Chapter II: Introduction (2)

_The_ MOTHER _rises, takes_ SWANWHITE _in her arms, and places
her, still sleeping, in a huge arm-chair. Then she kneels down
and pulls off_ SWANWHITE'S _stockings. Having thrown these
under the bed, she bends over her daughter's feet as if to
moisten them with her tears. After a while she wipes them with
a white linen cloth and covers them with kisses. Finally she
puts a sandal on each foot which then appears shining white_.

_Then the_ MOTHER _rises to her feet again, takes out a comb of
gold, and begins to comb_ SWANWHITE'S _hair. This finished, she
carries_ SWANWHITE _back to the bed. Beside her she places a
garment of white linen which she takes out of a bag_.

_Having kissed_ SWANWHITE _on the forehead, she prepares to
leave. At that moment a white swan is seen to pass by outside,
and one hears a trumpet-call like the one heard before. Shortly
afterward the_ MOTHER OF THE PRINCE, _also in white, enters
through the gate, having first hung her swan plumage on it_.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Well met, my sister! How long before the cock will crow?

PRINCE'S MOTHER. Not very long. The dew is rising from the roses, the corn-crake's call is heard among the grass, the morning breeze is coming from the sea.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Let us make haste with what we have on hand, my sister.

PRINCE'S MOTHER. You called me so that we might talk of our children.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Once I was walking in a green field in the land that knows no sorrow. There I met you, whom I had always known, yet had not seen before. You were lamenting your poor boy's fate, left to himself here in the vale of sorrow. You opened up your heart to me, and my own thoughts, that dwell unwillingly below, were sent in search of my deserted daughter--destined to marry the young king, who is a cruel man, and evil.

PRINCE'S MOTHER. Then I spoke, while you listened: "May worth belong to worth; may love, the powerful, prevail; and let us join these lonely hearts, in order that they may console each other!"

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Since then heart has kissed heart and soul enfolded soul. May sorrow turn to joy, and may their youthful happiness bring cheer to all the earth!

PRINCE'S MOTHER. If it be granted by the powers on high!

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. That must be tested by the fire of suffering.

PRINCE'S MOTHER. [_Taking in her hand the helmet left behind by the_ PRINCE] May sorrow turn to joy--this very day, when he has mourned his mother one whole year!

_She exchanges the black feathers on the helmet for white and
red ones_.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Your hand, my sister--let the test begin!

PRINCE'S MOTHER. Here is my hand, and with it goes my son's! Now we have pledged them----

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. In decency and honour!

PRINCE'S MOTHER. I go to open up the tower. And let the young ones fold each other heart to heart.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. In decency and honour!

PRINCE'S MOTHER. And we shall meet again in those green fields where sorrow is not known.

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. [_Pointing to_ SWANWHITE] Listen! She dreams of him!--Oh foolish, cruel woman who thinks that lovers can be parted!--Now they are walking hand in hand within the land of dreams, 'neath whispering firs and singing lindens--They sport and laugh----

PRINCE'S MOTHER. Hush! Day is dawning--I can hear the robins calling, and see the stars withdrawing from the sky--Farewell, my sister!

[_She goes out, taking her swan plumage with her._

SWANWHITE'S MOTHER. Farewell!

_She passes her hand over_ SWANWHITE _as if blessing her, then
she takes her plumage and leaves, closing the gate after her_.

_The clock on the table strikes three. The harp is silent for
a moment; then it begins to play a new melody of even greater
sweetness than before_. SWANWHITE _wakes up and looks around;
listens to the harp; gets up from the bed; draws her hands
through her hair; looks with pleasure at her own little feet,
now spotlessly clean, and notices finally the while linen
garment on the bed. She sits down at the table in the place she
occupied during the evening. She acts as if she were looking at
somebody sitting opposite her at the table, where the_ PRINCE
_was seated the night before. She looks straight into his eyes,
smiles a smile of recognition, and holds out one of her hands.
Her lips move at times as if she were speaking, and then again
she seems to be listening to an answer_.

_She points meaningly to the white and red feathers on the
helmet, and leans forward as if whispering. Then she puts her
head back and breathes deeply as if to fill her nostrils with
some fragrance. Having caught something in the air with one
of her hands, she kisses the hand and then pretends to throw
something back across the table. She picks up the quill and
caresses it as if it were a bird; then she writes and pushes
the parchment across the table. Her glances seem to follow
"his" pen while the reply is being written, and at last she
takes back the parchment, reads it, and hides it in her bosom_.

_She strokes her black dress as if commenting on the sad change
in her appearance. Whereupon she smiles at an inaudible answer,
and finally bursts into hearty laughter_.

_By gestures she indicates that her hair has been combed. Then
she rises, goes a little distance away from the table, and
turns around with a bashful expression to hold out one of her
feet. In that attitude she stays for a moment while waiting for
an answer. On hearing it she becomes embarrassed and hides her
foot quickly under her dress_.

_She goes to the chest and takes out the chess-board and the
chess-men, which she places on the lions skin with a gesture of
invitation. Then she lies down beside the board, arranges the
men, and begins to play with an invisible partner_.

_The harp is silent for a moment before it starts a new melody_.

_The game of chess ends and_ SWANWHITE _seems to be talking
with her invisible partner. Suddenly she moves away as if
he were coming too close to her. With a deprecating gesture
she leaps lightly to her feet. Then she gazes long and
reproachfully at him. At last she snatches up the white garment
and hides herself behind the bed_.

_At that moment the_ PRINCE _appears outside the gates, which
he vainly tries to open. Then he raises his eyes toward the sky
with an expression of sorrow and despair_.

SWANWHITE. [_Coming forward_] Who comes with the morning wind?

PRINCE. Your heart's beloved, your prince, your all!

SWANWHITE. Whence do you come, my heart's beloved?

PRINCE. From dreamland; from the rosy hills that hide the dawn; from whispering firs and singing lindens.

SWANWHITE. What did you do in dreamland, beyond the hills of dawn, my heart's beloved?

PRINCE. I sported and laughed; I wrote her name; I sat upon the lion's skin and played at chess.

SWANWHITE. You sported and you played--with whom?

PRINCE. With Swanwhite.

SWANWHITE. It is he!--Be welcome to my castle, my table, and my arms!

PRINCE. Who opens up the golden gates?

SWANWHITE. Give me your hand!--It is as chilly as your heart is warm.

PRINCE. My body has been sleeping in the tower, while my soul was wandering in dreamland--In the tower it was cold and dark.

SWANWHITE. In my bosom will I warm your hand--I'll warm it by my glances, by my kisses!

