[_With a sudden shudder._] Oh, that horrible sight!
ALLMERS.
[_Nods._] The child’s evil eyes.
RITA.
[_In dread, recoiling from him._] Let me be, Alfred! I am afraid of you.
I have never seen you like this before.
ALLMERS.
[_Looks harshly and coldly at her._] Sorrow makes us wicked and hateful.
RITA.
[_Terrified, and yet defiant._] That is what I feel, too.
[_ALLMERS goes towards the right and looks out over the fiord. RITA
seats herself at the table. A short pause._
ALLMERS.
[_Turning his head towards her._] You never really and truly loved
him—never!
RITA.
[_With cold self-control._] Eyolf would never let me take him really and
truly to my heart.
ALLMERS.
Because you did not want to.
RITA.
Oh yes, I did. I did want to. But some one stood in the way—even from
the first.
ALLMERS.
[_Turning right round._] Do you mean that _I_ stood in the way?
RITA.
Oh, no—not at first.
ALLMERS.
[_Coming nearer her._] Who, then?
RITA.
His aunt.
ALLMERS.
Asta?
RITA.
Yes. Asta stood and barred the way for me.
ALLMERS.
Can you say that, Rita?
RITA.
Yes. Asta—she took him to her heart—from the moment that happened—that
miserable fall.
ALLMERS.
If she did so, she did it in love.
RITA.
[_Vehemently._] That is just it! I cannot endure to share anything with
any one! Not in love.
ALLMERS.
We two should have shared him between us in love.
RITA.
[_Looking scornfully at him._] We? Oh, the truth is you have never had
any real love for him either.
ALLMERS.
[_Looks at her in astonishment_] _I_ have not——!
RITA.
No, you have not. At first you were so utterly taken up by that book of
yours—about Responsibility.
ALLMERS.
[_Forcibly._] Yes, I was. But my very book—I sacrificed for Eyolf’s
sake.
RITA.
Not out of love for him.
ALLMERS.
Why then, do you suppose?
RITA.
Because you were consumed with mistrust of yourself. Because you had
begun to doubt whether you had any great vocation to live for in the
world.
ALLMERS.
[_Observing her closely._] Could you see that in me?
RITA.
Oh, yes—little by little. And then you needed something new to fill up
your life.—It seems _I_ was not enough for you any longer.
ALLMERS.
That is the law of change, Rita.
RITA.
And that was why you wanted to make a prodigy of poor little Eyolf.
ALLMERS.
That was not what I wanted. I wanted to make a happy human being of
him.—That, and nothing more.
RITA.
But not out of love for him. Look into yourself! [_With a certain
shyness of expression._] Search out all that lies under—and behind your
action.
ALLMERS.
[_Avoiding her eyes._] There is something you shrink from saying.
RITA.
And you too.
ALLMERS.
[_Looks thoughtfully at her._] If it is as you say, then we two have
never really possessed our own child.
RITA.
No. Not in perfect love.
ALLMERS.
And yet we are sorrowing so bitterly for him.
RITA.
[_With sarcasm._] Yes, isn’t it curious that we should grieve like this
over a little stranger boy?
ALLMERS.
[_With an outburst._] Oh, don’t call him a stranger!
RITA.
[_Sadly shaking her head._] We never won the boy, Alfred. Not I—nor you
either.
ALLMERS.
[_Wringing his hands._] And now it is too late! Too late!
RITA.
And no consolation anywhere—in anything.
ALLMERS.
[_With sudden passion._] _You_ are the guilty one in this!
RITA.
[_Rising._] I!
ALLMERS.
Yes, you! It was your fault that he became—what he was! It was your
fault that he could not save himself when he fell into the water.
RITA.
[_With a gesture of repulsion._] Alfred—you _shall_ not throw the blame
upon me!
ALLMERS.
[_More and more beside himself._] Yes, yes, I do! It was you that left
the helpless child unwatched upon the table.
RITA.
He was lying so comfortably among the cushions, and sleeping so soundly.
And you had promised to look after him.
ALLMERS.
Yes, I had. [_Lowering his voice._] But then you came—you, you, you—and
lured me to you.
RITA.
[_Looking defiantly at him._] Oh, better own at once that you forgot the
child and everything else.
ALLMERS.
[_In suppressed desperation._] Yes, that is true. [_Lower._] I forgot
the child—in your arms!
RITA.
[_Exasperated._] Alfred! Alfred—this is intolerable of you!
