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 a 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.
