless girl — no doubt. 
 
 Ltngstrand. At about midnight, do you think? 
 
 Hilda. It seems to me most exciting. 
 
 Ellida {watching the vessel). So to-morrow 
 
 Wangel. And never again. 
 
 Ellida {in a Jaw tone and trembling). Oh Wangel, save 
 me from myself. 
 
 Wakgel {looking at her anxiously). Ellida, I can not 
 but think that there is something behind all this. 
 
 Ellida. Behind it there is the attraction 
 
 Wangel. The attraction ? 
 
 Eluda. The man draws me to him, as the sea does. 
 {She goes slowly, lost in thought, through the garden to the. 
 left. Wangel keeping dose to her, very uneasy, and 
 wOtchmg her narrowly.) 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 [Dr. Wangel's room opening on the garden. Doors to the 
 right and left; in the back-ground, between two windows, 
 there is a glass door open on to the veranda and the 
 garden beyond. In front, to the left, a table and a sofa; 
 to the right a pianoforte, and, farther back a clump of 
 plants. In the middle a round table with chairs round 
 it. A rose-bush in blossom stands on the table and 
 three plants in pots. It is before noon. To the left sits 
 BoLETTE on the sofa by the table, at Work on some 
 embroidery. Ltngstrand on a chair at the other side 
 of the table. Baxlested is seen in the garden, painting. 
 Hilda stands by him looking at him.] 
 
 Ltngsteakd {with his arms on the table, after siting in 
 silence for some minutes watching Bolette at work). It 
 must be very difficult to work such a pattern, as that, 
 Miss Wangel. 
 
 Bolette. Oh, no. Not so very difficult. You need 
 only count accurately. 
 
 LvNGSTEAND. Count ? Do you have to count ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, the stitches, look here. 
 
 Lyngstrand. To be sure. Only think — so it is almost 
 an art. Can you draw, too ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, yes, when I have something to copy. 
 
 Lyngsteand. Not otherwise ? 
 
 Bolette. No, not otherwise. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 75 
 
 Ltogsteand. That is not really art. 
 
 BoLETTE. No, it is chiefly handicraft. 
 
 Lttngsteand. But, I think, you might perhaps learn 
 an art. 
 
 BoLETTE. Though I have so little talent; do you 
 think so? 
 
 Ltogstramd. Certainly; if you were constantly in 
 the society of a true artist 
 
 BoLETTE. Do you think I might learn from him ? 
 
 Ltngsteand. Not learn in the ordinary way. But I 
 think it would grow in you little by little. By a sort 
 of miracle. Miss Wangel. 
 
 BoLETTE. That would indeed be a miracle. 
 
 Ltngstband {after a pause). Have you ever thought 
 seriously — I mean have you ever thought deeply and 
 earnestly of marriage, Miss Wangel. 
 
 BoLETTE {glancing up at him). No. 
 
 Lyngsteand. I have. 
 
 BoLETTE. Indeed — have you? 
 
 Lyngstband. Yes, indeed. I think very often of such 
 things. Chiefly of marriage; and I have read about 
 it in various books. ^ It seems to me that marriage 
 must be regarded very much as a miracle^ The wife 
 becomes gradually transformed more and more till 
 she resembles her husband. 
 
 BoLETTE. In their interests, you mean ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. Tes, quite so. 
 
 BoLETTE. Well, but his gifts, his talents or acquired 
 skill 
 
 LiNGSTBAND. To be sure; I should like to know 
 whether in those too 
 
 BoLETTE. Then perhaps you think that what a man 
 
76 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 has read — or thought — can, as it were, pass into 
 his wife ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. That, too — yes ; little by little. As by 
 a miracle. But I see clearly enough that this can 
 only happen in a marriage which is faithful and 
 loving and really happy. 
 
 BoLETTE. Has it never occurred to you that a man 
 may be influenced in the same way by his wife; grow 
 like her, I mean ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. A man ? No, that I never thought of. 
 
 BoLETTE. But why not one as much as the other ? 
 
 Ltngsteand. Because a man has his calling to live 
 for. And that is what makes a man firm and strong, 
 Miss Wangel. He has a vocation in life. 
 
 BoLETTE. Has every man a vocation ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Oh, no. I was thinking especially of 
 artists. 
 
 BoLETTE. Do you think that it is right in an artist to 
 get married ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes, it seems so to me. When he can 
 find some one whom he truly, loves 
 
 BoLETTB. Even then, I think, he had better live for 
 his art alone. 
 
 Lyngstrand. That he ought. But he can do so just 
 as well even if he is married. 
 
 BoLETTE. Does she think so ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. She? Who? 
 
 BoLETTE. She whom he may marry. What is she to 
 live for? 
 
 Lyngstrand. She too must live for his art. I fancy 
 that a woman might feel herself thoroughly happy 
 under such conditions. 
 
THE LADY FROM TEE SEA. 77 
 
 BoLETTE. H'm — I am not sure. 
 
 Lysgstkand. Indeed, Miss Wangel, you may take my 
 word for it. It is not merely the honor and distinction 
 which she gets on his account, for that, I suppose, is 
 the last thing to be thought of. But that she can help 
 him in his work, that she can lighten his labors by 
 being near him, and caring for him, and making life 
 
 easy and pleasant to him It seems to me that 
 
 this might make a woman very happy. 
 
 BoLETTE. Ah ! You have no idea yourself how selfish 
 you are. 
 
 LYSGtsTRAND. I selfish ? Well, good heavens 1 But 
 if you only knew me a little better than you do. 
 (Leaning over closer to her.) Miss Wangel, when I am 
 gone — and I must go very soon 
 
 BoLETTE {very sympathetically). Do not think of any- 
 thing so melancholy. 
 
 Lyngstbaud. It doe,s not strike me as so very 
 melancholy 
 
 BoLETTE. Why, what do you mean ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. In about a month I shall be leaving this, 
 and then going to the south of Europe. 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, yes, to be sure — of course. 
 
 Lysgsteand. And you will sometimes think of me? 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, I shall indeed. 
 
 Lyngstkand {vMh pleasure). You promise me you 
 will. 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, that I promise. 
 
 Lyngstbaot). On your solemn word of honor ? 
 
 BoLETTE. On my solemn word of honor. {More 
 lightly.) But what does it matter after all! It can 
 lead to nothing in the world. 
 
78 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Lyngsteand. How can you say that ? To me it will 
 be the joy of my life to know that you, here at home, 
 are thinking of me. 
 
 BoLETTB. Well, but what then ? 
 
 Lyngstband. What then — I do not exactly know. 
 
 BoLETTE. Nor I neither. There is so much in the 
 way; everything is in the way, I think. 
 
 Lyn(jsteand. Oh, another miracle might happen. A 
 happy turn of fortune — or something of the kind. 
 For I believe that fortune is on my side. 
 
 BoLETTE {eagerly). Yes, indeed. Cling to that 
 belief. 
 
 Lyngsteand. I do believe it firmly. And so, some 
 years hence, when I come home again a famous sculp- 
 tor, well-to-do, and in good health 
 
 BoLETTE. To be sure. We will hope for that. 
 
 Lyngsteand. You may hope for it confidently, if you 
 only think of me constantly and faithfully while I am 
 away in the south. And I have your word that you 
 will. 
 
 BoLETTB. You have {shaking her head). But it will 
 come to nothing, nevertheless. 
 
 Lyngsteand. Still, Miss Wangel, it will at least lead 
 to this : that I shall work with a lighter heart, and get 
 on all the faster in my art. 
 
 BoLETTE. Do you really think so ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. Yes, I feel it deeply. And it seems to 
 me that it must be an encouragement to you, too — 
 here in this retired spot — to know in your heart that 
 you are helping me to work 
 
 BoLETTE {looking at him). But you — on your part? 
 
 Lyngsteand. I? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 79 
 
 BoLETTB {looking off into the garden). Hush ! Spe k 
 of something else. Here comes the professor. 
 
 Arnholm is seen in the garden to the left. He is talking 
 with Ballested and Hilda. 
 
 Lyngstband. Are you much attached to your old 
 tutor, Miss Wangel ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Much attached to him ? 
 
 Lyngstkand. Yes — are you fond of him, I mean ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, yes, very; for he is a very good friend 
 and adviser, and he is always ready to be helpful when 
 he can. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Is it not strange that he should never 
 have married ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Does it strike you as strange? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes, for he's well-to-do, they say. 
 
 BoLETTE. He must be. Still, I can imagine that he 
 may not have found it easy to meet with anyone who 
 would marry him. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Why so ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, he has been the teacher of almost all 
 the young girls he has ever known. That he says 
 himself. 
 
 Lyngstrand. But what has that to do with it? 
 
 BoLETTE. Why, good gracious, a man does not marry 
 a girl whose tutor he has been. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Do you think a young girl could never 
 love her tutor ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Not after she is grown up. 
 
