Peer
Gynt
By
Henrik
Ibsen
Translated
by William and Charles Archer
CONTENTS:
ÅSE, a peasant’s widow.
PEER GYNT, her son.
TWO OLD WOMEN with corn–sacks. ASLAK, a smith. WEDDING–GUESTS. A MASTER–COOK, A FIDDLER, etc.
A MAN AND WIFE, newcomers to the district.
SOLVEIG and LITTLE HELGA, their daughters.
THE FARMER AT HEGSTAD.
INGRID, his daughter.
THE BRIDEGROOM and His PARENTS.
THREE SAETER–GIRLS. A GREEN–CLAD WOMAN.
THE OLD MAN OF THE DOVRE.
A TROLL–COURTIER. SEVERAL OTHERS. TROLL–MAIDENS and TROLL–URCHINS. A COUPLE OF WITCHES. BROWNIES, NIXIES, GNOMES, etc.
AN UGLY BRAT. A VOICE IN THE DARKNESS. BIRD–CRIES.
KARI, a cottar’s wife.
Master COTTON, Monsieur BALLON, Herren VON EBERKOPF and TRUMPETERSTRALE, gentlemen on their travels. A THIEF and A RECEIVER.
ANITRA, daughter of a Bedouin chief.
ARABS, FEMALE SLAVES, DANCING–GIRLS, etc.
THE MEMNON–STATUE (singing). THE SPHINX AT GIZEH (muta persona).
PROFESSOR BEGRIFFENFELDT, Dr. Phil., director of the
madhouse at
HUHU, a language–reformer from the coast
of
SEVERAL MADMEN, with their KEEPERS.
A NORWEGIAN SKIPPER and HIS CREW. A STRANGE PASSENGER.
A PASTOR. A FUNERAL–PARTY. A PARISH–OFFICER. A BUTTON–MOULDER. A LEAN PERSON.
[The action, which opens in the beginning of the nineteenth century, and ends around the 1860’s, takes place partly in Gudbrandsdalen, and on the mountains around it, partly on the coast of Morocco, in the desert of Sahara, in a madhouse at Cairo, at sea, etc.]
SCENE FIRST
[A wooded hillside near ÅSE’s farm. A river rushes down the slope. On the further side of it an old mill shed. It is a hot day in summer.]
[PEER GYNT, a strongly–built youth of twenty, comes down the pathway. His mother, ÅSE, a small, slightly built woman, follows him, scolding angrily.]
ÅSE
Peer, you’re lying!
PEER [without stopping]
No, I am not!
ÅSE
Well then, swear that it is true!
PEER
Swear? Why should I?
ÅSE
See, you dare not! It’s a lie from first to last.
PEER [stopping]
It is true—each blessed word!
ÅSE [confronting him]
Don’t you blush before your mother? First you skulk among the mountains monthlong in the busiest season, stalking reindeer in the snows; home you come then, torn and tattered, gun amissing, likewise game;— and at last, with open eyes, think to get me to believe all the wildest hunters’–lies!— Well, where did you find the buck, then?
PEER
West near Gendin.
ÅSE [laughing scornfully]
Ah! Indeed!
PEER
Keen the blast towards me swept; hidden by an alder–clump, he was scraping in the snow–crust after lichen—
ÅSE [as before]
Doubtless, yes!
PEER
Breathlessly I stood and listened, heard the crunching of his hoof, saw the branches of one antler. Softly then among the boulders I crept forward on my belly. Crouched in the moraine I peered up;— such a buck, so sleek and fat, you, I’m sure, have ne’er set eyes on.
ÅSE
No, of course not!
PEER
Bang! I fired! Clean he dropped upon the hillside. But the instant that he fell I sat firm astride his back, gripped him by the left ear tightly, and had almost sunk my knife–blade in his neck, behind his skull— when, behold! the brute screamed wildly, sprang upon his feet like lightning, with a back–cast of his head from my fist made knife and sheath fly, pinned me tightly by the thigh, jammed his horns against my legs, clenched me like a pair of tongs;— then forthwith away he flew right along the Gendin–Edge!
ÅSE [involuntarily]
Jesus save us—!
