Bibliotheca Polyglotta

Fru Inger til Østråt (Lady Inger of Östråt)

Complete text

ELINE.
Husk på: i et halvt år har Lucia, min kæreste søster, sovet i ligkælderen.

ELINA.
Bethink you: this half year past my dearest sister Lucia has been sleeping in the vault below.

BJØRN.
Det er ikke derfor, jomfru Eline, – det er ikke alene derfor, at I går omkring, snart tankefuld og bleg og stille, snart vild og rådløs, som nu ikveld.

BIÖRN.
That is not all, Mistress Elina--it is not that alone that makes you now thoughtful and white and silent, now restless and ill at ease, as you are to-night.

ELINE.
Mener du? Og hvorfor ikke? Var hun ikke mild og from og fager som en sommernat? Bjørn, – jeg siger dig, jeg havde Lucia kær som mit eget liv. Har du glemt, hvor tidt og mange gange vi sad som børn på dine knæ om vinterkvelden? Du sang viser for os, og du fortalte – –

ELINA.
You think so? And wherefore not? Was she not gentle and pure and fair as a summer night? Biörn, I tell you, Lucia was dear to me as my life. Have you forgotten how many a time, as children, we sat on your knee in the winter evenings? You sang songs to us, and told us tales----

BJØRN.
Ja, dengang var I fro og glad.

BIÖRN.
Ay, then your were blithe and gay.

ELINE.
Ja, dengang, du! Da leved jeg vel et dejligt liv i eventyr og i mine egne tanker! Kan det være troligt, at stranden dengang var så nøgen som nu? Var den det, så mærked jeg det ikke. Dernede var det jeg helst gik og digted alle de fagre krøniker; mine helte kom langvejs fra og foer over havet igen; jeg selv leved iblandt dem og fulgte med, når de drog bort. (synker ned på en stol.) Nu kender jeg mig så mat og træt; mine eventyr kan ikke nære mig længer; – de er kun – eventyr. (rejser sig heftigt.) Bjørn, – véd du, hvad der har gjort mig syg? En sandhed. En styg, styg sandhed, som nager mig nat og dag.

ELINA.
Ah, then, Biörn! Then I lived a glorious life in the fable-land of my own imaginings. Can it be that the sea-strand was naked then as now? If it were so, I did not know it. It was there I loved to go, weaving all my fair romances; my heroes came from afar and sailed again across the sea; I lived in their midst, and set forth with them when they sailed away. (Sinks on a chair.) Now I feel so faint and weary; I can live no longer in my tales. They are only--tales. (Rises hastily.) Biörn, do you know what has made me sick? A truth; a hateful, hateful truth, that gnaws me day and night.

BJØRN.
Hvad mener I?

BIÖRN.
What mean you?

ELINE.
Kan du mindes, at du stundom gav os leveregler og gode råd? Søster Lucia fulgte dem; men jeg, – gud bedre!

ELINA.
Do you remember how sometimes you would give us good counsel and wise saws? Sister Lucia followed them; but I--ah, well-a-day!

BJØRN
(trøstende).
Nå, nå!

BIÖRN
(consoling her).
Well, well----!

ELINE.
Jeg véd det, – jeg var stolt, hovmodig! Når vi legte sammen, vilde jeg altid være dronning, fordi jeg var den største, den fagreste, den kløgtigste. Jeg véd det!

ELINA.
I know it--I was proud and self-centred! In all our games, I would still be the Queen, because I was the tallest, the fairest, the wisest! I know it!

BJØRN.
Det er sandt.

BIÖRN.
That is true.

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