PRINCE. Oh, let the brightness of your eyes be shed upon my darkness!

SWANWHITE. Are you in darkness?

PRINCE. Within the tower there was no light of sun or moon.

SWANWHITE. Rise up, O sun! Blow, southern wind! And let thy bosom gently heave, O sea!--Ye golden gates, do you believe that you can part two hearts, two hands, two lips--that can by nothing be divided?

PRINCE. Indeed, by nothing!

_Two solid doors glide together in front of the gates so that_
SWANWHITE _and the_ PRINCE _can no longer see each other_.

SWANWHITE. Alas! What was the word we spoke, who heard it, and who punished us?

PRINCE. I am not parted from you, my beloved, for still the sound of my voice can reach you. It goes through copper, steel, and stone to touch your ear in sweet caress. When in my thoughts you're in my arms. I kiss you in my dreams. For on this earth there is not anything that can part us. Swanwhite. Not anything!

PRINCE. I see you, though my eyes cannot behold you. I taste you, too, because with roses you are filling up my mouth----

SWANWHITE. But in my arms I want you!

PRINCE. I am there.

SWANWHITE. No! Against my heart I want to feel the beat of yours--Upon your arm I want to sleep--Oh, let us, let us, dearest God--oh, let us have each other!

_The swallows chirp. A small white feather falls to the
ground_. SWANWHITE _picks it up and discovers it to be a key.
With this she opens gates and doors. The_ PRINCE _comes in_.
SWANWHITE _leaps into his arms. He kisses her on the mouth_.

SWANWHITE. You do not kiss me!

PRINCE. Yes, I do!

SWANWHITE. I do not feel your kisses!

PRINCE. Then you love me not!

SWANWHITE. Hold me fast!

PRINCE. So fast that life may part!

SWANWHITE. Oh, no, I breathe!

PRINCE. Give me your soul!

SWANWHITE. Here!--Give me yours!

PRINCE. It's here!--So I have yours, and you have mine!

SWANWHITE. I want mine back!

PRINCE. Mine, too, I want!

SWANWHITE. Then you must seek it!

PRINCE. Lost, both of us! For I am you, and you are me!

SWANWHITE. We two are one!

PRINCE. God, who is good, has heard your prayer! We have each other!

SWANWHITE. We have each other, yet I have you not. I cannot feel the pressure of your hand, your lip's caress--I cannot see your eyes, nor hear your voice--You are not here!

PRINCE. Yes, I am here!

SWANWHITE. Yes, here below. But up above, in dreamland, I would meet you.

PRINCE. Then let us fly upon the wings of sleep----

SWANWHITE. Close to your heart!

PRINCE. In my embrace!

SWANWHITE. Within your arms!

PRINCE. This is the promised bliss!

SWANWHITE. Eternal bliss, that has no flaw and knows no end!

PRINCE. No one can part us.

SWANWHITE. No one!

PRINCE. Are you my bride?

SWANWHITE. My bridegroom, you?

PRINCE. In dreamland--but not here!

SWANWHITE. Where are we?

PRINCE. Here below!

SWANWHITE. Here, where the sky is clouded, where the ocean roars, and where each night the earth sheds tears upon the grass while waiting for the dawn; where flies are killed by swallows, doves by hawks; where leaves must fall and turn to dust; where eyes must lose their light and hands their strength! Yes, here below!

PRINCE. Then let us fly!

SWANWHITE. Yes, let us fly!

_The_ GREEN GARDENER _appears suddenly behind the table. All
his clothes are green. He wears a peaked cap, a big apron, and
knee-breeches. At his belt hang shears and a knife. He carries
a small watering-can in one hand and is scattering seeds
everywhere_.

PRINCE. Who are you?

GARDENER. I sow, I sow!

PRINCE. What do you sow?

GARDENER. Seeds, seeds, seeds.

PRINCE. What kind of seeds?

GARDENER. Annuals and biennials. One pulls this way, two pull that. When the bridal suit is on, the harmony is gone. One and one make one, but one and one make also three. One and one make two, but two make three. Then do you understand?

PRINCE. You mole, you earthworm, you who turn your forehead toward the ground and show the sky your back--what is there you can teach me?

GARDENER. That you are a mole and earthworm, too. And that because you turn your back on the earth, the earth will turn its back on you. [_He disappears behind the table_.

SWANWHITE. What was it? Who was he?

PRINCE. That was the green gardener.

SWANWHITE. Green, you say? Was he not blue?

PRINCE. No, he was green, my love.

SWANWHITE. How can you say what is not so?

PRINCE. My heart's beloved, I have not said a thing that was not so.

SWANWHITE. Alas, he does not speak the truth!

PRINCE. Whose voice is this? Not that of Swanwhite!

SWANWHITE. Who is this my eyes behold? Not my Prince, whose very name attracted me like music of the Neck, or song of mermaids heard among green waves--Who are you? You stranger with the evil eyes--and with grey hair!

PRINCE. You did not see it until now--my hair, that turned to grey within the tower, in a single night, when I was mourning for my Swanwhite, who is no longer here.

SWANWHITE. Yes, here is Swanwhite.

PRINCE. No, I see a black-clad maid, whose face is black----

SWANWHITE. Have you not seen before that I was clad in black? You do not love me, then!

PRINCE. You who are standing there, so grim and ugly--no!

SWANWHITE. Then you have spoken falsely.

PRINCE. No--for then another one was here! Now--you are filling up my mouth with noisome nettles.

SWANWHITE. Your violets smell of henbane now--faugh!

PRINCE. Thus I am punished for my treason to the king!

SWANWHITE. I wish that I had waited for your king!

PRINCE. Just wait, and he will come.

SWANWHITE. I will not wait, but go to meet him.

PRINCE. Then I will stay.

SWANWHITE. [_Going toward the background_] And this is love!

PRINCE. [_Beside himself_] Where is my Swanwhite? Where, where, where? The kindest, loveliest, most beautiful?

SWANWHITE. Seek her!

PRINCE. 'Twould not avail me here below.

SWANWHITE. Elsewhere then! [_She goes out_.

_The_ PRINCE _is alone. He sits down at the table, covers his
face with his hands, and weeps. A gust of wind passes through
the room and sets draperies and curtains fluttering. A sound as
of a sigh is heard from the strings of the harp. The_ PRINCE
_rises, goes to the bed, and stands there lost in contemplation
of its pillow in which is a depression showing_ SWANWHITE'S
_head in profile. He picks up the pillow and kisses it. A noise
is heard outside. He seats himself at the table again_.

