Ellida. Yes, we are; or, at least, we suppress the truth. For the
truth--the pure and simple truth is--that you came out there and bought
me.
Wangel. Bought--you say bought!
Ellida. Oh! I wasn't a bit better than you. I accepted the bargain. Sold
myself to you!
Wangel (looks at her full of pain). Ellida, have you really the heart to
call it that?
Ellida. But is there any other name for it? You could no longer bear the
emptiness of your house. You were on the look-out for a new wife.
Wangel. And a new mother for the children, Ellida.
Ellida. That too, perhaps, by the way; although you didn't in the least
know if I were fit for the position. Why, you had only seen me and
spoken to me a few times. Then you wanted me, and so--
Wangel. Yes, you may call it as you will.
Ellida. And I, on my side--why, I was so helpless and bewildered, and
so absolutely alone. Oh! it was so natural I should accept the bargain,
when you came and proposed to provide for me all my life.
Wangel. Assuredly it did not seem to me a providing for you, dear
Ellida. I asked you honestly if you would share with me and the children
the little I could call my own.
Ellida. Yes, you did; but all the same, I should never have accepted!
Never have accepted that at any price! Not sold myself! Better the
meanest work--better the poorest life--after one's own choice.
Wangel (rising). Then have the five--six years that we have lived
together been so utterly worthless to you?
Ellida. Oh! Don't think that, Wangel. I have been as well cared for here
as human being could desire. But I did not enter your house freely. That
is the thing.
Wangel (looking at her). Not freely!
Ellida. No. It was not freely that I went with you.
Wangel (in subdued tone). Ah! I remember your words of yesterday.
Ellida. It all lies in those words. They have enlightened me; and so I
see it all now.
Wangel. What do you see?
Ellida. I see that the life we two live together--is really no marriage.
Wangel (bitterly). You have spoken truly there. The life we now live is
not a marriage.
Ellida. Nor was it formerly. Never--not from the very first (looks
straight in front of her). The first--that might have been a complete
and real marriage.
Wangel. The first--what do you mean?
Ellida. Mine--with him.
Wangel (looks at her in astonishment). I do not in the least understand
you.
Ellida. Ah! dear Wangel, let us not lie to one another, nor to
ourselves.
Wangel. Well--what more?
Ellida. You see--we can never get away from that one thing--that a
freely given promise is fully as binding as a marriage.
Wangel. But what on earth--
Ellida (rising impetuously). Set me free, Wangel!
Wangel. Ellida! Ellida!
Ellida. Yes, yes! Oh! grant me that! Believe me, it will come to that
all the same--after the way we two came together.
Wangel (conquering his pain). It has come to this, then?
Ellida. It has come to this. It could not be otherwise.
Wangel (looking gloomily at her). So I have not won you by our living
together. Never, never possessed you quite.
Ellida. Ah! Wangel--if only I could love you, how gladly I would--as
dearly as you deserve. But I feel it so well--that will never be.
Wangel. Divorce, then? It is a divorce, a complete, legal divorce that
you want?
Ellida. Dear, you understand me so little! I care nothing for such
formalities. Such outer things matter nothing, I think. What I want is
that we should, of our own free will, release each other.
Wangel (bitterly, nods slowly). To cry off the bargain again--yes.
Ellida (quickly). Exactly. To cry off the bargain.
Wangel. And then, Ellida? Afterwards? Have you reflected what life would
be to both of us? What life would be to both you and me?
Ellida. No matter. Things must turn out afterwards as they may. What I
beg and implore of you, Wangel, is the most important. Only set me free!
Give me back my complete freedom!
Wangel. Ellida, it is a fearful thing you ask of me. At least give me
time to collect myself before I come to a decision. Let us talk it over
more carefully. And you yourself--take time to consider what you are
doing.
Ellida. But we have no time to lose with such matters. I must have my
freedom again today.
Wangel. Why today?
Ellida. Because he is coming tonight.
Wangel (starts). Coming! He! What has this stranger to do with it?
Ellida. I want to face him in perfect freedom.
Wangel. And what--what else do you intend to do?
Ellida. I will not hide behind the fact that I am the wife of another
man; nor make the excuse that I have no choice, for then it would be no
decision.
Wangel, You speak of a choice. Choice, Ellida! A choice in such a
matter!
Ellida. Yes, I must be free to choose--to choose for either side. I must
be able to let him go away--alone, or to go with him.