ALLMERS.
[_In a low voice, clenching his fists before her face._] In that hour
you condemned little Eyolf to death.
RITA.
[_Wildly._] You, too! You, too—if it is as you say!
ALLMERS.
Oh yes—call me to account, too—if you will. We have sinned, both of us.
And so, after all, there _was_ retribution in Eyolf’s death.
RITA.
Retribution?
ALLMERS.
[_With more self-control._] Yes. Judgment upon you and me. Now, as we
stand here, we have our deserts. While he lived, we let ourselves shrink
away from him in secret, abject remorse. We could not bear to see it—the
thing he had to drag with him——
RITA.
[_Whispers._] The crutch.
ALLMERS.
Yes, that. And now, what we now call sorrow and heartache—is really the
gnawing of conscience, Rita. Nothing else.
RITA.
[_Gazing helplessly at him._] I feel as if all this must end in
despair—in madness for both of us. For we can never—never make it good
again.
ALLMERS.
[_Passing into a calmer mood._] I dreamed about Eyolf last night. I
thought I saw him coming up from the pier. He could run like other boys.
So nothing had happened to him—neither the one thing nor the other. And
the torturing reality was nothing but a dream, I thought. Oh, how I
thanked and blessed——[_Checking himself._] H’m!
RITA.
[_Looking at him._] Whom?
ALLMERS.
[_Evasively._] Whom——?
RITA.
Yes; whom did you thank and bless?
ALLMERS.
[_Putting aside the question._] I was only dreaming, you know——
RITA.
One whom you yourself do not believe in?
ALLMERS.
That was how I felt, all the same. Of course, I was sleeping——
RITA.
[_Reproachfully._] You should not have taught me to doubt, Alfred.
ALLMERS.
Would it have been right of me to let you go through life with your mind
full of empty fictions? RITA.
It would have been better for me; for then I should have had something
to take refuge in. Now I am utterly at sea.
ALLMERS.
[_Observing her closely._] If you had the choice now——. If you could
follow Eyolf to where he is——?
RITA.
Yes? What then?
ALLMERS.
If you were fully assured that you would find him again—know
him—understand him——?
RITA.
Yes, yes; what then?
ALLMERS.
Would you, of your own free will, take the leap over to him? Of your own
free will leave everything behind you? Renounce your whole earthly life?
Would you, Rita?
RITA.
[_Softly._] Now, at once?
ALLMERS.
Yes; to-day. This very hour. Answer me—would you?
RITA.
[_Hesitating._] Oh, I don’t know, Alfred. No! I think I should have to
stay here with you, a little while.
ALLMERS.
For my sake?
RITA.
Yes, only for your sake.
ALLMERS.
But afterwards? Would you then——? Answer!
RITA.
Oh, what can I answer? I _could_ not go away from you. Never! Never!
ALLMERS.
But suppose now _I_ went to Eyolf? And you had the fullest assurance
that you would meet both him and me there. Then would you come over to
us?
RITA.
I should want to—so much! so much! But——
ALLMERS.
Well?
RITA.
[_Moaning softly._] I could not—I feel it. No, no, I never could! Not
for all the glory of heaven!
ALLMERS.
Nor I.
RITA.
No, you feel it so, too, don’t you, Alfred! You could not either, could
you?
ALLMERS.
No. For it is here, in the life of earth, that we living beings are at
home.
RITA.
Yes, here lies the kind of happiness that we can understand.
ALLMERS.
[_Darkly._] Oh, happiness—happiness——
RITA.
You mean that happiness—that we can never find it again? [_Looks
inquiringly at him._] But if——? [_Vehemently._] No, no; I dare not say
it! Nor even think it!
ALLMERS.
Yes, say it—say it, Rita.
RITA.
[_Hesitatingly._] Could we not try to——? Would it not be possible to
forget him?
ALLMERS.
Forget Eyolf?
RITA.
Forget the anguish and remorse, I mean.
ALLMERS.
Can you wish it?
RITA.
Yes,—if it were possible. [_With an outburst._] For this—I cannot bear
this for ever! Oh, can we not think of something that will bring us
forgetfulness!
ALLMERS.
[_Shakes his head._] What could that be?
RITA.
Could we not see what travelling would do—far away from here?
ALLMERS.
From home? When you know you are never really well anywhere but here.
RITA.
Well, then, let us have crowds of people about us! Keep open house!
Plunge into something that can deaden and dull our thoughts.