 Lyngstrand. No ! Do you mean that ? 
 
 BoLETTE (in a warning tone). Hush, take care. 
 
80 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ballested haft meanwhile collected his things and carries 
 them out through the garden to the right. Hilda helps 
 him. Aenholm comes up to the veranda and into the 
 room. 
 
 Arnholm. Grood morning, dear Bolette. Good laorn- 
 
 ing Mr. — Mr. {He looks annoyed and bows coldly to 
 
 Lyngsteand. Lyngstrand rises and bows.) 
 
 Bolette (goes to meet Arsholm). Good morning, Mr. 
 Professor. 
 
 Arnholm. How are you this morning? 
 
 BoLEiTE. Thank you, very well. 
 
 Arnholm. Is your mother gone to her bath to-day ? 
 
 Bolette. No, she is up in her room. 
 
 Arnholm. Not quite well ? 
 
 Bolette. I do not know. She has locked herself in. 
 
 Arnholm. Has she indeed ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Mrs. Wangel was dreadfully upset by 
 the American yesterday. 
 
 Arnholm. What do you know about it? 
 
 Lyngstrand. I told Mrs. Wangel that I had seen him 
 alive and in the flesh behind the garden. 
 
 Arnholm. Oh, that was it? 
 
 Bolette (to Arnholm). You and papa stayed out very 
 late last night. 
 
 Arnholm. Yes, somewhat late. We were talking over 
 serious business. 
 
 Bolette. Did you say anything to him about me and 
 my affairs? 
 
 Arnholm. No, dear Bolette. I had not the chance. 
 He was so much absorbed by another matter. 
 
 Bolette, (sig'/iing'). Ah, yes! He always is. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 81 
 
 Abnholm {viith great sympathy). But by and by we 
 will discuss the subject. Where is your father now? 
 Not at home, I suppose ? 
 
 BoLETTE. No. He must be down at the office. I will 
 go and fetch him. 
 
 Abnholm. No, thanks; do not do thai I would 
 rather go down there to him. 
 
 BoLETTE {listening out to the left). Wait a minute, 
 professor. I think that is father's step on the stairs. 
 Yes ~ He has no doubt been to see her. 
 
 Dr. Wasgel cornea in through the door on the l^. 
 
 Wahgel {holding out his hand to Abkholm). Well, my 
 dear friend, so here you are already. It is kind of 
 you to have come so early, for I want some further 
 talk with you. 
 
 BoLETTE (to Lyngstrasd). Shall we go to Hilda in 
 the garden ? 
 
 LrNGSTRAND. Tes, with great pleasure. {He and 
 BoLETTE go into the garden, and off among the trees in the 
 background.) 
 
 Aehholm {as he follows them with his eyes, turn to 
 Wangel). Do you know anything about that young 
 man? 
 
 Wangel. No; nothing whatever. 
 
 Abnholm. But do you think it right that he should 
 go about so much with your girls ? 
 
 Waugel.Docs he — so much? I really had not 
 noticed it. 
 
 Abnholm. And yet it strikes me that you ought to 
 have an eye to such things. ^ 
 6 
 
82 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wangel. Yes; there you are right. But, good 
 heavens ! what is a poor man to do ? Girls are now so 
 well accustomed to take care of themselves. They 
 will not be spoken to, either by me or Ellida. 
 
 Aenholm. Not even by her ? 
 
 "Wangel. No; besides, I can not expect her to con- 
 cern herself with such things. She is not fit for it. 
 {Changing abruptly.) But this is not what I want to 
 talk about with you. Tell me, have you thought any 
 further of that matter — the matter I mentioned to 
 you. 
 
 Arnholm. I have thought of nothing else since we 
 parted last night. 
 
 Wangel. And what do you think is to be done ? 
 
 Aenholm. Dear doctor, it seems to me that you, as a 
 medical man, must know better than I. 
 
 Wakgel. Oh, if you only knew how difficult it is for 
 a doctor to decide rightly for a sick person whom he 
 so dearly loves ! And this, too, is no ordinary case. 
 Here no ordinary physician can be of any use, nor any 
 ordinary remedies. 
 
 Aenholm. How is she to-day ? 
 
 Wangel. I was but just up with her, and she seemed 
 to me quite calm. But beneath all her moods there 
 lies something hidden which I find it impossible to lay 
 my finger on. And then she is so variable, so uncer- 
 tain; she changes so unexpectedly. 
 
 Aenholm. The result, no doubt, of her disordered 
 state of mind. 
 
 Wangel. Not that alone. It lies in the depths of her 
 nature. <I Ellida is a child of the sea; that is the real 
 truth. > 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 83 
 
 Aknholm. What precisely do you mean by that, dear 
 sir? 
 
 Wangel. Have you never observed that the people 
 who live by the open sea are, as it were, a folk by 
 themselves ? Almost as though they lived the life of 
 the sea. There is a surge and an ebb and flow, too, 
 both in their thoughts and in their emotions, and so 
 they can never be transplanted. Ah ! I should have 
 thought of that sooner. It was really sinning against 
 Ellida to bring her away from the open shore and set 
 her down here. 
 
 Abnholm. Is that the conclusion you have come to ? 
 
 "Wangel. Yes, more and more. But I ought to have 
 told myself this beforehand. I knew it in my heart 
 from the first, but I would not allow it to find utter- 
 ances, even to myself. I loved her so well, you see! 
 And I thought first and foremost of myself. I was so 
 inconceivably selfish then. 
 
 Aenholm. Well, under such circumstances every man 
 is, to be sure, a little selfish. But, otherwise, it is a 
 fault I have never remarked in you, my dear Wangel. 
 
 Wangel {restlessly waiking to and fro). Oh, yes; and 
 afterwards again I was selfish. I am so much, so very 
 much older than she. I ought to have been like a 
 father to her — and a guide. I ought to have done my 
 best to develop and enlighten her mental life. But, 
 alas, I never did anything of the kind; I have no zeal 
 for that sort of thing, you see. I would rather have 
 kept her just what she was. But then she grew worse 
 and worse, and I went on, not knowing what was to be 
 done. {In a lower lone.) And that was why, in my 
 great trouble, I wrote to you to come to us. 
 
84 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Abnholm {looks at him in amazement). What! That 
 was the reason why you wrote ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes; but do not let it be known. 
 
 Aknholm. But what in the world, my dear doctor — 
 what did you hope for from me? That I do not 
 understand. 
 
 Waugel. No, that is very natural; for I was on a 
 wrong scent. I thought that Ellida's heart had been 
 given to you long since, that she still secretly clung to 
 you; that, perhaps, it might do her good to see you 
 again and to talk with you of her home and the old 
 days there. 
 
 Arnholm. Then it was your wife that you meant 
 when you wrote that there was " some one " here who 
 looked for me — and, perhaps, was longing to see me. 
 
 Wangel. Yes — who else could it be? 
 
 Arnholm {hastily). To be sure — you are right — but 
 I did not understand. 
 
 Wangel. Very naturally, as I said. But I was on 
 the wrong scent. 
 
 Arnholm. And you blame yourself for selfishness ? 
 
 Wangel. Ah, I had a great sin to expiate. I felt as 
 though I could neglect no means which might possibly 
 relieve her mind a little. 
 
 Arnholm. And how do you account for the power 
 which this stranger exerts over her. 
 
 Wangel. My dear friend — there is a side of that 
 which does not admit of any explanation. 
 
 Arnholm. Which is inexplicable do you mean? In 
 itself inexplicable ? 
 
 Wangel. Inexplicable, at any rate for the present. 
 
 Arnholm. Do you believe in such inexplicable things ? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 85 
 
 Waugel. I neither believe nor reject them. I simply 
 do not know. So I let them be. 
 
 Abnholm. Aye, but tell me one thing. Her astonish- 
 ing and mysterious assertidn, that her child's eyes 
 
 Wangel {vehemently). I do not believe a word of it. 
 I will not believe such a thing. It must be pure 
 imagination on her part and nothing else. 
 
 Arnholm. Did you notice the man's eyes when you 
 saw him last evening ? 
 
 Wang EL. Certainly I did. 
 
 Abnholm. And you detected no resemblance ? 
 
 Was^byl {evasively). Well — good heavens, what can 
 I answer ? It was somewhat dusk when I saw him, 
 and EUida had said so much about the likeness — I 
 hardly know whether I was able to look at him 
 without prejudice. 
 
 Abnholm. No, no. It may be so But the other 
 
 thing — the fact that all this dread and uneasiness 
 came upon her just at the time when this man seems 
 to have set out on his homeward voyage ? 
 
 Wangel. Well, you see that is a thing which she 
 fnay have invented or dreamed a day or two ago. It 
 certainly did not come over her so suddenly — all in a 
 moment — as she now declares. But since she heard 
 from this young Lyngstrand that Johnson — or Free- 
 man — or whatever his name may be — that this man 
 started on his return voyage three years ago, in the 
 month of March, she is evidently convinced that her 
 distress of mind began at the very same time. 
 