Wangel. Do you know what you are saying? Go with him--give your whole
life into his hands!
Ellida. Didn't I give my life into your hands, and without any ado?
Wangel. Maybe. But he! He! an absolute stranger! A man of whom you know
so little!
Ellida. Ah! but after all I knew you even less; and yet I went with you.
Wangel. Then you knew to some extent what life lay before you. But now?
Think! What do you know? You know absolutely nothing. Not even who or
what he is.
Ellida (looking in front of her). That is true; but that is the terror.
Wangel. Yes, indeed, it is terrible!
Ellida. That is why I feel I must plunge into it.
Wangel (looking at her). Because it seems terrible?
Ellida. Yes; because of that.
Wangel (coming closer). Listen, Ellida. What do you really mean by
terrible?
Ellida (reflectively). The terrible is that which repels and attracts.
Wangel. Attracts, you say?
Ellida. Attracts most of all, I think.
Wangel (slowly). You are one with the sea.
Ellida. That, too, is a terror.
Wangel. And that terror is in you. You both repel and attract.
Ellida. Do you think so, Wangel?
Wangel. After all, I have never really known you--never really. Now I am
beginning to understand.
Ellida. And that is why you must set me free! Free me from every bond to
you--and yours. I am not what you took me for. Now you see it yourself.
Now we can part as friends--and freely.
Wangel (sadly). Perhaps it would be better for us both if we parted--And
yet, I cannot! You are the terror to me, Ellida; the attraction is what
is strongest in you.
Ellida. Do you say that?
Wangel. Let us try and live through this day wisely--in perfect quiet
of mind. I dare not set you free, and release you today. I have no right
to. No right for your own sake, Ellida. I exercise my right and my duty
to protect you.
Ellida. Protect? What is there to protect me from? I am not threatened
by any outward power. The terror lies deeper, Wangel. The terror is--the
attraction in my own mind. And what can you do against that?
Wangel. I can strengthen and urge you to fight against it.
Ellida. Yes; if I wished to fight against it.
Wangel. Then you do not wish to?
Ellida. Oh! I don't know myself.
Wangel. Tonight all will be decided, dear Ellida--Ellida (bursting out).
Yes, think! The decision so near--the decision for one's whole life!
Wangel. And then tomorrow--Ellida. Tomorrow! Perhaps my real future will
have been ruined.
Wangel. Your real--Ellida. The whole, full life of freedom lost--lost
for me, and perhaps for him also.
Wangel (in a lower tone, seizing her wrist). Ellida, do you love this
stranger?
Ellida. Do I? Oh, how can I tell! I only know that to me he is a terror,
and that--
Wangel. And that--
Ellida (tearing herself away). And that it is to him I think I belong.
Wangel (bowing his head). I begin to understand better.
Ellida. And what remedy have you for that? What advice to give me?
Wangel (looking sadly at her). Tomorrow he will be gone, then the
misfortune will be averted from your head; and then I will consent to
set you free. We will cry off the bargain tomorrow, Ellida.
Ellida. Ah, Wangel, tomorrow! That is too late.
Wangel (looking towards garden). The children--the children! Let us
spare them, at least for the present.
(ARNHOLM, BOLETTE, HILDE, and LYNGSTRAND come into the garden.
LYNGSTRAND says goodbye in the garden, and goes out. The rest come into
the room.)
Arnholm. You must know we have been making plans.
Hilde. We're going out to the fjord tonight and--
Bolette. No; you mustn't tell.
Wangel. We two, also, have been making plans.
Arnholm. Ah!--really?
Wangel. Tomorrow Ellida is going away to Skjoldviken for a time.
Bolette. Going away?
Arnholm. Now, look here, that's very sensible, Mrs. Wangel.
Wangel. Ellida wants to go home again--home to the sea.
Hilde (springing towards ELLIDA). You are going away--away from us?
Ellida (frightened). Hilde! What is the matter?
Hilde (controlling herself). Oh, it's nothing. (In a low voice, turning
from her.) Are only you going?
Bolette (anxiously). Father--I see it--you, too, are going--to
Skjoldviken!
Wangel. No, no! Perhaps I shall run out there every now and again.
Bolette. And come here to us?
Wangel. I will--Bolette. Every now and again!
Wangel. Dear child, it must be. (He crosses the room.)
Arnholm (whispers). We will talk it over later, Bolette. (He crosses to
WANGEL. They speak in low tones up stage by the door.)
