SCENE VI.
Reading edition
Night—the interior of Olaf’s house—Teresa alone—a bright fire burns on the hearth—refreshments are set out, and clothes hanging by the fire for Olaf and Paolo.
Teresa. How late it is! an hour beyond the midnight! And bitter cold it is! The icy wind Even pierces through these walls! Poor little Paolo, How weary and half-frozen he will be: But he shall sit upon the bench beside me, And I will hold his hands, and lay his head Upon my knee; it is his dear indulgence— Poor child, and he shall have it all to-night!
[She puts fresh logs on the fire.
And this is the third time I have renewed The wasting fire! and when I piled at first, “My Paolo will be here,” I said, “before These logs shall have burned through!” but, now alas, I know not what to say, saving the wonder That he comes not, and even this is grown A kind of vague despair, that seems to threaten He will not come at all! Oh, if aught happen Save good unto the child, like poor old Jacob, Then should I be bereaved!
Enter HULDA, with a very dejected countenance; she takes down PAOLO’S clothes, and folds them up.
Ter. Nay, how is this? Huld. He will not need them more? Ter. Woman, what say’st thou? Huld. Two hunters from the icebergs are come down— Ere long thy husband comes. Ter. And not my boy? Hulda. [laying the clothes together.] He will not need these more! Ter. Then he is dead! Huld. Alas, dear lady, yes! Ter. Peace, woman! peace! The earth were less forlorn without the sun, Than I without my boy! He is not dead! Huld. Would God he were not! Ter. Do not say he is! It is like blasphemy to say he’s dead. Heaven would not strip me so—O do not say it! Where are these men? I’ll forth and meet my boy! Huld. [stopping her.] He is not on the road! No, never more Will he repass this threshold! Ter. ’Tis a dream! Huld. Dear lady, no!—too plainly tell the hunters All that has happened! Ter. And, pr’ythee, what has happened? Huld. A quarrel ’twixt the hunter and our master, Who now comes wounded home. Ter. And what of Paolo? Huld. Oh heavy, heavy news!—The child is missing! Ter. Nay, then he is not dead!—Oh no, not dead! I told thee heaven would not so deal with me! My precious boy will come back on the morrow,— Hunters are often lost for many days. These men shall seek for him among the wilds— I, too, will go myself. Where are the men!
Enter the HUNTER, hastily.
Hunt. Dear lady, woe is me! Huld. Away, away! Ter. Where is my boy? Hunt. Oh wretched, wretched mother! Ter. Torture me not, but tell me where he is? Hunt. Lady, forgive me for the news I bring! Ter. Then he is dead? Hunt. Most terrible recital! Lady, thy husband, to preserve himself, Hath given thy little Paolo to the wolves! Ter. [with a scream of horror.] Oh no, no, no! Hunt. He stopped their maws With thy poor Paolo’s blood! Ter. He did not so! Hunt. Poor little one, how he did cry for thee! Huld. Peace! can’st not hold thy peace. Oh hear it not! Lady, he is but missing. Hunt. Poor weak thing! How he did cling to me, and pray that I Would save him from his father!
[Teresa clasps her hands, and stands in speechless agony.
I might have snatched a pretty lock of hair; I wish I had—a pretty curling lock! Ter. [falling on her knees.] God, of thy mercy strengthen, strengthen me! Enable me to bear what is thy will!
[She falls insensible to the floor.
Huld. Wretch, why didst tell it her so cruelly— Besides, the iceberg hunters say not so. Thou’st killed her by thy tidings! Hunt. Hark, he comes! I hear her husband’s voice! Huld. She must not see him!
[She bears Teresa out.
Hunt. I must off! I’ll not again meet Olaf; He’s not the facile fool that once he was: But there’s that damning deed laid to his charge, Will make Teresa curse both him and heaven!
[He goes out.