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Well; I go,--disclose to none The secret that we share alone with one.
'Twas good of you to listen; now enfold it Deep in your heart,--warm, glowing, as I told it.
[He goes out in the background to the others. FALK looks after him a moment, and paces up and down in the garden, visibly striving to master his agitation. Presently SVANHILD comes out with a shawl on her arm, and is going towards the back.
FALK approaches and gazes at her fixedly.
SVANHILD stops.
SVANHILD [after a short pause].
You gaze at me so!
FALK [half to himself].
Yes, 'tis there--the same; The shadow in her eyes' deep mirror sleeping, The roguish elf about her lips a-peeping, It is there.
SVANHILD.
What? You frighten me.
FALK.
Your name Is Svanhild?
SVANHILD.
Yes, you know it very well.
FALK.
But do you know the name is laughable?
I beg you to discard it from to-night!
SVANHILD.
That would be far beyond a daughter's right--
FALK [laughing].
Hm. "Svanhild! Svanhild!"
[With sudden gravity.
With your earliest breath How came you by this prophecy of death?
SVANHILD.
Is it so grim?
FALK.
No, lovely as a song, But for our age too great and stern and strong, How can a modern demoiselle fill out The ideal that heroic name expresses?
No, no, discard it with your outworn dresses.
SVANHILD.
You mean the mythical princess, no doubt--
FALK.
Who, guiltless, died beneath the horse's feet.
SVANHILD.
But now such acts are clearly obsolete.
No, no, I'll mount his saddle! There's my place!
How often have I dreamt, in pensive ease, He bore me, buoyant, through the world apace, His mane a flag of freedom in the breeze!
FALK.
Yes, the old tale. In "pensive ease" no mortal Is stopped by thwarting bar or cullis'd portal; Fearless we cleave the ether without bound; In practice, tho', we shrewdly hug the ground; For all love life and, having choice, will choose it; And no man dares to leap where he may lose it.
SVANHILD.
Yes! show me but the end, I'll spurn the sh.o.r.e; But let the end be worth the leaping for!
A Ballarat beyond the desert sands-- Else each will stay exactly where he stands.
FALK [sarcastically].
I grasp the case;--the due conditions fail.
SVANHILD [eagerly].
Exactly: what's the use of spreading sail When there is not a breath of wind astir?
FALK [ironically].
Yes, what's the use of plying whip and spur When there is not a penny of reward For him who tears him from the festal board, And mounts, and dashes headlong to perdition?
Such doing for the deed's sake asks a knight, And knighthood's now an idle superst.i.tion.
That was your meaning, possibly?
SVANHILD.
Quite right.
Look at that fruit tree in the orchard close,-- No blossom on its barren branches blows.
You should have seen last year with what brave airs It staggered underneath its world of pears.
FALK [uncertain].
No doubt, but what's the moral you impute?
SVANHILD [with finesse].
O, among other things, the bold unreason Of modern Zacharies who seek for fruit.
If the tree blossom'd to excess last season, You must not crave the blossoms back in this.
FALK.
I knew you'd find your footing in the ways Of old romance.
SVANHILD.
Yes, modern virtue is Of quite another stamp. Who now arrays Himself to battle for the truth? Who'll stake His life and person fearless for truth's sake?
Where is the hero?
FALK [looking keenly at her].
Where is the Valkyria?
SVANHILD [shaking her head].
Valkyrias find no market in this land!
When the faith lately was a.s.sailed in Syria, Did you go out with the crusader-band?
No, but on paper you were warm and willing,-- And sent the "Clerical Gazette" a s.h.i.+lling.
[Pause. FALK is about to retort, but checks himself, and goes into the garden.
SVANHILD [after watching him a moment, approaches him and asks gently: Falk, are you angry?
