HILDA.
Yes, it’s more thrilling here.—Have you just been having a bathe?
ARNHOLM.
Precisely. I’ve come straight from the bathing-house.
HILDA.
I suppose you kept within the enclosure?
ARNHOLM.
Yes, I’m no great swimmer.
HILDA.
Can you swim on your back?
ARNHOLM.
No.
HILDA.
I can. [_To_ LYNGSTRAND.] Let us try over there on the other side.
[_They skirt the pond, out to the right._
ARNHOLM.
[_Advances to_ BOLETTA.] You are all alone, Boletta?
BOLETTA.
Oh yes, I generally am.
ARNHOLM.
Is not your mother in the garden?
BOLETTA.
No; I think she is out walking with father.
ARNHOLM.
How is she this afternoon?
BOLETTA.
I don’t quite know. I forgot to ask.
ARNHOLM.
What are the books you have there?
BOLETTA.
Oh, one is a botanical book, and the other a descriptive geography.
ARNHOLM.
Are you fond of that kind of reading?
BOLETTA.
Yes, when I can find time for it——But of course the housekeeping must
come first.
ARNHOLM.
But does not your mother—your stepmother—help you with that?
BOLETTA.
No, it is my work. I had to look after it during the two years father
was alone; and so it has continued ever since.
ARNHOLM.
But you are as fond as ever of reading?
BOLETTA.
Yes, I read all the useful books I can get hold of. One wants to know a
little about the world. Here we live so entirely outside of
everything,—or almost entirely.
ARNHOLM.
No, my dear Boletta, don’t say that.
BOLETTA.
But I do say so. I don’t see much difference between our life and the
life of the carp in the pond there. They have the fiord close beside
them, where the great free shoals of fish sweep out and in. But the poor
tame house-fishes know nothing of all that; and they can never join in.
ARNHOLM.
I don’t think it would agree with them at all if they did get out into
the fiord.
BOLETTA.
Oh, they might take their chance of _that_, I should think.
ARNHOLM.
Besides, you can’t say that you are so utterly out of the world here.
Not in summer, at all events. This place is a sort of local centre,
nowadays, in the life of the world—a point of convergence for many
passing streams.
BOLETTA.
[_Smiling_.] Oh, you are in the passing stream yourself; it is easy for
you to make game of us.
ARNHOLM.
I make game——? What puts that into your head?
BOLETTA.
Why, all this about a centre, and a point of convergence for the life of
the world, is simply what you have heard people say in the town. They
are always talking like that.
ARNHOLM.
Yes, frankly, I have noticed as much.
BOLETTA.
But there’s really not a word of truth in it, you know—not for us who
live here constantly. What is it to us that the great outside world
passes our doors on its way to the midnight sun? We cannot join in the
stream. There is no midnight sun for _us_. Oh no; we must be content to
linger our lives out, here in our carp-pond.
ARNHOLM.
[_Seats himself besides her._] Tell me now, dear Boletta—I wonder if
there is not something or other,—some particular thing I mean—that you
are all the time longing for, here at home?
BOLETTA.
Well, perhaps there may be.
ARNHOLM.
Then what is it? What are you longing for?
BOLETTA.
Chiefly to get away.
ARNHOLM.
That before everything?
BOLETTA.
Yes. And next to learn a little more; to gain some real insight into
things in general.
ARNHOLM.
When I used to read with you, your father often said that he would let
you go to college.
BOLETTA.
Oh yes, poor father,—he says so many things. But when it comes to the
point, then——. There is no real energy in father.
ARNHOLM.
No, unfortunately—I suppose there is not. But have you ever talked to
him about this? Put serious pressure on him, I mean?
BOLETTA.
No, I can’t say that I have.
ARNHOLM.
Well now really, Boletta, you ought to do so, before it is too late. Why
don’t you?
BOLETTA.
Oh, because there is no real energy in me either, I suppose. I probably
take after father in that.
ARNHOLM.
H’m—I wonder whether you don’t do yourself injustice there?
BOLETTA.