 Abnholm. And was it not so ? 
 
 Wangel. Nothing of the sort. Traces and signs of 
 it had been discernible long before. At the same 
 
86 THE LAB F FROM THE SEA. 
 
 time, as it happened, it was in March three years since 
 that she had a somewhat violent attack 
 
 Aknholm. Indeed! 
 
 Wangel. But that can hjn very simply explained by 
 the state — the circumstances — at the time. 
 
 Abnholm. Thus it is symptom against symptom. 
 
 Wangel {clenching his hands). And to be unable to 
 
 help her To kaow of nothing that I can do 
 
 To see no help, no remedy 
 
 Abnholm. If you could only make up your mind to 
 change your place of residence — to move elsewhere. 
 So that she might live under conditions in which she 
 would feel more at home. 
 
 Wangel. My dear fellow, do you suppose that I have 
 not suggested that already ? I proposed to her to go 
 to Skjoldvik. But she refuses. 
 
 Abnholm. Even to do that ? 
 
 Wangel. She does not think it would do her any 
 good. And in that perhaps she is right. 
 
 Abnholm. You think so ? H'm. 
 
 Wangel. Yes. Besides, as I consider the matter, I 
 really do not know how I could possibly manage it. 
 For the girls' sake I do not see how I could carry 
 them off to such an out-of-the-way spot. They must 
 live in a place where there is at any rate some small 
 chance of their being one day provided for. 
 
 Abnholm. Provided for ? Are you thinking of that 
 already ? 
 
 Wangel. God knows, I must think of it. But then, 
 on the other hand, there is my poor sick Ellida — oh ! 
 My dear Arnholm, with one thing and the other, I am 
 really between two fires. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 87 
 
 Abnholm. As regards Bolette, you need be under no 
 anxiety. (Be interrupts himself. ) I wonder where she — 
 where they are gone ? {He goes to the open door and looksout. ) 
 
 Wangel {looking at the piano). Oh, I would' make any 
 sacrifice — for those three. If I knew what to do. 
 
 Ellida comes in from the left. 
 
 Ellida {abruptly to Wangel). Only do not go out this 
 morning. 
 
 Wangel. No; certainly I will not. I will stay at 
 home with you. {He points to Ahnholm, who comes 
 tovxLrds them,.) But wiU you not speak to our friend? 
 
 Ellida {turning round). Oh, is it you, Mr. Araholm ? 
 {Offers him her hand.) Good morning. 
 
 Abnholm. Good morning, Mrs. Wangel. Are you 
 not bathing to-day, as usual ? 
 
 Ellida. No, no, no. I can not think of such a thing 
 to-day. But will you not sit down a mraute ? 
 
 Abnholm. No; thank you very much; not now. {He 
 looks at Wangel.) I promised the girls that I would 
 follow them into the garden. 
 
 EixiDA. God only knows whether you will find them 
 in the garden. I never know where they may be. 
 
 Wangel. Oh yes. They are sure to be down by the 
 pond. 
 
 Aknholm. Well, I shall, no doubt, find some track of 
 them. {He bows and goes out to the right by the veranda.) 
 
 Elijda. What o'clock is it, Wangel ? 
 
 Wangel {looking at his watch). A little past eleven. 
 
 Ellida. A little past — and at eleven or half-past 
 eleven to-night the steamship comes back. Oh, if only 
 that hour were past ! 
 
88 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wanael {going close up to her). Dear EUida, there is 
 one thing I should like to know. 
 
 Ellida. What is that ? 
 
 Wangel. The evening before last, when we were up 
 at the " Belle vue," you said that often during the last 
 three years you had seen him plainly close to you. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, and so I have. Tou may believe me, 
 indeed. 
 
 Wangel. Well, and what did he look like ? 
 
 Ellida. What did he look like ? 
 
 Wangel. I mean, how did you picture him; how did 
 he look when he appeared before you ? 
 
 Ellida. But, my dear Wangel, you yourself have 
 seen what he looks like. 
 
 Wangel. Does he look the same as you had pictured 
 him? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, exactly. 
 
 Wangel. And how was it that you did not recognize 
 him at once ? 
 
 Ellida {startled). Did I not recognize him? 
 
 Wangel. No. You yourself said afterwards that at 
 first you could not think who the strange man was. 
 
 Ellida {much struck). Yes, I really believe you are 
 right. Does not that seem strange to you, Wangel, 
 to think that I did not know him at once ? 
 
 Wangel. It was only by his eyes, you say ? 
 
 Ellida. Ah, yes — those eyes, those eyes ! 
 
 Wangel. Well, up at the Bellevue you told me that 
 he always appeared to you as you had seen him at the 
 time when you parted. Now, that is ten years ago. 
 
 Ellida. Did I tell you that ? 
 
 Wangel. You did. 
 
TSE LADY FROM THE SEA. 89 
 
 Ellida. Then he must have looked much the same 
 at that time as he does now. 
 
 Wangel. No; for you gave quite another description 
 of him the other evening as we were walking home. 
 Ten years ago he had no beard, you said, and he was 
 quite differently dressed. And the breast-pin with the 
 pearl — the man yesterday had nothing of the kind. 
 
 Ellida. No; he had not. 
 
 Wangel {looking at her steadily). Now think a little, 
 my dear Ellida. Or perhaps you can no longer 
 remember how he looked when you stood with him on 
 Bratthammer. 
 
 Ellida (considering and closing her eyes). Not very 
 clearly. No — to-day I can not see him. Is it not very 
 strange ? 
 
 Wangel. Not so very strange after aU. A fresh 
 actuality has been brought before you, and that has 
 cast a shadow over the old one so that you can no 
 longer see it. 
 
 Ellida. Do you "really think so, Wangel? 
 
 Wangel. Tes; and it has cast a shadow over your 
 bewildered brain, too. So far it is well that the reality 
 should have come. 
 
 Ellida. Well? Do you say it'is well? 
 
 Wangel. Yes. It may bring about your recovery. 
 
 Ellida (sitting down on the sofa). Wangel, come and 
 sit here by me. I want to tell you all I think. 
 
 Wangel. Do so, dear Ellida. (He takes a chair on the 
 opposite side of the table.) 
 
 Ellida. It was a great misfortune for both of us — 
 ihat we, of all people, ever should have met. 
 
 Wangel (amazed). What do you say ? 
 
90 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, indeed. It was, and it is easy enough 
 to see why. It could be nothing but a misfortune con- 
 sidering the way in which it came about. 
 
 Wangel. What was the way 
 
 Ellida. Only listen, Wangel. It is of ho avail that 
 we should any longer lie to ourselves — or each other. 
 
 Wangel. Is it a lie ? Do you say so ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, I do; or at any rate we do not confess 
 the truth. And the truth, the plain, honest truth is — 
 in short, that you came and bought me. 
 
 Wangel. Bought you! Bought you? 
 
 Ellida. Oh, I was no better than you. I consented. 
 I was ready to sell myself. 
 
 Wi-TfiaEL {looking at her in distress). Ellida, have you 
 really the heart to say this ? 
 
 Ellida. But there is no other word for it. You could 
 no longer endure the void in your home. You were 
 looking about for a second wife 
 
 Wangel. And for a mother for my children, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida. That also, no doubt — as a secondary matter. 
 Nevertheless — ^you hardly knew whether I could fill 
 the place; you had scarcely seen me, and had spoken 
 to me but seldom. Yoy. took a fancy to me, and so ■ 
 
 Wangel. Oh, call it what you please ! 
 
 Ellida. And I, for my part — I was helpless and 
 unholpen — utterly alone. It was only natural that I 
 should consent when you came and promised to pro- 
 vide for me for life. 
 
 Wangel. I did not think of it as a provision for life, 
 my dear. I asked you honorably whether you would 
 share with me and my children the small maintenance 
 I could call my own. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 91 
 
 Ellida. Yes, you did. But I ought not to have 
 
 accepted it. Not at any price Never ought I to 
 
 have sold myself I Bather the basest toil, the most 
 wretched life — but of my own choice and free will. 
 
 Wangel {rising). So the five — six years that we have 
 lived together are altogether worthless in your eyes ? 
 
 Eluda. Nay, do not think that Wangel. With you 
 I have had all the good in life that a human being 
 may hope for. But I did not come into your house of 
 my own free will. That is the point. 
 
 Wangel (looking at her). Not of your own free wUl? 
 
 Ellida. No; it was not with my free will that I came 
 with you hither. 
 
 Wangel {gloomily). Ah! I remember. He returned 
 yesterday. 
 
 Ellida. And his return is at the bottom of everything. 
 It has thrown light on everything. Now I see 
 
 Wangel. And what do you see ? 
 