_The doors of the closets fly open. The three_ MAIDS _become
visible, all with darkened faces. The_ STEPMOTHER _enters from
the rear. Her face is also dark_.

STEPMOTHER. [_In dulcet tones_] Good morning, my dear Prince! How have you slept?

PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?

STEPMOTHER. She has gone to marry her young king. Is there no thought of things like that in your own mind, my Prince?

PRINCE. I harbour but a single thought----

STEPMOTHER. Of little Swanwhite?

PRINCE. She is too young for me, you mean?

STEPMOTHER. Grey hairs and common sense belong together as a rule--I have a girl with common sense----

PRINCE. And I grey hairs?

STEPMOTHER. He knows it not, believes it not! Come, maids! Come, Signe, Elsa, Tova! Let's have a good laugh at the young suitor and his grey hairs!

_The_ MAIDS _begin to laugh. The_ STEPMOTHER _joins in_.

PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?

STEPMOTHER. Follow in her traces--here is one!

[_She hands him a parchment covered with writing_.

PRINCE. [_Reading_] And she wrote this?

STEPMOTHER. You know her hand--what has it written?

PRINCE. That she hates me, and loves another--that she has played with me; that she will throw my kisses to the wind, and to the swine my heart--To die is now my will! Now I am dead!

STEPMOTHER. A knight dies not because a wench has played with him. He shows himself a man and takes another.

PRINCE. Another? When there is only one?

STEPMOTHER. No, two, at least! My Magdalene possesses seven barrels full of gold.

PRINCE. Seven?

STEPMOTHER. And more. [_Pause_.

PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?

STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene is skilled in many crafts----

PRINCE. Including witchcraft?

STEPMOTHER. She knows how to bewitch a princeling.

PRINCE. [_Gazing at the parchment_] And this was written by my Swanwhite?

STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene would never write like that.

PRINCE. And she is kind?

STEPMOTHER. Kindness itself! She does not play with sacred feelings, nor seek revenge for little wrongs, and she is faithful to the one she likes.

PRINCE. Then she must be beautiful.

STEPMOTHER. Not beautiful!

PRINCE. She is not kind then.--Tell me more of her!

STEPMOTHER. See for yourself.

PRINCE. Where?

STEPMOTHER. Here.

PRINCE. And this has Swanwhite written----?

STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene had written with more feeling

PRINCE. What would she have written?

STEPMOTHER. That----

PRINCE. Speak the word! Say "love," if you are able!

STEPMOTHER. Lub!

PRINCE. You cannot speak the word!

STEPMOTHER. Lud!

PRINCE. Oh, no!

STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene can speak it. May she come?

PRINCE. Yes, let her come.

STEPMOTHER. [_Rising and speaking to the_ MAIDS] Blindfold the prince. Then in his arms we'll place a princess that is without a paragon in seven kingdoms.

SIGNE _steps forward and covers the eyes of the_ PRINCE _with a
bandage_.

STEPMOTHER. [_Clapping her hands_] Well--is she not coming?

_The peacock makes a rattling noise with his bill; the doves begin to coo_.

STEPMOTHER. What is the matter? Does my art desert me? Where is the bride?

_Four_ MAIDS _enter from the rear, carrying baskets of white
and pink roses. Music is heard from above. The_ MAIDS _go up to
the bed and scatter roses over it_.

_Then come_ TWO KNIGHTS _with closed visors. They take the_
PRINCE _between them toward the rear, where they meet the
false_ MAGDALENE, _escorted by two ladies. The bride is deeply
veiled_.

_With a gesture of her hand the_ STEPMOTHER _bids all depart
except the bridal couple. She herself leaves last of all, after
she has closed the curtains and locked the gates_.

PRINCE. Is this my bride?

FALSE MAGDALENE. Who is your bride?

PRINCE. I have forgot her name. Who is your bridegroom?

FALSE MAGDALENE. He whose name may not be mentioned.

PRINCE. Tell, if you can.

FALSE MAGDALENE. I can, but will not.

PRINCE. Tell, if you can!

FALSE MAGDALENE. Tell my name first!

PRINCE. It's seven barrels full of gold, and crooked back, and grim, and hare-lipped! What's my name? Tell, if you can!

FALSE MAGDALENE. Prince Greyhead!

PRINCE. You're right!

_The_ FALSE MAGDALENE _throws, off her veil, and_ SWANWHITE
_stands revealed_.

SWANWHITE. [_Dressed in a white garment, with a wreath of roses on her hair_] Who am I now?

PRINCE. You are a rose!

SWANWHITE. And you a violet!

PRINCE. [_Taking off the bandage_] You are Swanwhite!

SWANWHITE. And you--are----

PRINCE. Hush!

SWANWHITE. You're mine!

PRINCE. But you--you left me--left my kisses----

SWANWHITE. I have returned--because I love you!

PRINCE. And you wrote cruel words----

SWANWHITE. But cancelled them--because I love you.!

PRINCE. You told me I was false.

SWANWHITE. What matters it, when you are true--and when I love you?

PRINCE. You wished that you were going to the king.

SWANWHITE. But went to you instead, because I love you!

PRINCE. Now let me hear what you reproach me with.

SWANWHITE. I have forgotten it--because I love you!

PRINCE. But if you love me, then you are my bride.

SWANWHITE. I am!

PRINCE. Then may the heavens bestow their blessing on our union!

SWANWHITE. In dreamland!

PRINCE. With your head upon my arm!

_The_ PRINCE _leads_ SWANWHITE _to the bed, in which he places
his sword. Then she lies down on one side of the sword, and he
on the other. The colour of the clouds changes to a rosy red.
The rose-trees murmur. The harp plays softly and sweetly_.

PRINCE. Good night, my queen!

SWANWHITE. Good morning, O my soul's beloved!--I hear the beating of your heart--I hear it sigh like billowing waters, like swift-flying steeds, like wings of eagles--Give me your hand!

PRINCE. And yours!--Now we take wing----

STEPMOTHER. [_Enters with the_ MAIDS, _who carry torches; all four have become grey-haired_] I have to see that my task is finished ere the duke returns. My daughter. Magdalene, is plighted to the prince--while Swanwhite lingers in the tower--[_Goes to the bed_] They sleep already in each other's arms--you bear me witness, maids!

_The_ MAIDS _approach the bed_.

STEPMOTHER. What do I see? Each one of you is grey-haired!

SIGNE. And so are you, Your Grace!

STEPMOTHER. Am I? Let me see!

ELSA _holds a mirror in front of her_.

