INGOLF. I promise. [Puts the ring on his hand.]

HADDA PADDA [watches him as he puts it on].

CURTAIN

ACT III

(Slope of a valley overgrown with brush and heather and flowers. Toward the rear on the left, a beautiful cataract rushes down from a great height between steep cliffs. On the right, a rock shuts out the bottom of the falls, and part of the river. In the background is a mountainous landscape. It is an exquisite summer evening and the sun is playing on the water in ever changing colours. The stage is empty. From beneath the falls a song is heard, even before the rise of the curtain.)

(A little before the song ends, Hadda Padda enters from the left, accompanied by the children. She wears a light summer dress with a chiffon scarf thrown over her shoulders. The children have come prepared to gather berries. One has a wooden box, one a coloured gla.s.s bottle half filled with berries, etc. They stop to listen until the song is finished.)

MAGGA. Who was singing?

HADDA PADDA. The summer guests down at the falls.--Well, children, hurry now and gather your berries. We'll be going home soon. [Pointing to the right.] See that hollow? There must be lots of berries in there. [Sits down on a stone.]

SIGGA. Aren't you coming along with us, Hadda Padda?

HADDA PADDA. No, you bring your berries back to me.

SIGGA [turning the bottle over in her palm]. Do you want some?

HADDA PADDA [staying her off]. No, no--not now.

DODDI. Oh, Hadda! I'll gather the bluest berries for you.

LITTLE SKULI. When _I_ come back I'll bring you berries and flowers too.

MAGGA. You won't wait for us, Hadda Padda.

HADDA PADDA [_nodding a.s.sent--hand under cheek_]. No--no.

ALL THE CHILDREN. Aren't you going to wait for us?

HADDA PADDA [_with a start, recovering herself_]. Wait for you, yes--yes, of course--do you think I would run away from you? I will wait here till you come back. [_The children go off to the right. Hadda remains seated for a moment, rises absent-mindedly, walks to and fro thoughtfully, sometimes stumbling. Then she sits down again, hiding her face in her hands._]

AN HERBORIST [_enters from the right. On her shoulder she is carrying a canvas bag, half filled with herbs. She wears a knitted shawl and a parti-colored kerchief on her head. In her hand, she holds a large knife in a leather sheath_]. Good evening, young lady!

HADDA PADDA [_startled_]. Good evening, Arngerd!

HERBORIST [_putting the bag aside_]. I seemed to recognise one of the sisters. It is you they call Hadda Padda.

HADDA PADDA. I came berrying with the children.

HERBORIST. I saw them down in the hollow.--It is lucky to visit the falls to-night.--I heard the song.--What a beautiful day! [_Sits down_]--Just look at the evening glow on that rock! [_Smiles._] Its furrows seem like ruddy smiling lips!

HADDA PADDA [_looking up_]. Like bleeding wounds.

HERBORIST. Is the young lady in low spirits?

HADDA PADDA [_keeps silent_].

HERBORIST [_looking at the slope_]. What a host of blessed flowers! I'll soon get my bag filled here. There are some of the right kind among them I'm sure.

HADDA PADDA. That is a pretty bag you have.

HERBORIST. I thought it an insult to the flowers to put them in a coa.r.s.e sack, so I took my pillow case.

HADDA PADDA. Are there only flowers in it?

HERBORIST. They are healing plants.

HADDA PADDA. That's true. You heal with herbs.... You believe in their power?

HERBORIST. I believe in a fact that cannot be doubted. And I am quite sure that there is no disease that could not be healed by herbs, if people knew enough about their mysteries.

HADDA PADDA. There are wounds, I suppose, that only death can heal.

HERBORIST [looking down into the bag, she takes out an herb]. I think the young lady is very depressed, Shall I show her an herb that can heal many ills?

HADDA PADDA. A lady-slipper?

HERBORIST. It is also called the love flower.... If you would gain a man's heart you slip it under his pillow.

HADDA PADDA. Don't you see the ring on my finger? Don't you know my sweetheart?

HERBORIST. Yes, certainly.--He was a handsome boy. [Plays with the bag, as she hums.]:

"When love is the strongest, it leads to your fall, A maid's happy longest, who heeds no man's call."

HADDA PADDA [drawing her scarf more closely around her]. Do you hear the flies buzzing?

HERBORIST [looking deep down into the bag]. Yes.

HADDA PADDA. It is like the sound of a burning wick.

HERBORIST [does not hear].

HADDA PADDA. Now there is only one left.--It is buzzing around my bead.

[Putting her hand on the arm of the herborist.] Say something to me, good healer.

HERBORIST. Pretty are her hands! Were they chapped or sore I would heal them with yarrow ointment. [Taking up a yarrow.]

HADDA PADDA. Can that be done?

HERBORIST. Oh, yes, with finely cut yarrow, boiled in fresh new b.u.t.ter.