Ellida (aside to BOLETTE). What was the matter with Hilde? She looked
quite scared.
Bolette. Have you never noticed what Hilde goes about here, day in, day
out, hungering for?
Ellida. Hungering for?
Bolette. Ever since you came into the house?
Ellida. No, no. What is it?
Bolette. One loving word from you.
Ellida. Oh! If there should be something for me to do here!
(She clasps her hands together over her head, and looks fixedly in
front of her, as if torn by contending thoughts and emotions. WANGEL and
ARNHOLM come across the room whispering. BOLETTE goes to the side room,
and looks in. Then she throws open the door.)
Bolette. Father, dear--the table is laid--if you--
Wangel (with forced composure). Is it, child? That's well. Come,
Arnholm! We'll go in and drink a farewell cup--with the "Lady from the
Sea." (They go out through the right.)
ACT V
(SCENE.--The distant part of DOCTOR WANGEL'S garden, and the carp pond.
The summer night gradually darkens.
ARNHOLM, BOLETTE, LYNGSTRAND and HILDE are in a boat, punting along the
shore to the left.)
Hilde. See! We can jump ashore easily here.
Arnholm. No, no; don't!
Lyngstrand. I can't jump, Miss Hilde.
Hilde. Can't you jump either, Arnholm?
Arnholm. I'd rather not try.
Bolette. Then let's land down there, by the bathing steps.
(They push off. At the same moment BALLESTED comes along the footpath,
carrying music-books and a French horn. He bows to those in the boat,
turns and speaks to them. The answers are heard farther and farther
away.)
Ballested. What do you say? Yes, of course it's on account of the
English steamer; for this is her last visit here this year. But if
you want to enjoy the pleasures of melody, you mustn't wait too long.
(Calling out.) What? (Shaking his head.) Can't hear what you say!
(ELLIDA, with a shawl over her head, enters, followed by DOCTOR WANGEL.)
Wangel. But, dear Ellida, I assure you there's plenty of time.
Ellida. No, no, there is not! He may come any moment.
Ballested (outside the fence). Hallo! Good-evening, doctor.
Good-evening, Mrs. Wangel.
Wangel (noticing him). Oh! is it you? Is there to be music tonight?
Ballested. Yes; the Wind Band Society thought of making themselves
heard. We've no dearth of festive occasions nowadays. Tonight it's in
honour of the English ship.
Ellida. The English ship! Is she in sight already?
Ballested. Not yet. But you know she comes from between the islands. You
can't see anything of her, and then she's alongside of you.
Ellida. Yes, that is so.
Wangel (half to ELLIDA). Tonight is the last voyage, then she will not
come again.
Ballested. A sad thought, doctor, and that's why we're going to give
them an ovation, as the saying is. Ah! Yes--ah! yes. The glad summertime
will soon be over now. Soon all ways will be barred, as they say in the
tragedy.
Ellida. All ways barred--yes!
Ballested. It's sad to think of. We have been the joyous children of
summer for weeks and months now. It's hard to reconcile yourself to
the dark days--just at first, I mean. For men can accli--a--acclimatise
themselves, Mrs. Wangel. Ay, indeed they can. (Bows, and goes off to the
left.)
Ellida (looking out at the fjord). Oh, this terrible suspense! This
torturing last half-hour before the decision!
Wangel. You are determined, then, to speak to him yourself?
Ellida. I must speak to him myself; for it is freely that I must make my
choice.
Wangel. You have no choice, Ellida. You have no right to choose--no
right without my permission.
Ellida. You can never prevent the choice, neither you nor anyone. You
can forbid me to go away with him--to follow him--in case I should
choose to do that. You can keep me here by force--against my will. That
you can do. But that I should choose, choose from my very soul--choose
him, and not you--in case I would and did choose thus--this you cannot
prevent.
Wangel. No; you are right. I cannot prevent that.
Ellida. And so I have nothing to help me to resist. Here, at home, there
is no single thing that attracts me and binds me. I am so absolutely
rootless in your house, Wangel. The children are not mine--their hearts,
I mean--never have been. When I go, if I do go, either with him tonight,
or to Skjoldviken tomorrow, I haven't a key to give up, an order to give
about anything whatsoever. I am absolutely rootless in your house--I
have been absolutely outside everything from the very first.
Wangel. You yourself wished it.
Ellida. No, no, I did not. I neither wished nor did not wish it. I
simply left things just as I found them the day I came here. It is you,
and no one else, who wished it.
