cultural resources in henrik ibsen's early environment - Ibsen.net

And the breath of night flows over the forest's breast.
Now in the castle at home sits his wife
The beautiful Ines, the same evening,
In the chamber, where the last glow from the fire
Shines mystically through the stained glass window.
She half reclines on richly-embroidered pillows
And plays softly with her luxurious hair.
Pensively she lets her noble head sink,
A brilliant tear forms in her eye.
Now she raises her arm; it sinks again,
And waves of anxiety wash over her breast.
But now again she pulls the bell cord,
It rings. Someone comes walking out in the hall:
A soft finger knocks lightly on the door...
It opens halfway . . . a page glides in,
A page, fair and slender like a child's thoughts,
With golden locks and rosy cheeks.
The freshness of youth swims in his sea-blue eye,
His carriage is erect, his chin still smooth,
Around his fine limbs fits closely
The white silk robe embossed with silver.
In his hand he carries a golden tray
On which there stands a sparkling chalice,
He kneels down and bids her drink
The noble wine, so fragrant, so cool.
She leans toward him gracefully
Bashfully her glance drops,
And the gold's luster, and the wine's dark ripples
Are reflected in her snow-white brow.
The handsome page kisses her hands
She tolerates it . . . she tolerates even more...
Soon neither of them is conscious of the world any more:
Only lips against lips, eyes to eyes.
Then all at once the drawbridge thunders.
Do they hear it, do they run away? Oh! No!
The courtyard clatters loudly with horseshoes
They notice nothing, they do not even wake.
Loud footsteps are heard in the stairway . . . are they asleep?
Now Ines leaps up with a shriek of terror,
And the page conceals himself in an alcove
Covered by a purple curtain.
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