ALLMERS.
Such a life would be impossible for me.—No,—rather than that, I would
try to take up my work again.
RITA.
[_Bitingly._] Your work—the work that has always stood like a dead wall
between us!
ALLMERS.
[_Slowly, looking fixedly at her._] There must always be a dead wall
between us two, from this time forth.
RITA.
Why must there——?
ALLMERS.
Who knows but that a child’s great, open eyes are watching us day and
night.
RITA.
[_Softly, shuddering._] Alfred—how terrible to think of!
ALLMERS.
Our love has been like a consuming fire. Now it must be quenched——
RITA.
[_With a movement towards him._] Quenched!
ALLMERS.
[_Hardly._] It is quenched—in one of us.
RITA.
[_As if petrified._] And you dare say that to me!
ALLMERS.
[_More gently._] It is dead, Rita. But in what I now feel for you—in our
common guilt and need of atonement—I seem to foresee a sort of
resurrection——
RITA.
[_Vehemently._] I don’t care a bit about any resurrection!
ALLMERS.
Rita!
RITA.
I am a warm-blooded being! I don’t go drowsing about—with fishes’ blood
in my veins. [_Wringing her hands._] And now to be imprisoned for
life—in anguish and remorse! Imprisoned with one who is no longer mine,
mine, mine!
ALLMERS.
It must have ended so, sometime, Rita.
RITA.
Must have ended so! The love that in the beginning rushed forth so
eagerly to meet with love!
ALLMERS.
My love did not rush forth to you in the beginning.
RITA.
What did you feel for me, first of all?
ALLMERS.
Dread.
RITA.
That I can understand. How was it, then, that I won you after all?
ALLMERS.
[_In a low voice._] You were so entrancingly beautiful, Rita.
RITA.
[_Looks searchingly at him._] Then that was the only reason? Say it,
Alfred! The only reason?
ALLMERS.
[_Conquering himself._] No, there was another as well.
RITA.
[_With an outburst._] I can guess what that was! It was “my gold, and my
green forests,” as you call it. Was it not so, Alfred?
ALLMERS.
Yes.
RITA.
[_Looks at him with deep reproach._] How could you—how could you!
ALLMERS.
I had Asta to think of.
RITA.
[_Angrily._] Yes, Asta! [_Bitterly._] Then it was really Asta that
brought us two together?
ALLMERS.
She knew nothing about it. She has no suspicion of it, even to this day.
RITA.
[_Rejecting the plea._] It was Asta, nevertheless! [_Smiling, with a
sidelong glance of_ _scorn._] Or, no—it was little Eyolf. Little Eyolf,
my dear!
ALLMERS.
Eyolf——?
RITA.
Yes, you used to call her Eyolf, did you not? I seem to remember your
telling me so—once, in a moment of confidence. [_Coming up to him._] Do
you remember it—that entrancingly beautiful hour, Alfred?
ALLMERS.
[_Recoiling, as if in horror._] I remember nothing! I _will_ not
remember!
RITA.
[_Following him._] It was in that hour—when your other little Eyolf was
crippled for life!
ALLMERS.
[_In a hollow voice, supporting himself against the table._]
Retribution!
RITA.
[_Menacingly._] Yes, retribution!
[_ASTA and BORGHEIM return by way of the boat-shed. She is carrying some
water-lilies in her hand._
RITA.
[_With self-control._] Well, Asta, have you and Mr. Borgheim talked
things thoroughly over?
ASTA.
Oh, yes—pretty well.
[_She puts down her umbrella and lays the flowers upon a chair._
BORGHEIM.
Miss Allmers has been very silent during our walk.
RITA.
Indeed, has she? Well, Alfred and I have talked things out thoroughly
enough——
ASTA.
[_Looking eagerly at both of them._] What is this——?
RITA.
Enough to last all our lifetime, I say. [_Breaking off._] Come now, let
us go up to the house, all four of us. We must have company about us in
future. It will never do for Alfred and me to be alone.
ALLMERS.
Yes, do you go ahead, you two. [_Turning._] I must speak a word to you
before we go, Asta.
RITA.
[_Looking at him._] Indeed? Well then, you come with me, Mr. Borgheim.
[_RITA and BORGHEIM go up the wood-path._
ASTA.
[_Anxiously._] Alfred, what is the matter?
ALLMERS.
[_Darkly._] Only that I cannot endure to be here any more.
ASTA.
Here! With Rita, do you mean?