PEER
Have you ever chanced to see the Gendin–Edge? Nigh on four miles long it stretches sharp before you like a scythe. Down o’er glaciers, landslips, scaurs, down the toppling grey moraines, you can see, both right and left, straight into the tarns that slumber, black and sluggish, more than seven hundred fathoms deep below you. Right along the Edge we two clove our passage through the air. Never rode I such a colt! Straight before us as we rushed ’twas as though there glittered suns. Brown–backed eagles that were sailing in the wide and dizzy void half–way ’twixt us and the tarns, dropped behind, like motes in air. Ice–floes on the shores broke crashing, but no murmur reached my ears. Only sprites of dizziness sprang, dancing, round;—they sang, they swung, circle–wise, past sight and hearing!
ÅSE [dizzy]
Oh, God save me!
PEER
All at once, at a desperate, break–neck spot, rose a great cock–ptarmigan, flapping, cackling, terrified, from the crack where he lay hidden at the buck’s feet on the Edge. Then the buck shied half around, leapt sky–high, and down we plunged both of us into the depths!
[ÅSE totters, and catches at the trunk of a tree. PEER GYNT continues:]
Mountain walls behind us, black, and below a void unfathomed! First we clove through banks of mist, then we clove a flock of sea–gulls, so that they, in mid–air startled, flew in all directions, screaming. Downward rushed we, ever downward. But beneath us something shimmered, whitish, like a reindeer’s belly.— Mother, ’twas our own reflection in the glass–smooth mountain tarn, shooting up towards the surface with the same wild rush of speed wherewith we were shooting downwards.
ÅSE [gasping for breath]
Peer! God help me—! Quickly, tell—!
PEER
Buck from over, buck from under, in a moment clashed together, scattering foam–flecks all around. There we lay then, floating, plashing,— But at last we made our way somehow to the northern shore; buck, he swam, I clung behind him:— I ran homewards—
ÅSE
But the buck, dear?
PEER
He’s there still, for aught I know;—
[Snaps his fingers, turns on his heel, and adds:]
catch him, and you’re welcome to him!
ÅSE
And your neck you haven’t broken? Haven’t broken both your thighs? and your backbone, too, is whole? Oh, dear Lord—what thanks, what praise, should be thine who helped my boy! There’s a rent, though, in your breeches; but it’s scarce worth talking of when one thinks what dreadful things might have come of such a leap—!
[Stops suddenly, looks at him open–mouthed and wide–eyed; cannot find words for some time, but at last bursts out:]
Oh, you devil’s story–teller, Cross of Christ, how you can lie! All this screed you foist upon me, I remember now, I knew it when I was a girl of twenty. Gudbrand Glesne it befell, never you, you—
PEER
Me as well. Such a thing can happen twice.
ÅSE [exasperated]
Yes, a lie, turned topsy–turvy, can be prinked and tinselled out, decked in plumage new and fine, till none knows its lean old carcass. That is just what you’ve been doing, vamping up things, wild and grand, garnishing with eagles’ backs and with all the other horrors, lying right and lying left, filling me with speechless dread, till at last I recognised not what of old I’d heard and known!
PEER
If another talked like that I’d half kill him for his pains.
ÅSE [weeping]
Oh, would God I lay a corpse; would the black earth held me sleeping! Prayers and tears don’t bite upon him.— Peer, you’re lost, and ever will be!
PEER
Darling, pretty little mother, you are right in every word;— don’t be cross, be happy—
ÅSE
Silence! Could I, if I would, be happy, with a pig like you for son? Think how bitter I must find it, I, a poor defenceless widow, ever to be put to shame!
[Weeping again.]
How much have we now remaining from your grandsire’s days of glory? Where are now the sacks of coin left behind by Rasmus Gynt? Ah, your father lent them wings,— lavished them abroad like sand, buying land in every parish, driving round in gilded chariots. Where is all the wealth he wasted at the famous winter–banquet, when each guest sent glass and bottle shivering ’gainst the wall behind him?
PEER
Where’s the snow of yester–year?
ÅSE
Silence, boy, before your mother! See the farmhouse! Every second window–pane is stopped with clouts. Hedges, fences, all are down, beasts exposed to wind and weather, fields and meadows lying fallow, every month a new distraint—
PEER
Come now, stop this old–wife’s talk! Many a time has luck seemed dropping, and sprung up as high as ever!
