Modern Icelandic Plays Part 61

_Slvi (takes Ljot by the hand quietly)._

It is better that we leave your parents alone for a little while.

[_Exeunt._

_Jorunn._

You will have to give your consent, Sveinungi. You say yourself that all you have done has been for your daughter.

_Sveinungi_ (_turns to Jorunn, pa.s.sing his earth-stained hand over his forehead_). Did you understand what I was about to do? I wanted to get him into the ruins, and then I meant to give the post a shove.

_Jorunn._

G.o.d forgive you, man!

_Sveinungi._

Now we two must hold together. If we two are of one mind, I believe Ljot will give in. You must try to bring her to her senses.

_Jorunn._

They are very fond of each other. It warmed my heart to see them. It brought back the days of my own youth. I feel sure it would be a sin to try to part those two.

_Sveinungi._

And you say that!

_Jorunn._

I think it was her fate to meet this man. She has always been a good and dutiful daughter.

_Sveinungi._

And it was you who went with me into the house! Have you turned against me-- you too?

_Jorunn (goes to him)._

You must not make the evil worse than it really is. The man looks as if he came of good people, and we have every reason to believe that he is a capable man. Even if we can't keep Ljot here, as we had hoped to do, she will certainly find time to come and see us once in a while, and we shall have that to look forward to.

_Sveinungi._

You think only of your daughter. It is nothing to you if my life-work is wasted. I could name you many farms that have been an ornament to the neighborhood as long as they have been handed down from man to man in the same family, but once they have pa.s.sed into other hands, they have been tended in a makes.h.i.+ft way or left to go to rack and ruin altogether. You have seen those old forlorn places, where the site is overgrown with gra.s.s, and the heather has been allowed to spread all over the yard. They remind me of graves. I tell you the truth: if such a fate were in store for my farm, I should wish for nothing but to be lying under the ruins myself.

_Jorunn._

Who says that your farm will not be rebuilt! You are not so old that you cannot do it without help. If I know you rightly, you always grow younger and stronger whenever there is anything that needs all your powers. In a year or two you will have the buildings up again every bit as fine as before.

_Sveinungi._

Spare your wheedling! What would be the use, even though I got the houses up again? When my days are over, everything will pa.s.s into the hands of careless people. And to think that this should happen only because of a fleeting fancy!

_Jorunn._

Did it seem to you like a pa.s.sing whim when Ljot was begging for your consent? To me it seemed that she was pleading for her life.

_Sveinungi._

Even though this should mean more to my daughter than I think it does, that can alter nothing. It is my right to care for my home and keep it intact even after I am gone. When I am standing out in the _hraun_ and looking toward home, the green yard looks like a spot of suns.h.i.+ne.

_Jorunn._

You take it for granted that none of your kin will ever reap the benefit of your work, but your daughter is not dead, though she has chosen another man than the one you wanted her to marry. Why should not those two have children? They are both strong and healthy, and there is, after all, a chance that some day one of their sons may take over the farm.

_Sveinungi._

I dare say a son of his would be the right man!

_Jorunn._

A daughter's son is often more like his grandfather than his father. You know that as well as I.

_Sveinungi._

You are like a child playing with soap-bubbles. When one breaks, you are straightway ready to blow a new one. You can't make me play at that game. Even though they should have children, do I know how they would turn out? And you see it the same way yourself, but you are trying to fool me into giving my consent.

_Jorunn._

What do you gain even if you have your way and part those two? You may bring it about that your daughter becomes one of those sour old maids; for you cannot mean to drag her to the altar against her will.

_Sveinungi._

I didn't expect you to be against me. You wouldn't mind leaving the farm, if you could live with your daughter. You care more for her than for me.

_Jorunn (her voice growing husky)._

Why do you say this, Sveinungi? I have never weighed my feelings for you two, nor do I intend to do it. I only know that where you are, there I stay too.

_Sveinungi._

Even this very earth upon my hand is dear to me. I care for it as the old house-leek would if she could feel. As for the young man whom you think so much of, I should have grudged him even to have the earth fall on his face. But you were not born here, as I was. You have not lived here as a child. You are an outsider.

_Jorunn._

Am I an outsider! I am grown too old to kneel before you as your daughter did, but if you send her away, I know that even though you build your house both larger and finer, the room will seem less light to me, and the smile will be gone from my face. Can you not spare me the sorrow of losing my only child?

_Sveinungi._

I thought you knew me well enough not to tease me with bootless prayers.

What I have said stands.