ALLMERS.
Yes. Rita and I cannot go on living together.
ASTA.
[_Seizes his arm and shakes it._] Oh, Alfred—don’t say anything so
terrible!
ALLMERS.
It is the truth I am telling you. We are making each other wicked and
hateful.
ASTA.
[_With painful emotion._] I had never—never dreamt of anything like
this!
ALLMERS.
I did not realise it either, till to-day.
ASTA.
And now you want to——! What is it you really want, Alfred?
ALLMERS.
I want to get away from everything here—far, far away from it all.
ASTA.
And to stand quite alone in the world?
ALLMERS.
[_Nods._] As I used to, before, yes.
ASTA.
But you are not fitted for living alone!
ALLMERS.
Oh, yes. I was so in the old days, at any rate.
ASTA.
In the old days, yes; for then you had me with you.
ALLMERS.
[_Trying to take her hand._] Yes. And it is to you, Asta, that I now
want to come home again.
ASTA.
[_Eluding him._] To me! No, no, Alfred! That is quite impossible.
ALLMERS.
[_Lookes sadly at her._] Then Borgheim stands in the way after all?
ASTA.
[_Earnestly._] No, no; he does not! That is quite a mistake!
ALLMERS.
Good. Then I will come to you—my dear, dear sister. I must come to you
again—home to you, to be purified and ennobled after my life with——
ASTA.
[_Shocked._] Alfred,—you are doing Rita a great wrong!
ALLMERS.
I have done her a great wrong. But not in this. Oh, think of it,
Asta—think of our life together, yours and mine. Was it not like one
long holy-day from first to last?
ASTA.
Yes, it was, Alfred. But we can never live it over again.
ALLMERS.
[_Bitterly._] Do you mean that marriage has so irreparably ruined me?
ASTA.
[_Quietly_] No, that is not what I mean.
ALLMERS.
Well, then we two will live our old life over again.
ASTA.
[_With decision._] We cannot, Alfred.
ALLMERS.
Yes, we can. For the love of a brother and sister——
ASTA.
[_Eagerly._] What of it?
ALLMERS.
That is the only relation in life that is not subject to the law of
change.
ASTA.
[_Softly and tremblingly._] But if that relation were not——
ALLMERS.
Not——?
ASTA.
——not our relation?
ALLMERS.
[_Stares at her in astonishment._] Not ours? Why, what can you mean by
that?
ASTA.
It is best I should tell you at once, Alfred.
ALLMERS.
Yes, yes; tell me!
ASTA.
The letters to mother——. Those in my portfolio——
ALLMERS.
Well?
ASTA.
You must read them—when I am gone.
ALLMERS.
Why must I?
ASTA.
[_Struggling with herself._] For then you will see that——
ALLMERS.
Well?
ASTA.
—that I have no right to bear your father’s name.
ALLMERS.
[_Staggering backwards._] Asta! What is this you say!
ASTA.
Read the letters. Then you will see—and understand. And perhaps have
some forgiveness—for mother, too.
ALLMERS.
[_Clutching at his forehead._] I cannot grasp this—I cannot realise the
thought. You, Asta—you are not——
ASTA.
You are not my brother, Alfred.
ALLMERS.
[_Quickly, half defiantly, looking at her._] Well, but what difference
does that really make in our relation? Practically none at all.
ASTA.
[_Shaking her head._] It makes all the difference, Alfred. Our relation
is not that of brother and sister.
ALLMERS.
No, no. But it is none the less sacred for that—it will always be
equally sacred.
ASTA.
Do not forget—that it is subject to the law of change, as you said just
now.
ALLMERS.
[_Looks inquiringly at her._] Do you mean that——
ASTA.
[_Quietly, but with warm emotion._] Not a word more—my dear, dear
Alfred. [_Takes up the flowers from the chair._] Do you see these
water-lilies?
ALLMERS.
[_Nodding slowly._] They are the sort that shoot up—from the very depth.
ASTA.
I pulled them in the tarn—where it flows out into the fiord. [_Holds
them out to him._] Will you take them, Alfred?
ALLMERS.
[_Taking them._] Thanks.
ASTA.
[_With tears in her eyes._] They are a last greeting to you, from—from
little Eyolf.
ALLMERS.
[_Looking at her._] From Eyolf out yonder? Or from you?
ASTA.
[_Softly._] From both of us. [_Taking up her umbrella._] Now come with
me to Rita.