ÅSE
Salt–strewn is the soil it grew from. Lord, but you’re a rare one, you,— just as pert and jaunty still, just as bold as when the pastor, newly come from Copenhagen, bade you tell your Christian name, and declared that such a headpiece many a prince down there might envy; till the cob your father gave him, with a sledge to boot, in thanks for his pleasant, friendly talk.— Ah, but things went bravely then! Provost, captain, all the rest, dropped in daily, ate and drank, swilling, till they well–nigh burst. But ’tis need that tests one’s neighbour. Still it grew and empty here from the day that “Gold–bag Jon” started with his pack, a pedlar.
[Dries her eyes with her apron.]
Ah, you’re big and strong enough, you should be a staff and pillar for your mother’s frail old age,— you should keep the farm–work going, guard the remnants of your gear;—
[Crying again.]
oh, God help me, small’s the profit you have been to me, you scamp! Lounging by the hearth at home, grubbing in the charcoal embers; or, round all the country, frightening girls away from merry–makings— shaming me in all directions, fighting with the worst rapscallions—
PEER [turning away from her]
Let me be.
ÅSE [following him]
Can you deny that you were the foremost brawler in the mighty battle royal fought the other day at Lunde, when you raged like mongrels mad? Who was it but you that broke Blacksmith Aslak’s arm for him,— or at any rate that wrenched one of his fingers out of joint?
PEER
Who has filled you with such prate?
ÅSE [hotly]
Cottar Kari heard the yells!
PEER [rubbing his elbow]
Maybe, but ’twas I that howled.
ÅSE
You?
PEER
Yes, mother,—I got beaten.
ÅSE
What d’you say?
PEER
He’s limber, he is.
ÅSE
Who?
PEER
Why Aslak, to be sure.
ÅSE
Shame—and shame; I spit upon you! Such a worthless sot as that, such a brawler, such a sodden dram–sponge to have beaten you!
[Weeping again.]
Many a shame and slight I’ve suffered; but that this should come to pass is the worst disgrace of all. What if he be ne’er so limber, need you therefore be a weakling?
PEER
Though I hammer or am hammered,— still we must have lamentations.
[Laughing.]
Cheer up, mother—
ÅSE
What? You’re lying now again?
PEER
Yes, just this once. Come now, wipe your tears away;—
[Clenching his left hand.]
see,—with this same pair of tongs, thus I held the smith bent double, while my sledge–hammer right fist—
ÅSE
Oh, you brawler! You will bring me with your doings to the grave!
PEER
No, you’re worth a better fate; better twenty thousand times! Little, ugly, dear old mother, you may safely trust my word,— all the parish shall exalt you; only wait till I have done something—something really grand!
ÅSE [contemptuously]
You!
PEER
Who knows what may befall one!
ÅSE
Would you’d get so far in sense one day as to do the darning of your breeches for yourself!
PEER [hotly]
I will be a king, a kaiser!
ÅSE
Oh, God comfort me, he’s losing all the wits that he had left!
PEER
Yes, I will! just give me time!
ÅSE
Give you time, you’ll be a prince, so the saying goes, I think!
PEER
You shall see!
ÅSE
Oh, hold your tongue! You’re as mad as mad can be.— Ah, and yet it’s true enough,— something might have come of you, had you not been steeped for ever in your lies and trash and moonshine. Hegstad’s girl was fond of you. Easily you could have won her had you wooed her with a will—
PEER
Could I?
ÅSE
The old man’s too feeble not to give his child her way. He is stiff–necked in a fashion but at last ’tis Ingrid rules; and where she leads, step by step, stumps the gaffer, grumbling, after.
[Begins to cry again.]
Ah, my Peer!—a golden girl— land entailed on her! just think, had you set your mind upon it, you’d be now a bridegroom brave,— you that stand here grimed and tattered!
PEER [briskly]
Come, we’ll go a–wooing, then!
ÅSE
Where?
PEER
At Hegstad!
ÅSE
Ah, poor boy; Hegstad way is barred to wooers!
PEER
How is that?
ÅSE
Ah, I must sigh! Lost the moment, lost the luck—
PEER
Speak!
ÅSE [sobbing]
While in the Wester–hills you in air were riding reindeer, here Mads Moen’s won the girl!
PEER
What! That women’s–bugbear! He—!
ÅSE
Ay, she’s taking him for husband.
PEER
Wait you here till I have harnessed horse and waggon—
[Going.]
ÅSE
Spare your pains. They are to be wed to–morrow—
PEER
Pooh; this evening I’ll be there!