 Ellida.^ see that the life we have lived together is 
 in truth no real marriage, y 
 
 Wangel {bitterly). You never spoke a truer word. 
 The life we now lead is no true marriage. 
 
 Ellida. Nor has it ever been. Never from the 
 beginning. {She gazes into vacancy.) The first — that 
 might have been a true marriage. 
 
 Wangel. The first; what first do you mean? 
 
 Ellida. Mine — with him. 
 
 Wangel {in bewilderment). I do not understand in 
 the least. 
 
 Ellida. Ah, my dear Wangel ! Do not let us 
 deceive each other — or ourselves either. 
 
 Wangel. No, no But what then? 
 
92 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida.. Well, you see, we can not get over the fact 
 that a promise freely given is as binding as any formal 
 pledge. 
 
 Wangel. But what in the world 
 
 Ellida {passionately rising). Let me be free to leave 
 you, Wangel. 
 
 Wangel. Ellida! Ellida! 
 
 Ellida. Yes, yes; only let me go. Believe me, it 
 can not end in any other way. 
 
 Wangel (controlling his grief). And has it really 
 come to this ? 
 
 Ellida. It must come to this; it could not be 
 otherwise. 
 
 Wangel {looking at her sadly). Even our life in com- 
 mon has failed to win you. Never, never have you 
 been wholly mine. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, Wangel; if I could have loved you how 
 gladly I would. As truly as you deserve to be loved. 
 But I feel so surely that it will never come. 
 
 Wangel. Then a separation — a formal separation — 
 is that what you desire ? 
 
 Ellida. You do not understand me, dear. I care 
 nothing for formalities, for it seems to me that mere 
 externals have nothing to do with the matter. What 
 I want is that we should agree to part, of our own free 
 will. 
 
 Wangel {bitterly and slowly nodding his head). Annul 
 the bargain. Very good. 
 
 Ellida {eagerly). Exactly so ! Annul the bargain. 
 
 Wangel. And then Ellida ? Afterwards ? Have you 
 reflected how things will appear to us both? How 
 life is to shape itself then, for you and for me? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 93 
 
 Elt.ida. That matters not. Afterwards that must be 
 as it may. "What I beg and implore of you, Wangel — 
 what is of real importance — is that you ■will release 
 me, restore me to absolute freedom. 
 
 "W ANGEL. EUida, it is a terrible demand, which you 
 lay before me. Let me at least have time to consider 
 my decision. Let us discuss the case more fully. And 
 take time yourself to weigh what you are doing. 
 
 Ellida. But there is no time to be lost in such dis- 
 cussion. I must be free at once, to-day ! 
 
 Wangel. "Why especially to-day ? 
 
 Ellida. Why ? Because he is coming to-night. 
 
 "Wangel {startled). He, he ? "What has the stranger 
 to do with this matter ? 
 
 Ellida. I desire to face him a free woman. 
 
 "Wangel. And then, what do you propose to do 
 next? 
 
 Ellcda. I do not want to shelter myself with the 
 excuse that I am another man's wife, or that I have 
 no choice. I could then exercise no judgment. 
 
 "Wangel. No choice, do you say, Ellida? Do you 
 speak of a choice — a choice in such a matter? 
 
 Ellida. Tes. I must be free to choose between the 
 two alternatives. I must either let him go away alone 
 or else go with him. 
 
 "Wangel. Do you yourseK understand what you are 
 saying ? Go with him ? Place your whole fate in his 
 hands ? 
 
 Ellida. But did I not place my whole fate in your 
 hands; and that without question ? 
 
 Wangel. That may be. But he, he a perfect stranger; 
 a man of whom you know so little ? 
 
94 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Aye, but I knew less, perhaps, of youj and 
 yet I came with you. 
 
 Wanqel. Tou knew at any rate, to some extent, what 
 sort of life you would lead. But in this case, consider, 
 what do you know about it? Nothing, whatever; not 
 even who he is, or what he is. 
 
 Ellida (gazing before her). That is true. <But that 
 is just the horror of it."^ 
 
 Wangel. Tes, it is a horror 
 
 Ellida. And that makes me feel as if I could not 
 help myself. 
 
 Wangel (looking at her). Because it is a horror to you? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, for that very reason. 
 
 Wangel (approaches her). Listen, Ellida. Exactly, 
 what do you mean by a horror ? 
 
 Ellida (considering). . A horror — is something which 
 terrifies and attracts 
 
 Wangel. Attracts? 
 
 Ellida. Generally ; yes — I should say so. 
 
 Wangel (slowly). You are akin to the sea. 
 
 Ellida. And that, too, is a horror. 
 
 Wangel. It is a horror in your nature. You, too, 
 terrify and attract. 
 
 Ellida. Do you think so, Wangel ? 
 
 Wangel. I have never really known you till now; 
 never thoroughly understood you. I begin to do so 
 at last. 
 
 ■Ellida. Then you must set me free I Eelease me 
 from the tie to you and yours ! I am not what you 
 thought me, that you yourself have discovered; so 
 now we can part with a clear understanding, of our 
 own free will. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 95 
 
 Wasgel {sadly). It would, perhaps, be best for us 
 both that we should part. And yet I can not. Tou 
 are that horror to me, Ellida. But in you the attraction 
 is strongest. 
 
 Eluba. Do you think so ? 
 
 Wangel. Let us try to get through this day in sober 
 reflection, with a calm mind. This day I dare not 
 release you. I have no right to do so — for your own 
 sake, Ellida. It is my right and my duty to protect you. 
 
 Ellida. To protect me ! Against what ? There is 
 no force, no power from without which threatens me. 
 The horror lies deeper, Wangel. The real horror is 
 that which lies in myself. And what can you do 
 against that ? 
 
 Wangel. I can strengthen and help you in the 
 struggle against it. 
 
 Ellida. A.ye, if I wished to struggle against it 
 
 Wangel. And do you not ? 
 
 Ellida. That is just what I do not know myself. 
 
 Wangel. To-night must settle everything, dear 
 Ellida 
 
 Ellida (with a cry). To think that the decision is so 
 near ! The final cast for a whole lifetime. 
 
 Wangel. And to-morrow 
 
 Ellida, Ah ! to-morrow ! Perhaps my whole future 
 life will be wrecked. 
 
 Wangel. Wrecked, Ellida ! 
 
 Ellida. All the freedom of a whole lifetime wrecked — 
 wrecked so far as I am concerned. And for him, too, 
 perhaps ! 
 
 Wangel {gently, taking her wrist). Ellida. Do you love 
 this man? 
 
96 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Do I? Ah, how should I know? I only 
 
 Imow that to me he is a horror, and that 
 
 Wangbl. Well 
 
 Ellida {freeing herself). That I belong to him — as it 
 seems to me. 
 
 Wangel {hanging his head). I begin to understand 
 it all. 
 
 Ellida. And what remedy have you for it all ? What 
 advice can you give me ? 
 
 Wangel {looks at her mournfully). To-morrow he will 
 be gone. Then this misfortune will be averted, and 
 then I am ready to release and emancipate you. Then 
 Ellida, we will annul the bargain. 
 
 Ellida. To-morrow ! But, Wangel, to-morrow will 
 be too late. 
 
 Wangel {looking out into the garden). The children are 
 coming. The children ! Let us spare them — for the 
 present. 
 
 Abnholm, Bolette, Hilda and Lyngsteand come up the 
 garden. Lyngsteand takes leave and goes away to. the 
 left ; the others come into the room. 
 
 Abnholm. Only think, we have made a plan 
 
 Hilda. We are going out on the fiord this evening. 
 Bolette. NO;, no; do not tell. 
 Wangel. We, too, have made a plan. 
 Abnholm. Indeed ! 
 
 Wangel. To-morrow morning Ellida is going to 
 Skjoldvik for a short time. 
 
 Bolette. Going 
 
 Abnholm. That is most wise, Mrs. Wangel. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 97 
 
 Wangel. Ellida pines to go home; home to the sea. 
 
 Hilda {running up to Ellida). You are going away ! 
 Leaving us ! 
 
 Ellida {startled). Why, Hilda, what possesses you ? 
 
 Hilda {checking herself). Oh, nothing. {Mutters as 
 she turns away.) Well, then, go ! 
 
 BoLETTB {caviiously). Papa, I see it in your face; you 
 are going, too, to Skjoldvik ? 
 
 Wahgel. Certainly not— to see her, perhaps, now and 
 then. 
 
 BoLETTE. And we — here 
 
 Wangel. I shall see you, too. 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, now and then. 
 
 Wangel. Dear child; it can not be otherwise. {He 
 goes to the other' side of the room.) 
 
 AfiNHOLM {aside to Bolette). We will talk of this 
 later. 
 
 Be goes up to Wangel, and talks to him in an undertone, 
 near the door. 
 
 Eluda {in an undertone to Bolette). What was the 
 matter with Hilda. She looked quite disturbed. 
 