[_She goes up the wood-path._
ALLMERS.
[_Takes up his hat from the table, and whispers sadly._] Asta. Eyolf.
Little Eyolf——!
[_He follows her up the path._
ACT THIRD
_An elevation, overgrown with shrubs, in ALLMERS’S garden. At the back a
sheer cliff, with a railing along its edge, and with steps on the
left leading downwards. An extensive view over the fiord, which
lies deep below. A flagstaff with lines, but no flag, stands by
the railing. In front, on the right, a summer-house, covered with
creepers and wild vines. Outside it, a bench. It is a late summer
evening, with clear sky. Deepening twilight._
_ASTA is sitting on the bench, with her hands in her lap. She is wearing
her outdoor dress and a hat, has her parasol at her side, and a
little travelling-bag on a strap over her shoulder._
_BORGHEIM comes up from the back on the left. He, too, has a
travelling-bag over his shoulder. He is carrying a rolled-up
flag._
BORGHEIM.
[_Catching sight of ASTA._] Oh, so you are up here!
ASTA.
Yes, I am taking my last look out over the fiord.
BORGHEIM.
Then I am glad I happened to come up.
ASTA.
Have you been searching for me?
BORGHEIM.
Yes, I have. I wanted to say good-bye to you—for the present. Not for
good and all, I hope.
ASTA.
[_With a faint smile._] You are persevering.
BORGHEIM.
A road-maker has got to be.
ASTA.
Have you seen anything of Alfred? Or of Rita?
BORGHEIM.
Yes, I saw them both.
ASTA.
Together?
BORGHEIM.
No—apart.
ASTA.
What are you going to do with that flag?
BORGHEIM.
Mrs. Allmers asked me to come up and hoist it.
ASTA.
Hoist a flag just now?
BORGHEIM.
Half-mast high. She wants it to fly both night and day, she says.
ASTA.
[_Sighing._] Poor Rita! And poor Alfred!
BORGHEIM.
[_Busied with the flag._] Have you the heart to leave them? I ask,
because I see you are in travelling-dress.
ASTA.
[_In a low voice._] I _must_ go.
BORGHEIM.
Well, if you must, then——
ASTA.
And you are going, too, to-night?
BORGHEIM.
I must, too. I am going by the train. Are you going that way?
ASTA.
No. I shall take the steamer.
BORGHEIM.
[_Glancing at her._] We each take our own way, then?
ASTA.
Yes.
[_She sits and looks on while he hoists the flag half-mast high.
When he has done he goes up to her._
BORGHEIM.
Miss Asta——you can’t think how grieved I am about little Eyolf.
ASTA.
[_Looks up at him._] Yes, I am sure you feel it deeply.
BORGHEIM.
And the feeling tortures me. For the fact is, grief is not much in my
way.
ASTA.
[_Raising her eyes to the flag._] It will pass over in time—all of it.
All our sorrow.
BORGHEIM.
All? Do you believe that?
ASTA.
Like a squall at sea. When once you have got far away from here, then——
BORGHEIM.
It will have to be very far away indeed.
ASTA.
And then you have this great new road-work, too.
BORGHEIM.
But no one to help me in it.
ASTA.
Oh yes, surely you have.
BORGHEIM.
[_Shaking his head._] No one. No one to share the gladness with. For it
is gladness that most needs sharing.
ASTA.
Not the labour and trouble?
BORGHEIM.
Pooh—that sort of thing one can always get through alone.
ASTA.
But the gladness—that must be shared with some one, you think?
BORGHEIM.
Yes; for if not, where would be the pleasure in being glad?
ASTA.
Ah yes—perhaps there is something in that.
BORGHEIM.
Oh, of course, for a certain time you can go on feeling glad in your own
heart. But it won’t do in the long run. No, it takes two to be glad.
ASTA.
Always two? Never more? Never many?
BORGHEIM.
Well, you see—then it becomes a quite different matter. Miss Asta—are
you sure you can never make up your mind to share gladness and success
and—and labour and trouble, with one—with one alone in all the world?
ASTA.
I have tried it—once.
BORGHEIM.
Have you?
ASTA.
Yes, all the time that my brother—that Alfred and I lived together.
BORGHEIM.
Oh, with your brother, yes. But that is altogether different. That ought
rather to be called peace than happiness, I should say.
ASTA.
It was delightful, all the same.
BORGHEIM.
There now—you see even that seemed to you delightful. But just think
now—if he had not been your brother!