STEPMOTHER. This is the work of evil powers!--And then, perhaps, the prince's hair is dark again?--Bring light this way!

_The_ MAIDS _hold their torches so that the light from them
falls on the sleeping couple_.

STEPMOTHER. Such is the truth, indeed!--How beautiful they look!--But--the sword! Who placed it there--the sword that puts at naught their plighted troth?

_She tries to take away the sword, but the_ PRINCE _clings to
it without being wakened_.

SIGNE. Your Grace--here's deviltry abroad!

STEPMOTHER. What is it?

SIGNE. This is not Lady Magdalene.

STEPMOTHER. Who is it, then? My eyes need help.

SIGNE. 'Tis Lady Swanwhite.

STEPMOTHER. Swanwhite?--Can this be some delusion of the devil's making, or have I done what I least wished?

_The_ PRINCE _turns his head in his sleep so that his lips meet
those of_ SWANWHITE.

STEPMOTHER. [_Touched by the beautiful sight_] No sight more beautiful have I beheld!--Two roses brought together by the wind; two falling stars that join in downward flight--it is too beautiful!--Youth, beauty, innocence, and love! What memories, sweet memories--when I was living in my father's home--when I was loved by _him_, the youth whom never I called mine--What did I say I was?

SIGNE. That you were loved by him, Your Grace.

STEPMOTHER. Then I did speak the mighty word. Be-loved--so he named me once--"beloved"--ere he started for the war--[_Lost in thoughts_] It was the last of him.--And so I had to take the one I couldn't bear.--My life is drawing to its close, and I must find my joy in happiness denied myself! I should rejoice--at others' happiness--Some kind of joy, at least--at other people's love--Some kind of love, at least--But there's my Magdalene? What joy for her? O, love omnipotent--eternally creative Lord--how you have rendered soft this lion heart! Where is my strength? Where is my hatred--my revenge? [_She seats herself and looks long at the sleeping couple_] A song runs through my mind, a song of love that _he_ was singing long ago, that final night-- [_She rises as if waking out of a dream and flies into a rage; her words come with a roar_] Come hither, men! Here, Steward, Castellan, and Gaoler--all of you! [_She snatches the sword out of the bed and throws it along the floor toward the rear_] Come hither, men!

_Noise is heard outside; the men enter as before_.

STEPMOTHER. Behold! The prince, the young king's vassal, has defiled his master's bride! You bear me witness to the shameful deed! Put chains and fetters on the traitor and send him to his rightful lord! But in the spiked cask put the hussy. [_The_ PRINCE and SWANWHITE _wake up_] Equerry! Gaoler! Seize the prince!

_The_ EQUERRY _and the_ GAOLER _lay hands on the_ PRINCE.

PRINCE. Where is my sword? I fight not against evil, but for innocence!

STEPMOTHER. Whose innocence?

PRINCE. My bride's.

STEPMOTHER. The hussy's innocence! Then prove it!

SWANWHITE. Oh, mother, mother!

_The white swan flies by outside_.

STEPMOTHER. Maids, bring shears! I'll cut the harlot's hair!

SIGNE _hands her a pair of shears_.

STEPMOTHER. [_Takes hold of_ SWANWHITE _by the hair and starts to cut it, but she cannot bring the blades of the shears together]_ Now I'll cut off your beauty and your love! [_Suddenly she is seized with panic, which quickly spreads to the men and the three_ MAIDS] Is the enemy upon us? Why are you trembling?

SIGNE. Your Grace, the dogs are barking, horses neighing--it means that visitors are near.

STEPMOTHER. Quick, to the bridges, all of you! Man the ramparts! Fall to with flame and water, sword and axe!

_The_ PRINCE _and_ SWANWHITE _are left alone_.

GARDENER. [_Appears from behind the table; in one hand he carries a rope, the_ DUKE'S _horn in the other_] Forgiveness for those who sin; for those who sorrow, consolation; and hope for those who are distressed!

SWANWHITE. My father's horn! Then help is near! But--the prince?

GARDENER. The prince will follow me. A secret passage, underground, leads to the shore. There lies his bark. The wind is favourable! Come!

[_The_ GARDENER _and the_ PRINCE _go out._ SWANWHITE _alone,
blows the horn. An answering signal is heard in the distance.
The_ GAOLER _enters with the spiked cask_. SWANWHITE _blows the
horn again. The answer is heard much nearer_.

_The_ DUKE _enters. He and_ SWANWHITE _are alone on the stage_.

DUKE. My own beloved heart, what is at stake?

SWANWHITE. Your own child, father!--Look--the spiked cask over there!

DUKE. How has my child transgressed?

SWANWHITE. The prince's name I learned, by love instructed--spoke it--came to hold him very dear.

DUKE. That was no capital offence. What more?

SWANWHITE. At his side I slept, the sword between us----

DUKE. And still there was no capital offence, though I should hardly call it wise--And more?

SWANWHITE. No more!

DUKE. [_To the_ GAOLER, _pointing to the spiked cask_] Away with it! [_To_ SWANWHITE] Well, child, where is the prince?

SWANWHITE. He's sailing homeward in his bark.

DUKE. Now, when the tide is battering the shore?--Alone? Swanwhite. Alone! What is to happen?

DUKE. The Lord alone can tell!

SWANWHITE. He's in danger?

DUKE. Who greatly dares has sometimes luck.

SWANWHITE. He ought to have!

DUKE. He will, if free from guilt!

SWANWHITE. He is! More than I am!

STEPMOTHER. [_Entering_] How came you here!

DUKE. A shortcut brought me--I could wish it had been shorter still.

STEPMOTHER. Had it been short enough, your child had never come to harm.

DUKE. What kind of harm?

STEPMOTHER. The one for which there is no cure.

DUKE. And you have proofs?

STEPMOTHER. I've valid witnesses.

DUKE. Then call my butler.

STEPMOTHER. He does not know.

DUKE. [_Shaking his sword at her_] Call my butler!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _trembles. Then she claps her hands four times
together_.

_The_ BUTLER _enters_.

DUKE. Have made a pie of venison, richly stuffed with onions, parsley, fennel, cabbage--and at once!

_The_ BUTLER _steals a sidelong glance at the_ STEPMOTHER.

DUKE. What are you squinting at? Be quick!

_The_ BUTLER _goes out_.

DUKE. [_To the_ STEPMOTHER] Now call the master of my pleasure-garden.

STEPMOTHER. He does not know!

DUKE. And never will! But he must come! Call, quick!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _claps her hands six times_.

_The_ FLOWER GARDENER _enters_.