Oh no, I’m sorry to say. And then father has so little time to think
about me and my future—and not much inclination either. He puts things
of that sort aside as much as he can; he is so entirely taken up with
Ellida——
ARNHOLM.
With whom——? How——?
BOLETTA.
I mean that he and my stepmother——[_Breaking off._] Father and mother
lead a life of their own, you see.
ARNHOLM.
Well, so much the more reason for you to see about getting away.
BOLETTA.
Yes, but at the same time I don’t feel as if I had the right to go
away—to leave father.
ARNHOLM.
But, my dear Boletta, you will have to leave him some time, in any case;
and since that is so, why delay——?
BOLETTA.
Yes, I suppose there is nothing else for it. Of course I ought to think
of myself too, and try to find a position of some sort. When once father
is gone I shall have no one to depend on.—But poor father,—I dread the
thought of leaving him.
ARNHOLM.
Dread——?
BOLETTA.
Yes, for his own sake.
ARNHOLM.
But, bless me, what about your stepmother? She will still be with him.
BOLETTA.
Yes, that’s true. But she is not at all fitted for all that mother knew
so well how to do. There are so many things she doesn’t see—or perhaps
_will_ not see—or trouble herself about. I don’t know which way to put
it.
ARNHOLM.
H’m,—I think I understand what you mean?
BOLETTA.
Poor father,—he is weak in certain ways. I daresay you have noticed that
yourself. You see he hasn’t enough work to fill up his whole time; and
then she is quite incapable of being any support to him.—That is partly
his own fault, however.
ARNHOLM.
How so?
BOLETTA.
Oh, father always likes to see cheerful faces around him; there must be
sunshine and contentment in the house, he says. So I am afraid he often
lets her have medicine that does her no good in the long run.
ARNHOLM.
Do you really think so?
BOLETTA.
Yes, I can’t get rid of the idea. She is so strange at times.
[_Vehemently._] But it does seem hard, does it not, that I should have
to stay on at home here? It does not in reality help father at all; and
I can’t but feel that I have duties towards myself too.
ARNHOLM.
I’ll tell you what, my dear Boletta,—we must talk all this over more
thoroughly.
BOLETTA.
Oh, that won’t help much; I daresay I was created to pass my life here
in the carp-pond.
ARNHOLM.
Not at all. It depends entirely upon yourself.
BOLETTA.
[_Eagerly._] Do you think so?
ARNHOLM.
Yes, believe me; it lies wholly and solely in your own hands.
BOLETTA.
Oh, if it only did——! Do you mean that you will put in a good word for
me with father?
ARNHOLM.
I will do that too. But first of all I want to speak frankly and without
reserve to you yourself, my dear Boletta. [_Looks out to the left._]
Hush! Let no one notice anything; we’ll finish our talk by-and-by.
ELLIDA _enters from the left. She wears no hat, but has a light
shawl thrown over her head and shoulders._
ELLIDA.
[_With nervous animation._] How nice it is here! How delightful!
ARNHOLM.
[_Rising._] Have you been out walking?
ELLIDA.
Yes, a long, long splendid walk with Wangel. And now we are going out
for a sail.
BOLETTA.
Won’t you sit down?
ELLIDA.
No thank you; I couldn’t sit.
BOLETTA.
[_Moving along the bench._] There’s plenty of room.
ELLIDA.
[_Walking about._] No no no, I couldn’t sit; I couldn’t sit.
ARNHOLM.
Your walk has surely done you good; it seems to have exhilarated you.
ELLIDA.
Oh, I feel so thoroughly well. I feel so unspeakably happy! So safe! So
safe——[_Looks out to the left._] What large steamer is that coming in?
BOLETTA.
[_Rises and looks out._] It must be the big English boat.
ARNHOLM.
They are mooring her to the buoy. Does she generally stop here?
BOLETTA.
Only for half an hour; she goes farther up the fiord.
ELLIDA.
And then outward again—to-morrow; out on the great open sea; right over
the sea. Think of going with her! If one only could! If one only could!
ARNHOLM.
Have you never taken a long sea-voyage, Mrs. Wangel?