ÅSE
Fie now! Would you crown our miseries with a load of all men’s scorn?
PEER
Never fear; ’twill all go well.
[Shouting and laughing at the same time.]
Mother, jump! We’ll spare the waggon; ’twould take time to fetch the mare up—
[Lifts her up in his arms.]
ÅSE
Put me down!
PEER
No, in my arms I will bear you to the wedding!
[Wades out into the stream.]
ÅSE
Help! The Lord have mercy on us! Peer! We’re drowning—
PEER
I was born for a braver death—
ÅSE
Ay, true; sure enough you’ll hang at last!
[Tugging at his hair.]
Oh, you brute!
PEER
Keep quiet now; here the bottom’s slippery–slimy.
ÅSE
Ass!
PEER
That’s right, don’t spare your tongue; that does no one any harm. Now it’s shelving up again—
ÅSE
Don’t you drop me!
PEER
Heisan! Hop! Now we’ll play at Peer and reindeer;—
[Curvetting.]
I’m the reindeer, you are Peer!
ÅSE
Oh, I’m going clean distraught!
PEER
There see; now we’ve reached the shallows;—
[Wades ashore.]
come, a kiss now, for the reindeer; just to thank him for the ride—
ÅSE [boxing his ears]
This is how I thank him!
PEER
Ow! That’s a miserable fare!
ÅSE
Put me down!
PEER
First to the wedding. Be my spokesman. You’re so clever; talk to him, the old curmudgeon; say Mads Moen’s good for nothing—
ÅSE
Put me down!
PEER
And tell him then what a rare lad is Peer Gynt.
ÅSE
Truly, you may swear to that! Fine’s the character I’ll give you. Through and through I’ll show you up; all about your devil’s pranks I will tell them straight and plain—
PEER
Will you?
ÅSE [kicking with rage]
I won’t stay my tongue till the old man sets his dog at you, as you were a tramp!
PEER
Hm; then I must go alone.
ÅSE
Ay, but I’ll come after you!
PEER
Mother dear, you haven’t strength—
ÅSE
Strength? When I’m in such a rage, I could crush the rocks to powder! Hu! I’d make a meal of flints! Put me down!
PEER
You’ll promise then—
ÅSE
Nothing! I’ll to Hegstad with you! They shall know you, what you are!
PEER
Then you’ll even have to stay here.
ÅSE
Never! To the feast I’m coming!
PEER
That you shan’t.
ÅSE
What will you do?
PEER
Perch you on the mill–house roof.
[He puts her up on the roof. ÅSE screams.]
ÅSE
Lift me down!
PEER
Yes, if you’ll listen—
ÅSE
Rubbish!
PEER
Dearest mother, pray—!
ÅSE [throwing a sod of grass at him]
Lift me down this moment, Peer!
PEER
If I dared, be sure I would.
[Coming nearer.]
Now remember, sit quite still. Do not sprawl and kick about; do not tug and tear the shingles,— else ’twill be the worse for you; you might topple down.
ÅSE
You beast!
PEER
Do not kick!
ÅSE
I’d have you blown, like a changeling, into space!
PEER
Mother, fie!
ÅSE
Bah!
PEER
Rather give your blessing on my undertaking. Will you? Eh?
ÅSE
I’ll thrash you soundly, hulking fellow though you be!
PEER
Well, good–bye then, mother dear! Patience; I’ll be back ere long.
[Is going, but turns, holds up his finger warningly, and says:]
Careful now, don’t kick and sprawl!
[Goes.]
ÅSE
Peer!—God help me, now he’s off; Reindeer–rider! Liar! Hei! Will you listen!—No, he’s striding o’er the meadow—! [Shrieks.] Help! I’m dizzy!
[TWO OLD WOMEN, with sacks on their backs, come down the path to the mill.]
FIRST WOMAN
Christ, who’s screaming?
ÅSE
It is I!
SECOND WOMAN
Åse! Well, you are exalted!
ÅSE
This won’t be the end of it;— soon, God help me, I’ll be heaven–high!
FIRST WOMAN
Bless your passing!
ÅSE
Fetch a ladder; I must be down! That devil Peer—
SECOND WOMAN
Peer! Your son?
ÅSE
Now you can say you have seen how he behaves.
FIRST WOMAN
We’ll bear witness.
ÅSE
Only help me; straight to Hegstad I will hasten—
SECOND WOMAN
Is he there?