Wangel. I thought to do all for the best for you.
Ellida. Yes, Wangel, I know it so well! But there is retribution in
that, a something that avenges itself. For now I find no binding power
here-nothing to strengthen me--nothing to help me--nothing to draw me
towards what should have been the strongest possession of us both.
Wangel. I see it, Ellida. And that is why from t-morrow you shall have
back your freedom. Henceforth, you shall live your own life.
Ellida. And you call that my own life! No! My own true life lost its
bearings when I agreed to live with you. (Clenches her hand in fear
and unrest.) And now--tonight--in half an hour, he whom I forsook is
coming--he to whom I should have cleaved forever, even as he has cleaved
to me! Now he is coming to offer me--for the last and only time--the
chance of living my life over again, of living my own true life--the
life that terrifies and attracts--and I can not forgo that--not freely.
Wangel. That is why it is necessary your husband--and your
doctor--should take the power of acting from you, and act on your
behalf.
Ellida. Yes, Wangel, I quite understand. Believe me, there are times
when I think it would be peace and deliverance if with all my soul
I could be bound to you--and try to brave all that terrifies--and
attracts. But I cannot! No, no, I cannot do that!
Wangel. Come, Ellida, let us walk up and down together for awhile.
Ellida. I would gladly--but I dare not. For he said I was to wait for
him here.
Wangel. Come! There is time enough.
Ellida. Do you think so?
Wangel. Plenty of time, I tell you.
Ellida. Then let us go, for a little while.
(They pass out in the foreground. At the same time ARNHOLM and BOLETTE
appear by the upper bank of the pond.)
Bolette (noticing the two as they go out). See there--
Arnholm (in low voice). Hush! Let them go. Bolette. Can you understand
what has been going on between them these last few days?
Arnholm. Have you noticed anything?
Bolette. Have I not!
Arnholm. Anything peculiar?
Bolette. Yes, one thing and another. Haven't you?
Arnholm. Well--I don't exactly know.
Bolette. Yes, you have; only you won't speak out about it.
Arnholm. I think it will do your stepmother good to go on this little
journey.
Bolette. Do you think so?
Arnholm. I should say it would be well for all parties that she should
get away every now and then.
Bolette. If she does go home to Skjoldviken tomorrow, she will never
come back here again!
Arnholm. My dear Bolette, whatever makes you think that?
Bolette. I am quite convinced of it. Just you wait; you'll see that
she'll not come back again; not anyhow as long as I and Hilde are in the
house here.
Arnholm. Hilde, too?
Bolette. Well, it might perhaps be all right with Hilde. For she is
scarcely more than a child. And I believe that at bottom she worships
Ellida. But, you see, it's different with me--a stepmother who isn't so
very much older than oneself!
Arnholm. Dear Bolette, perhaps it might, after all, not be so very long
before you left.
Bolette (eagerly). Really! Have you spoken to father about it?
Arnholm. Yes, I have.
Bolette. Well, what does he say?
Arnholm. Hm! Well, your father's so thoroughly taken up with other
matters just now--
Bolette. Yes, yes! that's how I knew it would be.
Arnholm. But I got this much out of him. You mustn't reckon upon any
help from him.
Bolette. No?
Arnholm. He explained his circumstances to me clearly; he thought that
such a thing was absolutely out of the question, impossible for him.
Bolette (reproachfully). And you had the heart to come and mock me?
Arnholm. I've certainly not done that, dear Bolette. It depends wholly
and solely upon yourself whether you go away or not.
Bolette. What depends upon me?
Arnholm. Whether you are to go out into the world--learn all you most
care for--take part in all you are hungering after here at home--live
your life under brighter conditions, Bolette.
Bolette (clasping her hands together). Good God! But it's impossible! If
father neither can nor will--and I have no one else on earth to whom I
could turn--Arnholm. Couldn't you make up your mind to accept a little
help from your old--from your former teacher?
Bolette. From you, Mr. Arnholm! Would you be willing to--
Arnholm. Stand by you! Yes--with all my heart. Both with word and in
deed. You may count upon it. Then you accept? Well? Do you agree?
Bolette. Do I agree! To get away--to see the world--to learn something
thoroughly! All that seemed to be a great, beautiful impossibility!
Arnholm. All that may now become a reality to you, if only you yourself
wish it.
Bolette. And to all this unspeakable happiness you will help me! Oh, no!