 Bolette. Have you never discovered what Hilda 
 thirsts for, day and night? 
 
 Ellida. Thirsts for? 
 
 Bolette. Ever since you came into the house. 
 
 Ellida. No, no — what is it ? 
 
 Bolette. One loving word from you. 
 
 Ellida. Ah ! Can this then be a task in life for me ? 
 {She clasps her hands on her head, staring into spaice, as 
 if torn by contradictory thoughts and moods.) 
 7 
 
98 '^HE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Wangbl and Abnholm walk up and down in whispered 
 conversation. 
 
 BoLETTE (toofcs into the room on the right and then opens 
 the door). Luncheon is on the table, dear father, if 
 you 
 
 Wangel {with an effort at composure). Indeed, dear; 
 that is well. Allow me, professor — we will go and 
 drink a " stirrup cup " to the Lady of the Sea. 
 
 They go off to the right. 
 
ACT V. 
 
 [The comer of the garden by the pool. Summer twilight, 
 gradiuiUy growing darker. Aenholm, Bolette, Hilda 
 and Ltngstrand are in a boat going along the bank to 
 the right."] 
 
 TTtt.da. Look. Here we can easily jump on shore. 
 Arnholm. No, no. Do not try. 
 Ltngsteamd. I can not jump. 
 Hilda. And you, professor — can you jump ? 
 Aenholm. I would rather not. 
 
 Bolette. Let us pull up to the steps by the bathing- 
 house. 
 
 They pvM away and off to the right. 
 
 Ballested comes at the same moment by the footpath from, 
 the right, carrying a music-box and a horn. He greets 
 the party in the boat, turning to speak to them. Their 
 replies become m.ore and more distant. 
 
 Ballested. What do you say? On account of the 
 English vessel, of course. Because this is the last 
 time it will come this year. But if you want to hear 
 the music you want to make haste. {Hie shouts.) 
 What do you say ? {Shaking his head.) I can not hear 
 what you are saying. 
 
 Ellida vrith a shawl over her head comes from the left, 
 followed by Wangel. 
 
 Wangel. But, my dear Ellida, I assure you it is 
 quite early yet. 
 
100 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. No, no. It is not. He may come at any 
 moment. 
 
 Ballested {outside the fence). Hah i Good evening, 
 doctor, good evening. Good evening, Mrs. Wangel. 
 
 Wangel (noticing him). Oh, it is you ! Is there to be 
 music then, to-night? 
 
 Ballested. Yes; the Society of Horn-Players intend 
 to perform. We rarely have a sufficient occasion now- 
 a-days. To-night it is in honor of the English vessel. 
 
 Ellida. The English vessel ? Is it in sight yet ? 
 
 Ballested. Not yet. But is coming down among the 
 islands. It will be here before we know it. 
 
 Ellida. Aye — just so. 
 
 Wangel {half to Ellida). To-night is the last trip. It 
 will come no more. 
 
 Ballested. A melancholy thought, doctor. But that 
 is why, as I said, we are to play in its honor. Yes, yes. 
 The pleasant summertime is drawing to a close. The 
 water-ways will be locked, as the poets say. 
 
 Ellida. The water-ways will be locked — yes. 
 
 Ballested. It is sad to think of. For weeks and 
 months we have been the gay children of the summer. 
 It is hard to reconcile ourselves to the gloomy 
 
 season At first I mean, for man can accli — 
 
 acclimatize himself to anything, Mrs. Wangel. Yes, 
 indeed, to anything. {His bows and goes off to the 
 left.) 
 
 'EiLu.iiA. {looking out over the for dy Oh, this frightful 
 suspense! This terrible half-hour before the final 
 decision ! 
 
 Wangel. Then you are quite determined to speak 
 with him? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 101 
 
 EixiDA. I must speak -n ith him. I must make the 
 choice of my own free ■will. 
 
 Wangel. Ellida, you have no choice, you have no 
 right to choose, and I give you none. 
 
 Ellbda. You can not hinder me. Neither you nor any 
 one else. You can forbid my going with him — if, 
 indeed, that should be my choice. You can keep 
 me here by force, against my will. That you can do. 
 But that I should make a choice, in my inmost soul — 
 the choice between him and you, v^hich I must and 
 will make — tfiat you can not prevent. 
 
 Wangel. No, there you are right. I can not prevent 
 that. 
 
 Ellida. Besides, there is here no single thing to 
 -withhold me. Nothing in the world which holds or 
 binds me. I have taken no root in your house, 
 Wangel. Your children are not mine — their hearts 
 are not mine, I mean, and never have been. When I 
 go — if I go — either to-night with him, or to-morrow 
 to Skjoldvik, I have not a key to surrender, not an 
 order to leave to either of them — to anyone. So 
 utterly without root am I in your house, so com- 
 pletely outside of it, have I remained from the first. 
 
 Wangel. You, yourself, would have it so. 
 
 Ellida- No, indeed, not I. I neither would nor 
 would not I have simply let things go on as I found 
 them when I came. It was you — and no one else — 
 who would have it so. 
 
 Wangel. I thought I was doing the best for you. 
 
 Ellid.\. Yes, Wangel, I know that full well. But 
 there is retribution in it — something that will be 
 revenged. For me I can find no binding force, no 
 
102 • THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 mainstay, no help, no strong attraction in what ought 
 to have been ours in common. 
 
 Wangel. I see that clearly enough, Ellida. And for 
 that reason to-morrow morning you shall have your 
 liberty again. Henceforth you shall live your own 
 life. 
 
 Ellida. Is that what you call my own life? Oh, no! 
 My own true life was dragged out of its groove when 
 I consented to share yours. (Glehching her hands in 
 impatient distress.) And now — to-night, in half an 
 hour — he is coming whom I .betrayed; he to whom I 
 ought to have clung irrevocably, so long as he clung 
 to me 1 He is coming to offer me once more — for the 
 last and only time — the chance of living my life over 
 again, my own true life — the life which terrifies me 
 and tempts me, which I can not forego, can not give 
 up of my own free will. 
 
 Wanoel. And for that very reason it is needful that 
 your husband — and your physician — should take it 
 out of your hands and act for you. 
 
 Ellida. Yee, Wangel, I quite understand that. Ah, 
 indeed, you need not believe that thei-e are not times 
 when I feel that it would be peace and salvation to fly 
 to you, and try to defy all the powers of terror and 
 temptation, and yet I can not. No, no, I can not! 
 
 Wangel. Come, Ellida, let us walk up and down a 
 little while. 
 
 Ellida. I should like it — but I dare not. For he 
 said I was to wait for him here. 
 
 Wangel. Only come. There is plenty of time yet. 
 
 Ellida. Do you think so ? 
 
 Wangel. Ample time, I assure you. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 103 
 
 Ellida. Then just for a short time. {They go off in 
 front to the right.) 
 
 Abnholm and Bolette enter right at the back, down the 
 bank of the pool. 
 
 Bolette {noticing Wangel and Ellida). Look there ! 
 
 Arnholm (in a low voice). Hush. Let them go. 
 
 Bolette. Can you understand what has been going 
 on between those two these last few days ? 
 
 Aenholm. Have you noticed anything ? 
 
 Bolette. As if I could help it. 
 
 Aknholm. Anything unusual? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, many things. Have not you? 
 
 Abnholm. I can hardly tell. 
 
 Bolette. Tes, you must have; but you will not 
 admit it. 
 
 Arnholm. I believe it will be very good for your 
 stepmother to make that little journey. 
 
 Bolette. Bo you think so ? 
 
 Arnholm. Tes. I feel sure that it will be a good 
 thing for all iiarties, if she now and then makes some 
 little trijj. 
 
 Bolette. If she goes off to-morrow to Skjoldvik she 
 will never more come back to us. 
 
 Abnholm. But, dear Bolette, what has put that into 
 your head ? 
 
 Bolette. I am firmly convinced of it. Only wait, 
 and you will see; she will never come back. At any 
 rate, never so long as Hilda and I are in the house. 
 
 Abnholm. What, Hilda too ? 
 
 Bolette. Well, she might, perhaps, put up with 
 Hilda, for she is hardly more than a child after all. 
 
104 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 And I believe she worships Ellida in her heart. But 
 with me, you see it is different. A stepmother not 
 much older than myself 
 
 Arnholm. Dear Bolette, it may, perhaps, not be so 
 long before you yourself leave the place. 
 
 Bolette {eagerly). Tou don't say so. Have you 
 spoken to my father about it then ? 
 
 Aenholm. Yes, I did mention it. 
 
 Bolette. Well, and what did he say ? 
 
 Aenholm. Your father has been so much absorbed 
 in other things this day or two 
 
 Bolette. Yes, I told you it would be so. 
 
 Aenholm. But I got so much out of him as this, that 
 you must not count on him for assistance. 
 
 Bolette. No ? 
 