DUKE. Three lilies bring: one white, one red, one blue.

_The_ GARDENER _looks sideways at the_ STEPMOTHER.

DUKE. Your head's at stake!

_The_ GARDENER _goes out_.

DUKE. Summon your witnesses!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _claps her hands once_.

SIGNE _enters_.

DUKE. Tell what you know--but choose your words! What have you seen?

SIGNE. I have seen Lady Swanwhite and the prince together in one bed.

DUKE. With sword between?

SIGNE. Without.

DUKE. I can't believe it!--Other witnesses?

_The_ TWO KNIGHTS _enter_.

DUKE. Were these the groomsmen?--Tell your tale.

FIRST KNIGHT. The Lady Magdalene I have escorted to her bridal couch.

SECOND KNIGHT. The Lady Magdalene I have escorted to her bridal couch.

DUKE. What's that? A trick, I trow--that caught the trickster!--Other witnesses?

ELSA _enters_.

DUKE. Tell what you know.

ELSA. I swear by God, our righteous judge, that I have seen the prince and Lady Swanwhite fully dressed and with a sword between them.

DUKE. One for, and one against--two not germane.--I leave it to the judgment of the Lord!--The flowers will speak for him.

TOVA. [_Enters_] My gracious master--noble lord!

DUKE. What do you know?

TOVA. I know my gracious mistress innocent.

DUKE. O, child--so you know that! Then teach us how to know it too.

TOVA. When I am saying only what is true----

DUKE. No one believes it! But when Signe tells untruth, we must believe!--And what does Swanwhite say herself? Her forehead's purity, her steady glance, her lips' sweet innocence--do they not speak aloud of slander? And "slander" is the verdict of a father's eye.--Well then--Almighty God on high shall give his judgment, so that human beings may believe!

_The_ FLOWER GARDENER _enters carrying three lilies placed in
three tall and narrow vases of glass. The_ DUKE _places the
flowers in a semicircle on the table. The_ BUTLER _enters with
a huge dish containing a steaming pie_.

DUKE. [_Placing the dish within the semicircle formed by the three flowers_] The white one stands for whom?

ALL. [_Except_ SWANWHITE. _and the_ STEPMOTHER] For Swanwhite.

DUKE. The red one stands for whom?

ALL. [As _before_] The prince.

DUKE. For whom the blue one?

ALL. [As _before_] The youthful king.

DUKE. Well, Tova--child who still has faith in innocence because you too are innocent--interpret now for us the judgment of the Lord--tell us the gentle secrets of these flowers.

TOVA. The evil part I cannot utter.

DUKE. I will. What's good I'll leave for you.--As the steam from the blood of the prurient beast rises upward--as upward the smell of the passionate spices is mounting--what see you?

TOVA. [_Gazing at the three lilies_] The white one folds its blossom to protect itself against defilement. That is Swanwhite's flower.

ALL. Swanwhite is innocent.

TOVA. The red one, too--the prince's lily--closes its head--but the blue one, which stands for the king, flings wide its gorge to drink the lust-filled air.

DUKE. You've told it right! What more is there to see?

TOVA. I see the red flower bend its head in reverent love before the white one, while the blue one writhes with envious rage.

DUKE. You've spoken true!--For whom is Swanwhite then?

TOVA. For the prince, because more pure is his desire, and therefore stronger, too.

ALL. [_Except_ SWANWHITE _and the_ STEPMOTHER] Swanwhite for the prince!

SWANWHITE. [_Throwing herself into her father's arms_] O, father!

DUKE. Call back the prince! Let every trump and bugle summon him. Hoist sail on every bark! But first of all--the spiked cask is for whom?

_All remain silent_.

DUKE. Then I will say it: for the duchess; for the arch-liar and bawd!--Know, evil woman, that though nothing else be safe against your tricks, they cannot conquer love!--Go--quick--begone!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _makes a gesture which for a moment seems to
stun the_ DUKE.

DUKE. [_Draws his sword and turns the point of it toward the_ STEPMOTHER, _having first seated_ SWANWHITE _on his left shoulder_] A-yi, you evil one! My pointed steel will outpoint all your tricks!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _withdraws backward, dragging her legs behind
her like a panther_.

DUKE. Now for the prince!

_The_ STEPMOTHER _stops on the balcony, rigid as a statue. She
opens her mouth as if she were pouring out venom_.

_The peacock and the doves fall down dead. Then the_ STEPMOTHER
_begins to swell. Her clothes become inflated to such an extent
that they hide her head and bust entirely. They seem to be
flaming with a pattern of interwoven snakes and branches. The
sun is beginning to rise outside. The ceiling sinks slowly into
the room, while smoke and fire burst from the fireplace_.

DUKE. [_Raising the cross-shaped handle of his sword toward the_ STEPMOTHER] Pray, people, pray to Christ, our Saviour!

ALL. Christ have mercy!

_The ceiling resumes its ordinary place. The smoke and fire
cease. A noise is heard outside, followed by the hum of many
voices_.

DUKE. What new event is this?

SWANWHITE. I know! I see!--I hear the water dripping from his hair; I hear the silence of his heart, the breath that comes no more--I see that he is dead!

DUKE. Where do you see--and whom?

SWANWHITE. Where?--But I see it!

DUKE. I see nothing.

SWANWHITE. As they must come, let them come quick!

_Four little girls enter with baskets out of which they scatter
white lilies and hemlock twigs over the floor. After them come
four pages ringing silver bells of different pitch. Then comes
a priest carrying a large crucifix. Then, the golden bier, with
the body of the_ PRINCE, _covered by a white sheet, on which
rest white and pink roses. His hair is dark again. His face is
youthful, rosy, and radiantly beautiful. There is a smile on
his lips_.

_The harp begins to play. The sun rises completely. The magic
bubble around the_ STEPMOTHER _bursts, and she appears once
more in her customary shape_.

_The bier is placed in the middle of the floor, so that the
rays of the rising sun fall on it_.

SWANWHITE _throws herself on her knees beside the bier and
covers the_ PRINCE'S _face with kisses_.

_All present put their hands to their faces and weep_.

_The_ FISHERMAN _has entered behind the bier_.

DUKE. The brief tale tell us, fisherman----

FISHERMAN. Does it not tell itself, my noble lord?--The young prince had already crossed the strait, when, seized by violent longing for his love, he started to swim back, in face of tide and wave and wind--because his bark seemed rudder-less.--I saw his young head breast the billows, I heard him cry her name--and then his corpse was gently dropped upon the white sand at my feet. His hair had turned to grey that night when he slept in the tower; sorrow and wrath had blanched his cheeks; his lips had lost their power of smiling.--Now, when death o'ertook him, beauty and youth came with it. Like wreaths his darkening locks fell round his rosy cheeks; he smiled--and see!--is smiling still. The people gathered on the shore, awed by the gentle spectacle--and man said unto man: lo, this is love!