Tell me, can I accept such an offer from a stranger?
Arnholm. You can from me, Bolette. From me you can accept anything.
Bolette (seizing his hands). Yes, I almost think I can! I don't know how
it is, but--(bursting out) Oh! I could both laugh and cry for joy, for
happiness! Then I should know life really after all. I began to be so
afraid life would pass me by.
Arnholm. You need not fear that, Bolette. But now you must tell me quite
frankly--if there is anything--anything you are bound to here.
Bolette. Bound to? Nothing.
Arnholm. Nothing whatever?
Bolette. No, nothing at all. That is--I am bound to father to some
extent. And to Hilde, too. But--
Arnholm. Well, you'll have to leave your father sooner or later.
And some time Hilde also will go her own way in life. That is only a
question of time. Nothing more. And so there is nothing else that binds
you, Bolette? Not any kind of connection?
Bolette. Nothing whatever. As far as that goes, I could leave at any
moment.
Arnholm. Well, if that is so, dear Bolette, you shall go away with me!
Bolette (clapping her hands). Oh God! What joy to think of it!
Arnholm. For I hope you trust me fully?
Bolette. Indeed, I do!
Arnholm. And you dare to trust yourself and your future fully and
confidently into my hands, Bolette? Is that true? You will dare to do
this?
Bolette. Of course; how could I not do so? Could you believe anything
else? You, who have been my old teacher--my teacher in the old days, I
mean.
Arnholm. Not because of that. I will not consider that side of the
matter; but--well, so you are free, Bolette! There is nothing that binds
you, and so I ask you, if you could--if you could--bind yourself to me
for life?
Bolette (steps back frightened). What are you saying?
Arnholm. For all your life, Bolette. Will you be my wife?
Bolette (half to herself). No, no, no! That is impossible, utterly
impossible!
Arnholm. It is really so absolutely impossible for you to--
Bolette. But, surely, you cannot mean what you are saying, Mr. Arnholm!
(Looking at him.) Or--yet--was that what you meant when you offered to
do so much for me?
Arnholm. You must listen to me one moment, Bolette. I suppose I have
greatly surprised you!
Bolette. Oh! how could such a thing from you--how could it but--but
surprise me!
Arnholm. Perhaps you are right. Of course, you didn't--you could not
know it was for your sake I made this journey.
Bolette. Did you come here for--for my sake?
Arnholm. I did, Bolette. In the spring I received a letter from your
father, and in it there was a passage that made me think--hm--that you
held your former teacher in--in a little more than friendly remembrance.
Bolette. How could father write such a thing?
Arnholm. He did not mean it so. But I worked myself into the belief
that here was a young girl longing for me to come again--No, you mustn't
interrupt me, dear Bolette! And--you see, when a man like myself, who
is no longer quite young, has such a belief--or fancy, it makes an
overwhelming impression. There grew within me a living, a grateful
affection for you; I thought I must come to you, see you again, and tell
you I shared the feelings that I fancied you had for me.
Bolette. And now you know it is not so!--that it was a mistake!
Arnholm. It can't be helped, Bolette. Your image, as I bear it within
myself, will always be coloured and stamped with the impression that
this mistake gave me. Perhaps you cannot understand this; but still it
is so.
Bolette. I never thought such a thing possible.
Arnholm. But now you have seen that it is possible, what do you say now,
Bolette? Couldn't you make up your mind to be--yes--to be my wife?
Bolette. Oh! it seems so utterly impossible, Mr. Arnholm. You, who have
been my teacher! I can't imagine ever standing in any other relation
towards you.
Arnholm. Well, well, if you think you really cannot--Then our old
relations remain unchanged, dear Bolette.
Bolette. What do you mean?
Arnholm. Of course, to keep my promise all the same. I will take care
you get out into the world and see something of it. Learn some things
you really want to know; live safe and independent. Your future I
shall provide for also, Bolette. For in me you will always have a good,
faithful, trustworthy friend. Be sure of that.
Bolette. Good heavens! Mr. Arnholm, all that is so utterly impossible
now.
Arnholm. Is that impossible too?
Bolette. Surely you can see that! After what you have just said to me,
and after my answer--Oh! you yourself must see that it is impossible
for me now to accept so very much from you. I can accept nothing from
you--nothing after this.
Arnholm. So you would rather stay at home here, and let life pass you
by?
Bolette. Oh! it is such dreadful misery to think of that.