ASTA.
[_Makes a movement to rise, but remains sitting._] Then we should never
have been together. For I was a child then—and he wasn’t much more.
BORGHEIM.
[_After a pause._] _Was_ it so delightful—that time?
ASTA.
Oh yes, indeed it was.
BORGHEIM.
Was there much that was really bright and happy in your life then?
ASTA.
Oh yes, so much. You cannot think how much.
BORGHEIM.
Tell me a little about it, Miss Asta.
ASTA.
Oh, there are only trifles to tell.
BORGHEIM.
Such as——? Well?
ASTA.
Such as the time when Alfred had passed his examination—and had
distinguished himself. And then, from time to time, when he got a post
in some school or other. Or when he would sit at home working at an
article—and would read it aloud to me. And then when it would appear in
some magazine.
BORGHEIM.
Yes, I can quite see that it must have been a peaceful, delightful
life—a brother and sister sharing all their joys. [_Shaking his head._]
What I cannot understand is that your brother could ever give you up,
Asta.
ASTA.
[_With suppressed emotion._] Alfred married, you know.
BORGHEIM.
Was not that very hard for you?
ASTA.
Yes, at first. It seemed as though I had utterly lost him all at once.
BORGHEIM.
Well, luckily it was not so bad as that.
ASTA.
No.
BORGHEIM.
But, all the same—how could he! Go and marry, I mean—when he could have
kept you with him, alone!
ASTA.
[_Looking straight in front of her._] He was subject to the law of
change, I suppose.
BORGHEIM.
The law of change?
ASTA.
So Alfred calls it.
BORGHEIM.
Pooh—what a stupid law that must be! I don’t believe a bit in that law.
ASTA.
[_Rising._] You may come to believe in it, in time.
BORGHEIM.
Never in all my life! [_Insistently._] But listen now, Miss Asta! Do be
reasonable—for once in a way—in this matter, I mean——
ASTA.
[_Interrupting him._] Oh, no, no—don’t let us begin upon _that_ again!
BORGHEIM.
[_Continuing as before._] Yes, Asta—I can’t possibly give you up so
easily. Now your brother has everything as he wishes it. He can live his
life quite contentedly without you. He doesn’t require you at all. Then
this—this—that at one blow has changed your whole position here——
ASTA.
[_With a start._] What do you mean by that?
BORGHEIM.
The loss of the child. What else should I mean?
ASTA.
[_Recovering her self-control._] Little Eyolf is gone, yes.
BORGHEIM.
And what more does that leave you to do here? You have not the poor
little boy to take care of now. You have no duties—no claims upon you of
any sort.
ASTA.
Oh, please, Mr. Borgheim—don’t make it so hard for me.
BORGHEIM.
I must; I should be mad if I did not try my uttermost. I shall be
leaving town before very long, and perhaps I shall have no opportunity
of meeting you there. Perhaps I shall not see you again for a long, long
time. And who knows what may happen in the meanwhile?
ASTA.
[_With a grave smile._] So you are afraid of the law of change, after
all?
BORGHEIM.
No, not in the least. [_Laughing bitterly._] And there is nothing to be
changed, either—not in you, I mean. For I can see you don’t care much
about me.
ASTA.
You know very well that I do.
BORGHEIM.
Perhaps, but not nearly enough. Not as I want you to. [_More forcibly._]
By Heaven, Asta—Miss Asta—I cannot tell you how strongly I feel that you
are wrong in this! A little onward, perhaps, from to-day and tomorrow,
all life’s happiness may be awaiting us. And we must needs pass it by!
Do you think we will not come to repent of it, Asta?
ASTA.
[_Quietly._] I don’t know. I only know that they are not for us—all
these bright possibilities.
BORGHEIM.
[_Looks at her with self-control._] Then I must make my roads alone?
ASTA.
[_Warmly._] Oh, how I wish I could stand by you in it all! Help you in
the labour—share the gladness with you——
BORGHEIM.
Would you—if you could?
ASTA.
Yes, that I would.
BORGHEIM.
But you cannot?
ASTA.
[_Looking down._] Would you be content to have only half of me?
BORGHEIM.
No. You must be utterly and entirely mine.
ASTA.
[_Looks at him, and says quietly._] Then I cannot.
BORGHEIM.
Good-bye then, Miss Asta.
[_He is on the point of going. ALLMERS comes up from the left at the
back. BORGHEIM stops._
ALLMERS.