SWANWHITE. [_Lying down beside the body of the_ PRINCE] He's dead; his heart will sing no more; his eyes no longer will light up my life; his breath will shed its dew on me no more. He smiles, but not toward me--toward heaven he smiles. And on his journey I shall bear him company.

DUKE. Kiss not a dead man's lips--there's poison in them!

SWANWHITE. Sweet poison if it bring me death--that death in which I seek my life!

DUKE. They say, my child, the dead cannot gain union by willing it; and what was loved in life has little worth beyond.

SWANWHITE. And love? Should then its power not extend to the other side of death?

DUKE. Our wise men have denied it.

SWANWHITE. Then he must come to me--back to this earth. O gracious Lord, please let him out of heaven again!

DUKE. A foolish prayer!

SWANWHITE. I cannot pray--woe's me! The evil eye still rules this place.

DUKE. You're thinking of the monster which the sunbeams pricked. The stake for her--let her without delay be burned alive!

SWANWHITE. Burn her?--Alive?--Oh, no! Let her depart in peace!

DUKE. She must be burned alive! You, men, see that the pyre is raised close to the shore, and let the winds play with her ashes!

SWANWHITE. [_On her knees before the_ DUKE] No, no--I pray you, though she was my executioner: have mercy on her!

STEPMOTHER. [_Enters, changed, freed from the evil powers that have held her in their spell_] Mercy! Who spoke the sacred word? Who poured her heart in prayer for me?

SWANWHITE. I did--your daughter--mother!

STEPMOTHER. O, God in heaven, she called me mother!--Who taught you that?

SWANWHITE. Love did!

STEPMOTHER. Then blessed be love which can work miracles like that!--But, child, then it must also have the power to make the dead return out of the darkling realms of death!--I cannot do it, having not received the grace of love. But you!

SWANWHITE. Poor me--what can I do?

STEPMOTHER. You can forgive, and you can love--Well, then, my little Lady Almighty, you can do anything!--Be taught by me who have no power at all. Go, cry the name of your beloved, and put your hand above his heart! Then, with the help of the Supreme One--calling none but Him for helper--your beloved will hear your voice--if you believe!

SWANWHITE. I do believe--I will it--and--I pray for it!

_She goes up to the_ PRINCE, _places one of her hands over his heart, and raises the other toward the sky. Then she bends down over him and whispers something into his ear. This she repeats three times in succession. At the third whisper the_ PRINCE _wakes up_. SWANWHITE _throws herself at his breast. All kneel in praise and thanksgiving. Music_.

_Curtain_.

SIMOOM

(SAMUM)

1890

CHARACTERS

BISKRA, _an Arabian girl_
YUSUF, _her lover_
GUIMARD, _a lieutenant of Zouaves_

_The action takes place in Algeria at the present time_.

SIMOOM

_The inside of a marabout, or shrine. In the middle of the
floor stands a sarcophagus forming the tomb of the Mohammedan
saint (also called "marabout") who in his lifetime occupied the
place. Prayer-rugs are scattered over the floor. At the right
in the rear is an ossuary, or charnel-house._

_There is a doorway in the middle of the rear wall. It is
closed with a gate and covered by a curtain. On both sides of
the doorway are loopholes. Here and there on the floor are seen
little piles of sand. An aloe plant, a few palm leaves and some
alfa grass are thrown together on one spot_.

* * * * *

FIRST SCENE

BISKRA _enters. The hood of her burnous is pulled over her head
so that it almost covers her face. She carries a guitar at her
back. Throwing herself down in a kneeling position on one of
the rugs, she begins to pray with her arms crossed over her
breast. A high wind is blowing outside_.

BISKRA. Lâ ilâhâ illâ 'llâh!

YUSUF. [_Enters quickly_] The Simoom is coming! Where is the Frank?

BISKRA. He'll be here in a moment.

YUSUF. Why didn't you stab him when you had a chance?

BISKRA. Because he is to do it himself. If I were to do it, our whole tribe would be killed, for I am known to the Franks as Ali, the guide, though they don't know me as Biskra, the maiden.

YUSUF. He is to do it himself, you say? How is that to happen?

BISKRA. Don't you know that the Simoom makes the brains of the white people dry as dates, so that they have horrible visions which disgust them with life and cause them to flee into the great unknown?

YUSUF. I have heard of such things, and in the last battle there were six Franks who took their own lives before the fighting began. But do not place your trust in the Simoom to-day, for snow has fallen in the mountains, and the storm may be all over in half an hour.--Biskra! Do you still know how to hate?

BISKRA. If I know how to hate?--My hatred is boundless as the desert, burning as the sun, and stronger than my love. Every hour of joy that has been stolen from me since the murder of Ali has been stored up within me like the venom back of a viper's tooth, and what the Simoom cannot do, that I can do.

YUSUF. Well spoken, Biskra, and the task shall be yours. Ever since my eyes first fell upon you, my own hatred has been withering like alfa grass in the autumn. Take strength from me and become the arrow to my bow.

BISKRA. Embrace me, Yusuf, embrace me!

YUSUF. Not here, within the presence of the Sainted one; not now--later, afterward, when you have earned your reward!

BISKRA. You proud sheikh! You man of pride!

YUSUF. Yes--the maiden who is to carry my offspring under her heart must show herself worthy of the honour.

BISKRA. I--no one but I--shall bear the offspring of Yusuf! I, Biskra--the scorned one, the ugly one, but the strong one, too!

YUSUF. All right! I am now going to sleep beside the spring.--Do I need to teach you more of the secret arts which you learned from Sidi-Sheikh, the great marabout, and which you have practised at fairs ever since you were a child?

BISKRA. Of that there is no need. I know all the secrets needed to scare the life out of a cowardly Frank.--The dastard who sneaks upon the enemy and sends the leaden bullet ahead of himself! I know them all--even the art of letting my voice come out of my belly. And what is beyond my art, that will be done by the sun, for the sun is on the side of Yusuf and Biskra.

YUSUF. The sun is a friend of the Moslem, but not to be relied upon. You may get burned, girl!--Take a drink of water first of all, for I see that your hands are shrivelled, and----

_He lifts up one of the rugs and steps down into a sort of
cellar, from which he brings back a bowl filled with water;
this he hands to_ BISKRA.