Arnholm. Will you renounce knowing something of the outer world?
Renounce bearing your part in all that you yourself say you are
hungering for? To know there is so infinitely much, and yet never really
to understand anything of it? Think carefully, Bolette.
Bolette. Yes, yes! You are right, Mr. Arnholm.
Arnholm. And then, when one day your father is no longer here, then
perhaps to be left helpless and alone in the world; or live to give
yourself to another man--whom you, perhaps, will also feel no affection
for--
Bolette. Oh, yes! I see how true all you say is. But still--and yet
perhaps--
Arnholm (quickly). Well?
Bolette (looking at him hesitatingly). Perhaps it might not be so
impossible after all.
Arnholm. What, Bolette?
Bolette. Perhaps it might be possible--to accept--what you proposed to
me.
Arnholm. Do you mean that, after all, you might be willing to--that at
all events you could give me the happiness of helping you as a steadfast
friend?
Bolette. No, no, no! Never that, for that would be utterly impossible
now. No--Mr. Arnholm--rather take me.
Arnholm. Bolette! You will?
Bolette. Yes, I believe I will.
Arnholm. And after all you will be my wife?
Bolette. Yes; if you still think that--that you will have me.
Arnholm. Think! (Seizing her hand.) Oh, thanks, thanks, Bolette. All
else that you said--your former doubts--these do not frighten me. If I
do not yet possess your whole heart, I shall know how to conquer it. Oh,
Bolette, I will wait upon you hand and foot!
Bolette. And then I shall see something of the world? Shall live! You
have promised me that?
Arnholm. And will keep my promise.
Bolette. And I may learn everything I want to?
Arnholm. I, myself, will be your teacher as formerly, Bolette. Do you
remember the last school year?
Bolette (quietly and absently). To think--to know--one's self free, and
to get out into the strange world, and then, not to need to be anxious
for the future--not to be harassed about one's stupid livelihood!
Arnholm. No, you will never need to waste a thought upon such matters.
And that's a good thing, too, in its way, dear Bolette, isn't it? Eh?
Bolette. Indeed it is. That is certain.
Arnholm (putting his arms about her). Oh, you will see how comfortably
and easily we shall settle down together! And how well and safely and
trustfully we two shall get on with one another, Bolette.
Bolette. Yes. I also begin to--I believe really--it will answer. (Looks
out to the right, and hurriedly frees herself.) Oh, don't say anything
about this.
Arnholm. What is it, dear?
Bolette. Oh! it's that poor (pointing}--see out there.
Arnholm. Is it your father?
Bolette. No. It's the young sculptor. He's down there with Hilde.
Arnholm. Oh, Lyngstrand! What's really the matter with him?
Bolette. Why, you know how weak and delicate he is.
Arnholm. Yes. Unless it's simply imaginary.
Bolette. No, it's real enough! He'll not last long. But perhaps that's
best for him.
Arnholm. Dear, why should that be best?
Bolette. Because--because--nothing would come of his art anyhow. Let's
go before they come.
Arnholm. Gladly, my dear Bolette.
(HILDE and LYNGSTRAND appear by the pond.)
Hilde. Hi, hi! Won't your honours wait for us?
Arnholm. Bolette and I would rather go on a little in advance. (He and
BOLETTE go out to the Left.)
Lyngstrand (laughs quietly). It's very delightful here now. Everybody
goes about in pairs--always two and two together.
Hilde (looking after them). I could almost swear he's proposing to her.
Lyngstrand. Really? Have you noticed anything?
Hilde. Yes. It's not very difficult--if you keep your eyes open.
Lyngstrand. But Miss Bolette won't have him. I'm certain of that.
Hilde. No. For she thinks he's got so dreadfully old-looking, and she
thinks he'll soon get bald.
Lyngstrand. It's not only because of that. She'd not have him anyhow.
Hilde. How can you know?
Lyngstrand. Well, because there's someone else she's promised to think
of.
Hilde. Only to think of?
Lyngstrand. While he is away, yes.
Hilde. Oh! then I suppose it's you she's to think of.
Lyngstrand. Perhaps it might be.
Hilde. She promised you that?
Lyngstrand. Yes--think--she promised me that! But mind you don't tell
her you know.
Hilde. Oh! I'll be mum! I'm as secret as the grave.
Lyngstrand. I think it's awfully kind of her.
Hilde. And when you come home again--are you going to be engaged to her,and then marry her? |
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