RUBEK. And you will come, Irene?
IRENE. Yes, certainly I will come. Wait for me here.
RUBEK {repeats dreamily}. Summer night on the upland. With you. With you. {His eyes meet hers.} Oh, Irene, that might have been our life. And that we have forfeited, we two.
IRENE. We see the irretrievable only when {breaks short off}.
RUBEK {looks inquiringly at her}. When? . . .
IRENE. When we dead awaken.
The third act takes place on a wide plateau, high up on the hills. The ground is rent with yawning clefts. Looking to the right, one sees the range of the summits half-hidden in the moving mists. On the left stands an old, dismantled hut. It is in the early morning, when the skies are the colour of pearl. The day is beginning to break. Maja and Ulfheim come down to the plateau. Their feelings are sufficiently explained by the opening words.
MAJA {trying to tear herself loose}. Let me go! I et me go, I say!
ULFHEIM. Come, come! are you going to bite now? You’re as snappish as a wolf.
When Ulfheim will not cease his annoyances, Maja threatens to run over the crest of the neighbouring ridge. Ulfheim points out that she will dash herself to pieces. He has wisely sent Lars away after the hounds, that he may be uninterrupted. Lars, he says, may be trusted not to find the dogs too soon.
MAJA {looking angrily at him}. No, I daresay not.
ULFHEIM {catching at her arm}. For Lars — he knows my — my methods of sport, you see.
Maja, with enforced self-possession, tells him frankly what she thinks of him. Her uncomplimentary observations please the bearhunter very much. Maja requires all her tact to keep him in order. When she talks of going back to the hotel, he gallantly offers to carry her on his shoulders, for which suggestion he is promptly snubbed. The two are playing as a cat and a bird play. Out of their skirmish one speech of Ulfheim’s rises suddenly to arrest attention, as it throws some light on his former life.
ULFHEIM {with suppressed exasperation}. I once took a young girl — lifted her up from the mire of the streets, and carried her in my arms. Next my heart I carried her. So I would have borne her all through life, lest haply she should dash her foot against a stone …. {with a growling laugh.} And do you know what I got for my reward?
MAJA. No. What did you get?
ULFHEIM {looks at her, smiles and nods}. I got the horns! The horns that you can see so plainly. Is not that a comical story, madam bear-murderess?
As an exchange of confidence, Maja tells him her life in summary — and chiefly her married life with Professor Rubek. As a result, these two uncertain souls feel attracted to each other, and Ulfheim states his case in the following characteristic manner:
ULFHEIM. Should not we two tack our poor shreds of life together ?
Maja, satisfied that in their vows there will be no promise on his part to show her all the splendours of the earth, or to fill her dwelling-place with art, gives a half-consent by allowing him to carry her down the slope. As they are about to go, Rubek and Irene, who have also spent the night on the heath, approach the same plateau. When Ulfheim asks Rubek if he and madame have ascended by the same pathway, Rubek answers significantly.
RUBEK. Yes, of course {With a glance at MAJA}. Henceforth the strange lady and I do not intend our ways to part.
While the musketry of their wit is at work, the elements seem to feel that there is a mighty problem to be solved then and there, and that a great drama is swiftly drawing to a close. The smaller figures of Maja and Ulfheim are grown still smaller in the dawn of the tempest. Their lots are decided in comparative quiet, and we cease to take much interest in them. But the other two hold our gaze, as they stand up silently on the fjaell, engrossing central figures of boundless, human interest. On a sudden, Ulfheim raises his hand impressively towards the heights.