 Aenholm. He fully went into the subject of his affairs. 
 He thought anything of the kind was quite out of his 
 power. 
 
 Bolette {reproachfully). And you could have the 
 heart to make game of me 
 
 Aenholm. Nay, that I did not, dear Bolette. It 
 depends solely on yourself whether you quit this place 
 or no. 
 
 Bolette. What ? It depends on me ? 
 
 Aenholm. Whether you get out into the world, and 
 learn everything you wish to know, and take part in 
 everything which here at home you so long for, and live 
 altogether a pleasanter life. What do you say to that? 
 
 Bolette {clasping her hands). Merciful heaven ! But 
 it is impossible, quite impossible. My father neither 
 will nor can — there is no one else in all the world to 
 whom I can look. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 105 
 
 Arnholm. Could you then not make up jour mind 
 to accept such help from your old — your former 
 tutor? 
 
 BoLETTE. From you, Mr. Arnholm. Would you 
 really 
 
 Abnholm. Give you Buch assistance ? Yes, with all 
 my heart. Both by word and deed. On that you may 
 rely. Do you agree, then ? Do you consent ? 
 
 BoLETTE. Do I consent? To getaway — to see the 
 world — to learn something thoroughly. All which 
 has seemed to me the great, impossible delight 
 
 Arnholm. Aye, it may all become reality, if only you 
 choose that it shall. 
 
 BoLETTE. And you will help me to this wonderful 
 good fortune. Oh, no ! Tell me, Mr. Arnholm, can 
 I accept such a sacrifice from a stranger ? 
 
 Arnholm. You can accept it from me — from me you 
 might accept anything, whatever it might be. 
 
 BoLETTE {grasping his hands). Yes, I almost think I 
 
 might. I do not know how it is, but {she breaks 
 
 off). Oh, I could laugh and cry together for joy, for 
 sheer happiness! Now I shall really live — I was 
 beginning to fear lest life should elude me altogether. 
 
 Arnholm. You need not fear that, dear Bolette; but 
 now you must tell me truly, is there anything — any- 
 thing which ties you here ? 
 
 BoLETTB. Which ties me ? Nothing. 
 
 Arnholm. Positively nothing ? 
 
 Bolette. Positively notliing. That is to say — my 
 father ties me to a certain extent; and Hilda. But 
 
 Arnholm. Well — you will have to leave your father 
 sooner or later. And Hilda will one day go her own 
 
106 THE LADY FROM TSE SEA. 
 
 way through life. It is merely a question of time. 
 But is there nothing else which ties you, Bolette ? No 
 attachment of any kind ? 
 
 Bolette. No, none. For that matter I can go away 
 and wander anywhere that may offer. 
 
 Abnholm. If that is the case, dear Bolette, you shall 
 wander somewhere with me. 
 
 Bolette (clasping her hands). Oh, God in heaven! 
 What joy to think of it. 
 
 Abnholm. For I hope you feel every confidence in me ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, indeed, I do. 
 
 Aknholm. And you dare confidently and implicitly 
 to entrust yourself and your future in my hands, 
 Bolette? You will venture on that — tell me ? 
 
 Bolette. Indeed I will. Why not ? Can you think 
 otherwise; yoa, who are my old tutor — my tutor of 
 old, I should say ? 
 
 Arnholm. And not for that reason . only. I attach 
 no particular importance to that side of the matter. 
 But — well — you are free, Bolette. There is no tie to 
 bind you — and so I ask you whether you could — 
 whether you would — join your lot to mine — for life ? 
 
 Bolette (starts back). What ! What did you say ? 
 
 Aknholm. For life, Bolette — whether you will be 
 my wife ? 
 
 Bolette (half to herself). No, no. Impossible — 
 quite impossible. 
 
 Abnholm. Is it really so impossible to you to 
 
 Bolette. But you can never mean it seriously, Mr. 
 Arnholm (looking at him), or else — to be sure — was 
 that what you meant when you promised to do so 
 much for me ? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 107 
 
 AuNHOLM. You must listen to me for a moment, 
 Bolette. I seem to have startled you very much. 
 
 BoLETTE. Ah, how could such a thing — from you. 
 How could I help being startled? 
 
 Abnholm. Perhaps you are right. Tou did not 
 know — you could not know, that it was for your sake 
 that I made the journey hither. 
 
 Bolette. Yoli came here for my sake? 
 
 Abnholm. Yes — Bolette — in the spring I had a 
 letter from j our father, and in it there was a passage 
 which made me think — well — that you regarded your 
 former teacher with a warmer feeling than friendship. 
 
 Bolette. How could papa write such a thing? 
 
 Aenholm. That was not in truth what he meant. 
 But I lived thence forward in the persuasion that there 
 was here a young girl who longed for my coming. 
 Nay, do not interrupt me, dear Bolette. And you see — 
 when a man like me, no longer in his first youth, is led 
 to such a belief — or such a fancy — it makes a deep 
 impression on him. It aroused in me a very lively — 
 a very grateful feeling for you. I felt that I must 
 come to you — to see you once more, to tell you that I 
 shared the sentiment which I imagined you to feel 
 for me. 
 
 Bolette. But now that you know it is not so ! that it 
 was a mistake 
 
 Arnholm. It makes no difference, Bolette. That 
 fancy, as I bear it in my heart, will always wear the 
 color and stamp which the mistake aroused in me. 
 You, perhaps, can not understand this; but so it is. 
 
 Bolette. Never had I thought such a thing as 
 possible ! 
 
108 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Arnholm. But now that you have seen that it is pos- 
 sible? What do you say, Bolette? Could you not 
 make up your mind to be my wife ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, but it seems to me so utterly impos- 
 sible. Mr. Arnholm, you — who were my teacher — I can 
 not think of myself as standing in any other relation 
 to you. 
 
 Arnholm. Well, yes. And if you still do not think 
 that you can, our relations will remain unchanged, 
 dear Bolette. 
 
 Bolette. How do you mean ? 
 
 Arnholm. I shall of course keep my promise all the 
 same. I will take care that you get out of this place 
 and see the world; that you learn something which 
 you really care to learn; that you live in sheltered and 
 independent circumstances. And your later future 
 shall also be made safe for you, Bolette, for in me you 
 will always find a true, faithful and trustworthy friend. 
 Of that you may be perfectly ceirtain. 
 
 Bolette. But good heavens, Mr. Arnholm, you have 
 made this all impossibl«. 
 
 Arnholm. What ! is this, too, impossible ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, you must see that it is. After what 
 you have said — after the answer that I gave you — 
 Oh ! You yourself must understand that I can not 
 possibly accept such an immense boon from you. I 
 can accept nothing, nothing from you now. Never — 
 after that. 
 
 Arnholm. Then you would rather remain sitting at 
 home here, and let your life slip away ? 
 
 Bolette. Oh, that is terrible, miserable to' think of 1 
 
 Arnholm. Would you rather give up the notion of 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 109 
 
 seeing sometLing of the world? Sacrifice the hope 
 of all the experiences you yourself told me that you 
 long for? Know how much there is to be learnt, and 
 nevertheless never learn it thoroughly? Eeflect, 
 Bolette. 
 
 BoLETTE. Yes, yes. You are very right, Mr. Arn- 
 holm. 
 
 Abnholm. Besides — when, some day, your father is 
 no more, you perhaps will find yourself alone and help- 
 less in the world. Or, again, you might marry another 
 man for whom you could — it is possible — feel no 
 affection. 
 
 Bolette. Oh, yes. I see well enough how true it all 
 is — all you say. But, nevertheless — and yet, per- 
 haps 
 
 Arnholm {quickly). "Well? 
 
 Bolette {looks at him doublingly). Perhapu it might 
 not be quite impossible. 
 
 Arnholm. What, Bolette ? 
 
 Bolette. That I might arrange — to agree — to your 
 proposal. 
 
 Arnholm. Do you mean that perhaps — that you will 
 at least allow me the happiness of providing for you as 
 a faithful friend ? 
 
 Bolette. No; oh, no! Not that. That must be 
 quite out of the question. No, Mr. Arnholm, it would 
 be better that you should take me 
 
 Abnholm. Bolette — really — you will ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes, I think — I think I will. 
 
 Abnholm. You will indeed be my wife ? 
 
 Bolette. Yes. If you still think that — that you 
 will have me. 
 
110 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Arnholm. If I still ! {Taking her hand.\ Thank 
 
 you, oh tbank you, Bolette. What you said before — 
 your indecision — does not alarm nip. If I can not 
 yet leel that your heart is whully ;;il .0, 1 shall know 
 ho A to win it. Oh, Bolette, I will carry you in my 
 arms, as it were. 
 
 Bolette. And I am to see the world, to live a real 
 life ? Tou promised me that. 
 
 Arnholm. And I will keep my word. 
 
 Bolette. And I am to be allowed to learn everything 
 I wish? 
 