BISKRA. [_Raising the bowl to her mouth_] And my eyes are already beginning to see red--my lungs are parching--I hear--I hear--do you see how the sand is sifting through the roof--the strings of my guitar are crooning--the Simoom is here! But the Frank is not!

YUSUF. Come down here, Biskra, and let the Frank die by himself.

BISKRA. First hell, and then death! Do you think I'll weaken? [_Pours the water on one of the sand piles_] I'll water the sand, so that revenge may grow out of it, and I'll dry up my heart. Grow, O hatred! Burn, O sun! Smother, O wind!

YUSUF. Hail to you, mother of Ben Yusuf--for you are to bear the son of Yusuf, the avenger--you!

_The wind is increasing. The curtain in front of the door begins to flap. A red glimmer lights up the room, but changes into yellow during the ensuing scene_.

BISKRA. The Frank is coming, and--the Simoom is here!--Go!

YUSUF. In half an hour you shall see me again. [_Pointing toward a sand pile_] There is your hour-glass. Heaven itself is measuring out the time for the hell of the infidels!

[_Goes down into the cellar_.

SECOND SCENE

BISKRA. GUIMARD _enters looking very pale; he stumbles, his
mind is confused, and he speaks in a low voice_.

GUIMARD. The Simoom is here!--What do you think has become of my men?

BISKRA. I led them west to east.

GUIMARD. West--to east!--Let me see!--That's straight east--and west!--Oh, put me on a chair and give me some water!

BISKRA. [_Leads_ GUIMARD _to one of the sand piles and makes him lie down on the floor with his feet on the sand_] Are you comfortable now?

GUIMARD. [_Staring at her_] I feel all twisted up. Put something under my head.

BISKRA. [_Piling the sand higher under his feet_] There's a pillow for your head.

GUIMARD. Head? Why, my feet are down there--Isn't that my feet?

BISKRA. Of course!

GUIMARD. I thought so. Give me a stool now--under my head.

BISKRA. [_Pulls out the aloe plant and pushes it under Guimard's legs_] There's a stool for you.

GUIMARD. And then water!--Water!

BISKRA. [_Fills the empty bowl with sand and hands it to_ GUIMARD] Drink while it's cold.

GUIMARD. [_Putting his lips to the bowl_] It is cold--and yet it does not still my thirst! I cannot drink it--I abhor water--take it away!

BISKRA. There's the dog that bit you!

GUIMARD. What dog? I have never been bitten by a dog.

BISKRA. The Simoom has shrivelled up your memory--beware the delusions of the Simoom! Don't you remember the mad greyhound that bit you during the last hunt at Bab-el-Wad?

GUIMARD. The hunt at Bab-el-Wad? That's right!--Was it a beaver-coloured----?

BISKRA. Bitch? Yes.--There you see. And she bit you in the calf. Can't you feel the sting of the wound?

GUIMARD. [_Reaches out a hand to feel his calf and pricks himself on the aloe_] Yes, I can feel it.--Water! Water!

BISKRA. [_Handing him the sand-filled bowl_] Drink, drink!

GUIMARD. No, I cannot! Holy Mother of God--I have rabies!

BISKRA. Don't be afraid! I shall cure you, and drive out the demon by the help of music, which is all-powerful. Listen!

GUIMARD. [_Screaming_] Ali! Ali! No music; I can't stand it! And how could it help me?

BISKRA. If music can tame the treacherous spirit of the snake, don't you think it may conquer that of a mad dog? Listen! [_She sings and accompanies herself on the guitar_] Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra! Simoom! Simoom!

YUSUF. [_Responding from below_] Simoom! Simoom!

GUIMARD. What is that you are singing, Ali?

BISKRA. Have I been singing? Look here--now I'll put a palm-leaf in my mouth. [_She puts a piece of leaf between her teeth; the song seems to be coming from above_] Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra!

YUSUF. [_From below_] Simoom! Simoom!

GUIMARD. What an infernal jugglery!

BISKRA. Now I'll sing!

BISKRA and YUSUF. [_Together_] Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra, Biskra-biskra! Simoom!

GUIMARD. [_Rising_] What are you, you devil who are singing with two voices? Are you man or woman? Or both?

BISKRA. I am Ali, the guide. You don't recognise me because your senses are confused. But if you want to be saved from the tricks played by sight and thought, you must believe in me--believe what I say and do what I tell you.

GUIMARD. You don't need to ask me, for I find everything to be as you say it is.

BISKRA. There you see, you worshipper of idols!

GUIMARD. I, a worshipper of idols?

BISKRA. Yes, take out the idol you carry on your breast.

GUIMARD _takes out a locket_.

BISKRA. Trample on it now, and then call on the only God, the Merciful One, the Compassionate One!

GUIMARD. [_Hesitating_] Saint Edward--my patron saint?

BISKRA. Can he protect you? Can he?

GUIMARD. No, he cannot!--[_Waking up_] Yes, he can!

BISKRA. Let us see!

_She opens the gate; the curtain flaps and the grass on the
floor moves_.

GUIMARD. [_Covering his mouth_] Close the door!

BISKRA. Throw down the idol!

GUIMARD. No, I cannot.

BISKRA. Do you see? The Simoom does not bend a hair on me, but you, the infidel one, are killed by it! Throw down the idol!

GUIMARD. [_Throws the locket on the floor_] Water! I die!

BISKRA. Pray to the Only One, the Merciful and Compassionate One!

GUIMARD. How am I to pray?

BISKRA. Repeat after me.

GUIMARD. Speak on!

BISKRA. There is only one God: there is no other God but He, the Merciful, the Compassionate One!

GUIMARD. "There is only one God: there is no other God but He, the Merciful, the Compassionate One."

BISKRA. Lie down on the floor.

GUIMARD _lies down unwillingly_.

BISKRA. What do you hear?

GUIMARD. I hear the murmuring of a spring.

BISKRA. There you see! God is one, and there is no other God but He, the Merciful and Compassionate One!--What do you see?

GUIMARD. I can hear a spring murmur--I can see the light of a lamp--in a window with green shutters--on a white street----

BISKRA. Who is sitting at the window?

GUIMARD. My wife--Elise!

BISKRA. Who is standing behind the curtain with his arm around her neck?

GUIMARD. That's my son, George.

BISKRA. How old is your son?

GUIMARD. Four years on the day of Saint Nicholas.

BISKRA. And he can already stand behind the curtain with his arm around the neck of another man's wife?

GUIMARD. No, he cannot--but it is he!

BISKRA. Four years old, you say, and he has a blond mustache?

