When We Dead Awaken by Archer, William, 1856-1924, Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906

MAIA.

But why, pray? Perhaps because I'm not desperately in love with mooning about up here---?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Which of us was it that was absolutely bent on our coming north this summer?

MAIA.

I admit, it was I.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

It was certainly not I, at any rate.

MAIA.

But good heavens, who could have dreamt that everything would have altered so terribly at home here? And in so short a time, too! Why, it is only just four years since I went away---

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Since you were married, yes.

MAIA.

Married? What has that to do with the matter?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Continuing.] --since you became the Frau Professor, and found yourself mistress of a charming home--I beg your pardon--a very handsome house, I ought to say. And a villa on the Lake of Taunitz, just at the point that has become most fashionable, too--. In fact it is all very handsome and distinguished, Maia, there's no denying that. And spacious too. We need not always be getting in each other's way---

MAIA.

[Lightly.] No, no, no--there's certainly no lack of house-room, and that sort of thing---

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Remember, too, that you have been living in altogether more spacious and distinguished surroundings--in more polished society than you were accustomed to at home.

MAIA.

[Looking at him.] Ah, so you think it is _I_ that have changed?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Indeed I do, Maia.

MAIA.

I alone? Not the people here?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Oh yes, they too--a little, perhaps. And not at all in the direction of amiability. That I readily admit.

MAIA.

I should think you must admit it, indeed.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Changing the subject.] Do you know how it affects me when I look at the life of the people around us here?

MAIA.

No. Tell me.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

It makes me think of that night we spent in the train, when we were coming up here---

MAIA.

Why, you were sound asleep all the time.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Not quite. I noticed how silent it became at all the little roadside stations. I heard the silence--like you, Maia---

MAIA.

H'm,--like me, yes.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

--and that assured me that we had crossed the frontier--that we were really at home. For the train stopped at all the little stations-- although there was nothing doing at all.

MAIA.

Then why did it stop--though there was nothing to be done?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Can't say. No one got out or in; but all the same the train stopped a long, endless time. And at every station I could make out that there were two railway men walking up and down the platform--one with a lantern in his hand--and they said things to each other in the night, low, and toneless, and meaningless.

MAIA.

Yes, that is quite true. There are always two men walking up and down, and talking---

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

--of nothing. [Changing to a livelier tone.] But just wait till to- morrow. Then we shall have the great luxurious steamer lying in the harbour. We'll go on board her, and sail all round the coast-- northward ho!--right to the polar sea.

MAIA.

Yes, but then you will see nothing of the country--and of the people. And that was what you particularly wanted.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Shortly and snappishly.] I have seen more than enough.

MAIA.

Do you think a sea voyage will be better for you?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

It is always a change.

MAIA.