FIRST WOMAN
You’ll be revenged, then; Aslak Smith will be there too.
ÅSE [wringing her hands]
Oh, God help me with my boy; they will kill him ere they’re done!
FIRST WOMAN
Oh, that lot has oft been talked of; comfort you: what must be must be!
SECOND WOMAN
She is utterly demented.
[Calls up the hill.]
Eivind, Anders! Hei! Come here!
A MAN’S VOICE
What’s amiss?
SECOND WOMAN
Peer Gynt has perched his mother on the mill–house roof!
SCENE
SECOND
[A hillock, covered with bushes and heather. The highroad runs behind it; a fence between.]
[PEER GYNT comes along a footpath, goes quickly up to the fence, stops, and looks out over the stretch of country below.]
PEER
There it lies, Hegstad. Soon I’ll have reached it.
[Puts one leg over the fence; then hesitates.]
Wonder if Ingrid’s alone in the house now?
[Shades his eyes with his hand, and looks out.]
No; to the farm guests are swarming like gnats.— Hm, to turn back now perhaps would be wisest.
[Draws back his leg.]
Still they must titter behind your back, and whisper so that it burns right through you.
[Moves a few steps away from the fence, and begins absently plucking leaves.]
Ah, if I’d only a good strong dram now. Or if I could pass to and fro unseen.— Or were I unknown.—Something proper and strong were the best thing of all, for the laughter don’t bite then.
[Looks around suddenly as though afraid; then hides among the bushes. Some WEDDING–GUESTS pass by, going downwards towards the farm.]
A MAN [in conversation as they pass]
His father was drunken, his mother is weak.
A WOMAN
Ay, then it’s no wonder the lad’s good for nought.
[They pass on. Presently PEER GYNT comes forward, his face flushed with shame. He peers after them.]
PEER [softly]
Was it me they were talking of?
[With a forced shrug.]
Oh, let them chatter! After all, they can’t sneer the life out of my body.
[Casts himself down upon the heathery slope; lies for some time flat on his back with his hands under his head, gazing up into the sky.]
What a strange sort of cloud! It is just like a horse. There’s a man on it too—and saddle—and bridle.— And after it comes an old crone on a broomstick.
[Laughs quietly to himself.]
It is mother. She’s scolding and screaming: You beast! Hei you, Peer Gynt—[His eyes gradually close.] Ay, now she is frightened.— Peer Gynt he rides first, and there follow him many.— His steed it is gold–shod and crested with silver. Himself he has gauntlets and sabre and scabbard. His cloak it is long, and its lining is silken. Full brave is the company riding behind him. None of them, though, sits his charger so stoutly. None of them glitters like him in the sunshine.— Down by the fence stand the people in clusters, lifting their hats, and agape gazing upwards. Women are curtseying. All the world knows him, Kaiser Peer Gynt, and his thousands of henchmen. Sixpenny pieces and glittering shillings over the roadway he scatters like pebbles. Rich as a lord grows each man in the parish. High o’er the ocean Peer Gynt goes a–riding. Engelland’s Prince on the seashore awaits him; there too await him all Engelland’s maidens. Engelland’s nobles and Engelland’s Kaiser, see him come riding and rise from their banquet. Raising his crown, hear the Kaiser address him—
ASLAK THE SMITH [to some other young men, passing along the road]
Just look at Peer Gynt there, the drunken swine—!
PEER [starting half up]
What, Kaiser—!
THE SMITH [leaning against the fence and grinning]
Up with you, Peer, my lad!
PEER
What the devil? The smith? What do you want here?
THE SMITH [to the others]
He hasn’t got over the Lunde–spree yet.
PEER [jumping up]
You’d better be off!
THE SMITH
I am going, yes. But tell us, where have you dropped from, man? You’ve been gone six weeks. Were you troll–taken, eh?
PEER
I have been doing strange deeds, Aslak Smith!
THE SMITH [winking to the others]
Let us hear them, Peer!
PEER
They are nought to you.
THE SMITH [after a pause]
You’re going to Hegstad?
PEER
No.
THE SMITH
Time was they said that the girl there was fond of you.
PEER
You grimy crow—!
THE SMITH [falling back a little]
Keep your temper, Peer! Though Ingrid has jilted you, others are left;— think—son of Jon Gynt! Come on to the feast; you’ll find there both lambkins and widows well on—
PEER
To hell—!