GUIMARD. A blond mustache, you say?--Oh, that's--my friend Jules.

BISKRA. Who is standing behind the curtain with his arm around your wife's neck?

GUIMARD. Oh, you devil!

BISKRA. Do you see your son?

GUIMARD. No, I don't see him any longer.

BISKRA. [_Imitates the tolling of bells on the guitar_] What do
you see now?

GUIMARD. I see bells ringing--I taste dead bodies--their smell in my mouth is like rancid butter--faugh!

BISKRA. Can't you hear the priest chanting the service for a dead child?

GUIMARD. Wait!--I cannot hear--[_Wistfully_] But do you want me to?--There!--I can hear it!

BISKRA. Do you see the wreath on the coffin they are carrying?

GUIMARD. Yes----

BISKRA. There are violet ribbons on it--and there are letters printed in silver--"Farewell, my darling George--from your father."

GUIMARD. Yes, that's it! [_He begins to cry_] My George! O George, my darling boy!--Elise--wife--can't you console me?--Oh, help me! [_He is groping around_] Elise, where are you? Have you left me? Answer! Call out the name of your love!

A VOICE. [_Coming from the roof_] Jules! Jules!

GUIMARD. Jules! But my name is--what is my name? It is Charles! And she is calling Jules! Elise--my beloved wife--answer me--for your spirit is here--I can feel it--and you promised never to love anybody else----

_The_ VOICE _is heard laughing_.

GUIMARD. Who is laughing?

BISKRA. Elise--your wife.

GUIMARD. Oh, kill me! I don't want to live any longer! Life sickens me like sauerkraut at Saint-Doux--You there--do you know what Saint-Doux is? Lard! [_He tries to spit_] Not a drop of saliva left!--Water--water--or I'll bite you!

_The wind outside has risen to a full storm_.

BISKRA. [_Puts her hand to her mouth and coughs_] Now you are dying, Frank! Write down your last wishes while there is still time--Where is your note-book?

GUIMARD. [_Takes out a note-book and a pencil_] What am I to write?

BISKRA. When a man is to die, he thinks of his wife--and his child!

GUIMARD. [_Writes_] "Elise--I curse you! Simoom--I die----"

BISKRA. And then sign it, or it will not be valid as a testament.

GUIMARD. What shall I sign?

BISKRA. Write: Lâ ilâha illâ 'llâh.

GUIMARD. [_Writing_] It is written.--And can I die now?

BISKRA. Now you can die--like a craven soldier who has deserted his people! And I am sure you'll get a handsome burial from the jackals that will chant the funeral hymn over your corpse. [_She drums the signal for attack on the guitar_] Can you hear the drums--the attack has begun--on the Faithful, who have the sun and the Simoom on their side--they are now advancing--from their hiding-places--[_She makes a rattling noise on the guitar_] The Franks are firing along the whole line--they have no chance to load again--the Arabs are firing at their leisure--the Franks are flying!

GUIMARD. [_Rising_] The Franks never flee!

BISKRA. The Franks will flee when they hear the call to retreat.

[_She blows the signal for "retreat" on a flute which she has
produced from under her burnoose_.

GUIMARD. They are retreating--that's the signal--and I am here--[_He tears off his epaulets_] I am dead!

[_He falls to the ground_.

BISKRA. Yes, you are dead!--And you don't know that you have been dead a long time.

[_She goes to the ossuary and takes from it a human skull_.

GUIMARD. Have I been dead?

[_He feels his face with his hands_.

BISKRA. Long! Long!--Look at yourself in the mirror here! [_She holds up the skull before him_.

GUIMARD. Ah! That's me!

BISKRA. Can't you see your own high cheek-bones? Can't you see the eyes that the vultures have picked out? Don't you know that gap on the right side of the jaw where you had a tooth pulled? Can't you see the hollow in the chin where, grew the beard that your Elise was fond of stroking? Can't you see where used to be the ear that your George kissed at the breakfast-table? Can't you see the mark of the axe--here in the neck--which the executioner made when he cut off the deserter's head----

GUIMARD, _who has been watching her movements and listening to
her words with evident horror, sinks down dead_.

BISKRA. [_Who has been kneeling, feels his pulse; then she rises and sings_] Simoom! Simoom! [_She opens both gates; the curtain flutters like a banner in the wind; she puts her hand up to her mouth and falls over backward, crying_] Yusuf!

THIRD SCENE

BISKRA. GUIMARD (_dead_). YUSUF _comes out of the cellar_.

YUSUF. [_Having examined the body of_ GUIMARD, _he looks for_ BISKRA] Biskra! [_He discovers her and takes her up in his arms_] Are you alive?

BISKRA. Is the Frank dead?

YUSUF. If he is not, he will be. Simoom! Simoom!

BISKRA. Then I live! But give me some water!

YUSUF. [_Carrying her toward the cellar_] Here it is!--And now Yusuf is yours!

BISKRA. And Biskra will be your son's mother, O Yusuf, great Yusuf!

YUSUF. My strong Biskra! Stronger than the Simoom!

_Curtain_.

DEBIT AND CREDIT

(DEBET OCH KREDIT)

AN ACT

1893

CHARACTERS

AXEL, _Doctor of Philosophy and African explorer_
THURE, _his brother, a gardener_
ANNA, _the wife of_ THURE
MISS CECILIA
THE FIANCÉ _of_ CECILIA
LINDGREN, _Doctor of Philosophy and former school-teacher_
MISS MARIE
THE COURT CHAMBERLAIN
THE WAITER

DEBIT AND CREDIT

_A well-furnished hotel room. There are doors on both sides_.

FIRST SCENE

THURE _and his_ WIFE.

THURE. There's some style to this room, isn't there? But then the fellow who lives here is stylish, too.

WIFE. Yes, so I understand. Of course, I've never seen your brother, but I've heard a whole lot.

THURE. Oh, gossip! _My_ brother, the doctor, has gone right across Africa, and that's something everybody can't do. So it doesn't matter how many drinks he took as a young chap----

WIFE. Yes, your brother, the doctor! Who is nothing but a school-teacher, for that matter----

THURE. No, he's a doctor of philosophy, I tell you----

WIFE. Well, that's nothing but one who teaches. And that's just what my brother is doing in the school at Åby.

THURE. Your brother is all right, but he is nothing but a public-school teacher, and that's not the same as a doctor of philosophy--which isn't a boast either.

WIFE. Well, no matter what he is or what you call him, he has cost us a whole lot.

THURE. Of course it has been rather costly, but then he has brought us a lot of pleasure, too.