 Arnholm. I shall myself be your teacher; as I used, 
 to be, Bolette. Do you remember the last year of our 
 studies ? 
 
 Bolette {calmly meditative). To think — to know that 
 I am free to go out into the world! Toi have no 
 anxiety for the future. Not to have to concern myself 
 about stupid money matters 
 
 Arnholm. No; and is it not true, dear Bolette, that 
 this of itself is a good thing ? Tell me. 
 
 Bolette. Yes, it is indeed. That is quite certainly 
 true. 
 
 Arnholm {puts his arm round her). Oh you will see 
 how snug and happy we shall be, and how well and 
 peacefully and smoothly we shall get on together, 
 Bolette. 
 
 Bolette. Yes. I begin — I believe in my heart that 
 we shall be happy. {She looks out to the right and hastily 
 frees herself.) Oh, but say nothing about it. 
 
 Arnholm. What is it, sweetheart? 
 
 Bolette. There is that poor fellow. {Pointing.) 
 Look, out there. 
 
THE LADY FR OM THE SEA. \\\ 
 
 Aknholm. Your father? 
 
 BoLETTE. No; the young sculptor. He is walking 
 with Hilda. 
 
 Aknholm. Oh, Lyngstrand. What is wrong with 
 him? 
 
 BoLETTE. You know how weak and ailing he is. 
 
 Abnholm. Yes Unless it is pure imagination. 
 
 BoLETTE. Oh, no. It is true enough. He certainly 
 can not last long. But for him, perhaps, that is best. 
 
 Abnholm. My dearest, why should that be best? 
 
 BoLETTE. Because — because he certainly never will 
 make anything of his art. Let us be gone before they 
 come. 
 
 Arnholm. With all my heart, my own Bolette. 
 
 Hilda and Lyngstband come in from the pool. 
 
 Hilda. Hi, hi ! Will these gentle folks not wait for 
 us? 
 
 Abnholm. Bolette and I would rather go out for a 
 while. 
 
 He and Bolette go off to the left. 
 
 Ltngstkand {with a quiet laugh). It is really most 
 amusing. Here folks always go about in pairs. 
 Always two and two. 
 
 Hilda {looking after them). I could almost swear that 
 he is making love to her. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Indeed ! Have you discerned that? 
 
 Hilda. To be sure. It is not very difficult to see, if 
 only you keep your eyes open. 
 
 Ltngsteand. But Miss Bolette will not accept him; 
 of that I am quite sure. 
 
112 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Hilda. No. For she thinks he has grown too dread- 
 fully old to be looked at, and she believes, too, that he 
 will soon be bald. 
 
 Lyngstrand. Aye, but that is not all. She would not 
 have him in any case. 
 
 Hilda. How can you know ? 
 
 Ltnostband. Because there is some one else whom 
 she has promised to think of. 
 
 Hilda. Only to think of ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. When he is absent; yes. 
 
 Hilda. Oh ! Then it is you, no doubt, of whom she 
 is to thinki 
 
 Lyngstrand. May be; and why not? 
 
 Hilda. Did she promise you she would ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes, only fancy ! She promised me. But 
 you must never tell her that you know of it. 
 
 Hilda. Heaven seal my lips ! I am as silent as the 
 grave. 
 
 Lyngstrand. It seems to me that it is very sweet of 
 her. 
 
 Hilda. And when you come home again will you bt- 
 betrothed to her, and married to her ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. No, that would never do. I dare nol 
 think of such a thing for the next few years, and by 
 the time when at last I shall have got on, she will be 
 too old for me, I fancy. 
 
 Hilda. But then would you have her wait and think 
 of you forever? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Yes; that would be most useful to me. 
 To me as an artist, you understand. And she can quite 
 easily do it, since she herself has no special calling in 
 life. But it is very sweet of her all the same. 
 
THE LADT FROM THE SEA. 113 
 
 Hilda. And do you suppose that you can get on 
 better with your work as an artist if you know that 
 Bolette is still thinking of you ? 
 
 Ltngstrand. Yes, I fancy so. You see that knowing 
 there is somewhere in the world a young, and tender,. 
 and sUent woman who is dreaming of me — I fancy 
 that must be so — so — well, I hardly know what to 
 call it 
 
 Hilda. So inspiring, perhaps, you mean ? 
 
 Lyngstrand. Inspiring? Just so. Inspiring, or some- 
 thing of the Mnd. {He gazes at her for a minute.) You 
 are so clever. Miss Hilda, you are really very clever. 
 When I come home again, you will be about as old as 
 your sister is now. Perhaps, too. you wUl look very 
 much like what your sister is now. Perhaps, you will 
 be yourself and her — both, both together in one 
 person, as it were. 
 
 Hilda. Is that what you would like? 
 
 Lyngstrasd. I do not exactly know. Yes, I almost 
 think so. But at present, for this summer, I would 
 rather that you should be yourself alone. Exactly 
 what you are. 
 
 Hilda. You like me best so ? 
 
 Lyngstband. Yes. I like you very much so. 
 
 Hilda. Now tell me, as an artist — do you think that 
 I should always wear light summer dresses ? 
 
 Lyngstband. Yes ; I think nothing could be better. 
 
 Hilda. You think that light colors suit me ? 
 
 Lyngstband. Yes. To my taste light dresses suit 
 you to perfection. 
 
 Hilda. But tell me, as an artist — how do you think 
 I should look in black ? 
 8 
 
114 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Lyngsteand. In black ? 
 
 Hilda. Yes, all in black. Do you think I should 
 look well ? 
 
 Lyngstkand. Black is not quite the thing for summer 
 wear. However, you would certainly look remarkably 
 nice in black, too. It would suit you particularly well, 
 with your style of beauty. 
 
 Hilda (gazing before her). Black up to the chin, a 
 black frill, black gloves and a long, black veil hanging 
 behind? 
 
 Lyngsteand. If you were so dressed. Miss Hilda, I 
 could wish I were a painter. I should paint you as a 
 young, beautiful, mourning widow. 
 
 Hilda. Or as a young girl mourning for her lovet? 
 
 Lyngsteand. Yes, indeed — better still. But you 
 can not wish to dress so ? 
 
 Hilda. I don't exactly know. But I fancy it would 
 be inspiring. 
 
 Lyngsteand. Inspiring! 
 
 Hilda. Inspiring to think of, yes. {She suddenly 
 points to the left.) Only look there ! 
 
 Lyngsteand {looking out). The big English packet! 
 And quite close by the landing-place. 
 
 Wangel and Ellida come back by the pond. 
 
 Wangel. Nay, I assure you, dear Ellida, you are in 
 error. {He sees the others.) What, are you here? Tell 
 me, Mr. Lyngstrand, she is not in sight yet ? 
 
 Lyngsteand. The English packet ? 
 
 Wangel. Of course. 
 
 Lyngsteand {pointing to it). There she lies. Dr. Wangel. 
 
 Ellida. Ah ! I was sure of it. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 115 
 
 • 
 
 "W ANGEL. In already! 
 
 Lyngbtrand. Come like a thief in the night, as you 
 may say. So quietly and ooiselessly 
 
 Wangel. Tou should go down to the landing place 
 with Hilda. There you will hear the music. 
 
 Ltngstband. We were just going, doctor. 
 
 Wangel. We, perhaps, may follow you. Presently — 
 soon. 
 
 Hilda (flside to Lyngstband). They too are a pair! 
 She andTLizsQsv&hSD gooff through the garden to the left. 
 Horns are here heard in the distance from the fiord through- 
 out the next scene. 
 
 Ellida. It has come ! He is here ! Tes, yes. I feel it. 
 
 Wangel. Tou had better go in, Ellida. Leave me to 
 talk to him alone. 
 
 Ellida. Ah, no, impossible ! Impossible, I tell you 
 {she screams). Oh — do you see him, Wangel? 
 
 The Stranger coTnes from, the left and stands on the path 
 outside the fence. 
 
 Stranger {bowing). Good evening. Here I am "once 
 more, Ellida. 
 
 Eluda. Tes — oh, yes ! The hour has come ! 
 
 Stranger. Are you ready to start? Or are you not? 
 
 Wangel. Tou can see for yourself that she is not. 
 
 Stranger. It is not her traveling dress, or any- 
 thing of that kind that I ask about. Nor whether her 
 trunks are packed. Everything that she can need 
 for the voyage I have ready on board. I have also 
 secured a cabin for her. {To Ellida.) I ask you. Are 
 you ready to come with me — to follow me of your 
 own free will? 
 
116 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida {beseechingly). 0\ do not ask me ! Do not 
 tempt me! {The steamboat bell is heard in the distance.) 
 
 Stranger. That is the first bell for going on board. 
 You must say yes or no. 
 
 Ellida {wrings her hands). I must decide — decide 
 for life. It can never be undone. 
 
 Stranger. Never. In half an hour it will be too late. 
 