THE SMITH
You will surely find one that will have you.— Good evening! I’ll give your respects to the bride.—
[They go off, laughing and whispering.]
PEER [looks after them a while, then makes a defiant motion and turns half round]
For my part, may Ingrid of Hegstad go marry whoever she pleases. It’s all one to me.
[Looks down at his clothes.]
My breeches are torn. I am ragged and grim.— If only I had something new to put on now.
[Stamps on the ground.]
If only I could, with a butcher–grip, tear out the scorn from their very vitals!
[Looks round suddenly.]
What was that? Who was it that tittered behind there? Hm, I certainly thought—No no, it was no one.— I’ll go home to mother.
[Begins to go upwards, but stops again and listens towards Hegstad.]
They’re playing a dance!
[Gazes and listens; moves downwards step by step, his eyes glisten; he rubs his hands down his thighs.]
How the lasses do swarm! Six or eight to a man! Oh, galloping death,—I must join in the frolic!— But how about mother, perched up on the mill–house—
[His eyes are drawn downwards again; he leaps and laughs.]
Hei, how the Halling flies over the green! Ay, Guttorm, he can make his fiddle speak out! It gurgles and booms like a foss o’er a scaur. And then all that glittering bevy of girls!— Yes, galloping death, I must join in the frolic!
[Leaps over the fence and goes down the road.]
SCENE
THIRD
[The farm–place at Hegstad. In the background, the dwelling–house. A THRONG OF GUESTS. A lively dance in progress on the green. THE FIDDLER sits on a table. THE MASTER–COOK is standing in the doorway. COOKMAIDS are going to and fro between the different buildings Groups of ELDERLY PEOPLE sit here and there, talking.]
A WOMAN [joins a group that is seated on some logs of wood]
The bride? Oh yes, she is crying a bit; but that, you know, isn’t worth heeding.
THE MASTER–COOK [in another group]
Now then, good folk, you must empty the barrel.
A MAN
Thanks to you, friend; but you fill up too quick.
A LAD [to the FIDDLER as he flies past, holding A GIRL by the hand]
To it now, Guttorm, and don’t spare the fiddlestrings!
THE GIRL
Scrape till it echoes out over the meadows!
OTHER GIRLS [standing in a ring round a lad who is dancing]
That’s a rare fling!
A GIRL
He has legs that can lift him!
THE LAD [dancing]
The roof here is high, and the walls wide asunder!
THE BRIDEGROOM [comes whimpering up to his FATHER, who is standing talking with some other men, and twitches his jacket]
Father, she will not; she is so proud!
HIS FATHER
What won’t she do?
THE BRIDEGROOM
She has locked herself in.
HIS FATHER
Well, you must manage to find the key.
THE BRIDEGROOM
I don’t know how.
HIS FATHER
You’re a nincompoop!
[Turns away to the others. The BRIDEGROOM drifts across the yard.]
A LAD [comes from behind the house]
Wait a bit, girls! Things’ll soon be lively! Here comes Peer Gynt.
THE SMITH [who has just come up]
Who invited him?
THE MASTER–COOK
No one.
[Goes towards the house.]
THE SMITH [to the girls]
If he should speak to you, never take notice!
A GIRL [to the others]. No, we’ll pretend that we don’t even see him.
PEER GYNT [comes in heated and full of animation, stops right in front of the group, and claps his hands]
Which is the liveliest girl of the lot of you?
A GIRL [as he approaches her]
I am not.
ANOTHER [similarly]
I am not.
A THIRD
No; nor I either.
PEER [to a fourth]
You come along, then, for want of a better.
THE GIRL
Haven’t got time.
PEER [to a fifth]
Well then, you!
THE GIRL [going]
I’m for home.
PEER
To–night? are you utterly out of your senses?
THE SMITH [after a moment, in a low voice]
See, Peer, she’s taken a greybeard for partner.
PEER [turns sharply to an elderly man]
Where are the unbespoke girls?
THE MAN
Find them out.
[Goes away from him.]
[PEER GYNT has suddenly become subdued. He glances shyly and furtively at the group. All look at him, but no one speaks. He approaches other groups. Wherever he goes there is silence; when he moves away, they look after him and smile.]
PEER [to himself]
Mocking looks; needle–keen whispers and smiles. They grate like a sawblade under the file!
[He slinks along close to the f