 Ellida {looks at him in timid inquiry). Why do you 
 cling to me so persistently and immovably ? 
 
 Stranger. What! Do you not feel, too, that we 
 belong to each other ? 
 
 Ellida. By reason of that promise do you mean ? 
 
 Stranger. Promises bind no one — neither man nor 
 woman. The reason \vhy I cling to you so immovably 
 is because I can not help it. 
 
 Ellida {trembling, in a low voice). Why did you not 
 come sooner ? 
 
 Wangel. Ellida! 
 
 Ellida {cries out). Oh! This which is dragging, 
 tempting, compelling me — away to the unknown I All 
 the powers of the sea are united in this man. 
 
 The Stranger yete over the fence. 
 
 Ellida {shrinks behind Wangel). What is this ? What 
 do you want. 
 
 Stranger. I see, and I hear, Ellida, that I am your 
 choice. 
 
 Wangel {going towards him). My wife has no power 
 to choose; I am here, both to choose for her and to 
 protect her. Tes, to protect her. If you do not take 
 yourself off — out of the country — never to return, 
 do jou know to what you expose yourself ? 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 117 
 
 Ellida. No, no, Wangel. Not that. 
 
 Stbanger. What will you do to me ? 
 
 Wangel. I will have you imprisoned as a criminal 
 forthwith, before you can get on board. For I know 
 all about the murder at Skjoldvik. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, Wangel! How can you 
 
 Stbanger. I was prepared for this; and so (he takes a 
 revolver out of his breast-pocket) I provided myself with 
 this. 
 
 Ellida (throwing herself in front of Wangel). No, 
 no ! Do not kill him ! Kill me rather ! 
 
 Stkanger. Neither you nor him. Be easy on that 
 point. This is for my own use ; for I will live or die a 
 free man. 
 
 Ellida (in increasing excitement). Wangel, let me tell 
 you — so that he may hear it. You can keep me here; 
 you have the power and the means for that — and that 
 you will do ! But my heart — my thoughts, my yearn- 
 ing, longing desires, you can not bind. They will still 
 rebel and strive after the unknown. Away, away! 
 For that I was born and from that you have cut me 
 ofE! 
 
 Wangel (in deep grvef). I see very plainly, Ellida, 
 
 that inch by inch you are slipping away from me. 
 
 This craving for the boundless and the infinite — for 
 
 the unattainable — will finally cloud your mind in the 
 
 -blackness of night. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, oh, yes ! I feel it already — black, noise- ' 
 less wings above my head. 
 
 Wangel. But it shall not come to that. I see no 
 other way of saving you; look where I will I find no 
 other. And so I now and here revoke the bargain. 
 
118 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. • 
 
 You may choose your own way — in perfect, absolute 
 liberty. 
 
 Ellida {gating at him for a while as if speechless) Is it 
 true — true — what you say ? Do you mean it from the 
 bottom of your heart ? 
 
 Wangel. Yes; from the bottom of my sorrow-stricken 
 heart. 
 
 Ellida. You can really do it? You can bear to 
 doit? 
 
 Wangel. I can. I can do it because I love you so 
 well. 
 
 Ellida {in a low voice, trembling). Am I so near — so 
 dear to you? 
 
 Wangel. Years and our life together have brought 
 it about. 
 
 Ellida (clasping her hands). And I — I had never per- 
 ceived it. 
 
 Wangel. Your thoughts have been elsewhere. But 
 now you are completely and utterly released from all 
 ties to me and mine. Now your own true life begins — 
 returns into its right groove. Now you are free to 
 choose. The responsibility is yours, Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {clasping her head and staring out into vacancy 
 beyond Wangel). Free to choose — oh my own responsi- 
 bility — responsibility ! In this — in this the difference 
 lies. 
 
 The steamboat bell is heard again. 
 
 Stranger. Do you hear, Ellida; the bell is ringing 
 for the last time. Come. 
 
 Ellida {turns to him, looks at him fixedly, and says in a 
 loud tone). Never. I will never go with you after 
 this. 
 
THS LADY FROM THE SEA. 119 
 
 Stuanger. You will not! 
 
 Ellida. (clinging to Wangel). I will never leave you 
 after this. 
 
 Wangel. Ellida! BUida! 
 
 Stranger. Then it is all over? 
 
 Ellida. Yes ! Over forever. 
 
 Stranger. I see that clearly enough. Here is some- 
 thing stronger even than my will. 
 
 Ellida. Your will has no longer the smallest power 
 over me. To me you are a dead man who have risen 
 from the sea and gone back into it again. But you 
 are no longer a horror to me and you no longer 
 attract me. 
 
 Stranger. Farewell, then. {He leaps over the fence 
 again.) Henceforth you are nothing in my life — -but 
 a shipwreck I have survived. {He goes off" to the left.) 
 
 Wangel {gazes at her for a minute) Ellida, your soul 
 is like the sea. It has its ebb and flow. Why this 
 sudden change ? 
 
 Ellida. Oh 1 can you not understand that the change 
 came — that it could not but come — as soon as I was 
 free to choose. 
 
 Wangel. And the unknown — has it no longer any 
 charm for you ? 
 
 Ellida. Neither charms, nor terrors. I might look 
 into it; I might have gone forth to it, if only I had 
 chosen to do so. I was free to choose it and for that 
 reason I could forego it. ^ 
 
 Wangel. Now I begin to understand you, little by 
 little. You think and feel in pictures, in living 
 images. Your longing and pining for the sea, its 
 attraction for you, and the power of that stranger 
 
120 THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 were the experience of your growing yearning for 
 liberty. Nothing else. 
 
 Ellida. Oh, I do not know what I can say to thai ; 
 but you have been a good physician to me. You dis- 
 covered and you dared to use the right remedy, the 
 only remedy that could cure me. 
 
 Wangel. Yes; in the extremest need and danger we 
 doctors dare greatly. But now are you mine once 
 more, Ellida ? 
 
 Ellida. Yes, my dear, faithful Wangel. Now 
 I am indeed yours again. Now I can be, for now 
 I go to you in freedom — of my own free will and 
 responsibility. 
 
 Wangel {looks tenderly at her). Ellida ! Ellida ? Oh, 
 to think that now we can live wholly for each 
 other. 
 
 Ellida. With our memories in common. Yours as 
 well as mine. 
 
 Wangel. Quite true, my dearest. 
 
 Ellida. And for our two children, Wangel. 
 
 Wangel. Ours do you call them ? 
 
 Ellida. The children who are not indeed mine, but 
 whom I will win. 
 
 Wangel. Ours ! {Re gladly and eagerly kisses her 
 hands.) Oh, how can I thank you for that word ! 
 
 Hilda, Ballested, Lyng'steand, Arnholm and Bolette 
 come into the garden from the left. At the same time 
 a party of young people from the town and of summer 
 visitors gather outside on the path. 
 
 Hilda {aside to Lyngstrand). Why, look. Papa and 
 she look just like a newly-engaged couple. 
 
THE LADY FROM THE SEA. 121 
 
 Ballested (wha has overheard her). It is summer- 
 time, little lady. 
 
 Abnholm {looking at Wangel and Ellida). The English 
 vessel is off. 
 
 BoLETTE (going to the fence). Tou can see it best from 
 here. 
 
 Lyngsteand. Her last trip this season ! 
 
 Baixested. All the water-ways will soon be locked, as 
 the poets say. It is very sad, Mrs. Wangel. So now 
 we lose sight of her for a while, and to-morrow you 
 are going to Skjoldvick, I am told. 
 
 Wangel. No, nothing of the kind. "We have decided 
 differently this evening. 
 
 Aknholm {looMng-from one to the other). Indeed! 
 really ! 
 
 BoLETTE (returning). Papa, is it true ? 
 
 Hilda (to Ellida). Tou will stay with us after all ! 
 
 Ellida. Yes, dear Hilda, if you wiU have me. 
 
 Hilda (between laughter and tears). If I will have you ! 
 OK! 
 
 AsNHOLM (to Ellida). But this is really such a sur- 
 prise 
 
 Ellida (smiling, but grave). Well, Mr. Arnholm, you 
 
 see Do you recollect our talk yesterday? As, 
 
 once for all, we have become land-animals there is no 
 way of escape out to sea again, nor to the life of the 
 sea, either. 
 
 Lyngstband. Why, that is exactly like my mermaid. 
 
 Elllda. Very much so, certainly. / 
 
 Ballested. But with this difference: that the mer- 
 maid died of it. Human beings, on the contrary, can 
 accla acclimatize themselves to it. 
 
122 THJE LADY FROM THE SEA. 
 
 Ellida. Yes, in freedom they can, Mr. Ballested. 
 
 Wan&el. And on their own responsibility, dear 
 Ellida. 
 
 Ellida {hastily giving him her hand). Yea, that is the 
 point. 
 
 The steam packet glides noiselessly across down the jwrd. 
 The music sounds nearer and nearer.