ELLIDA.
Never in my life; only little trips in the fiords.
BOLETTA.
[_With a sigh._] Oh no, we have to put up with the dry land.
ARNHOLM.
Well, at any rate, that is our natural element.
ELLIDA.
No, I don’t think so at all.
ARNHOLM.
Not dry land?
ELLIDA.
No, I don’t believe it. I believe that if men had only accustomed
themselves from the first to live their life on the sea—or even in the
sea—we should by this time have been far more perfect than we are;—both
better and happier.
ARNHOLM.
Do you really believe that?
ELLIDA.
Well, at any rate, it is a theory of mine. I have often talked of it
with Wangel.
ARNHOLM.
Indeed! And he——?
ELLIDA.
Oh, he thinks there may be something in it.
ARNHOLM.
[_Joking._] Well, who knows? But what’s done is done. We have once for
all taken the wrong turning and become land animals instead of sea
animals. All things considered, I’m afraid it is too late now to rectify
the error.
ELLIDA.
Yes, that is the mournful truth. And I believe people have an
instinctive feeling of it themselves—it haunts them like a secret sorrow
and regret. Believe me, this lies at the very root of the melancholy of
mankind. I am sure it does.
ARNHOLM.
But my dear Mrs. Wangel,—I have never noticed that people are so
profoundly melancholy. I should say, on the contrary, that most people
take life cheerfully and lightly—with a great, calm, unconscious joy.
ELLIDA.
Oh no, that is not so. That joy—it is just like our joy in the long,
light summer days. It has in it the foreboding of the darkness to come.
And this foreboding casts its shadow over the joy of mankind,—just as
the driving scud casts its shadow over the fiord. There it lies all blue
and shining; and then all of a sudden——
BOLETTA.
You shouldn’t let yourself dwell on such sad thoughts. You were so
bright and cheerful a moment ago——
ELLIDA.
Yes yes, so I was. All this is—it’s so stupid of me. [_Looks uneasily
around._] If only Wangel would come down here. He promised me so
faithfully; and yet he doesn’t come. He must have forgotten. Dear Mr.
Arnholm, won’t you go and find him for me?
ARNHOLM.
Yes, with pleasure.
ELLIDA.
Tell him that he really must come at once; for now I cannot see him——
ARNHOLM.
Not see him——?
ELLIDA.
Oh, you don’t understand me. When he is not present, I often can’t
remember what he looks like; and then it seems as though I had lost him
utterly.—It’s so terribly painful. Do go!
[_She wanders over in the direction of the pond._
BOLETTA.
[_To_ ARNHOLM.] I will go with you; you don’t know——
ARNHOLM.
Oh don’t trouble; I shall manage——
BOLETTA.
[_In an undertone._] No no, I am uneasy. I’m afraid he is on board the
steamer.
ARNHOLM.
Afraid?
BOLETTA.
Yes, he generally goes to see if there is any one he knows among the
passengers; and there’s a refreshment bar on board——
ARNHOLM.
Ah! Come along then.
[_He and_ BOLETTA _go out to the left._
[ELLIDA _stands awhile gazing into the pond. From time to
time she talks softly and in broken phrases to herself._
_Outside on the footpath, beyond the garden fence, a_ STRANGER _in
travelling dress enters from the left. He has bushy, reddish hair
and beard, wears a Scotch cap, and has a travelling-wallet slung
across his shoulder by a strap._
THE STRANGER.
[_Walks slowly along by the fence, and looks into the garden. When he
sees_ ELLIDA _he stops, looks intently and searchingly at her, and says
softly_:] Good evening, Ellida!
ELLIDA.
[_Turns round and cries out._] Oh my dear—have you come at last!
THE STRANGER.
Yes, at last.
ELLIDA.
[_Looks at him, astonished and apprehensive._] Who are you? Are you
looking for some one here?
THE STRANGER.
You know I am.
ELLIDA.
[_Taken aback._] What is this? How strangely you speak to me![20] Who is
it you are looking for?
THE STRANGER.
You know I am looking for you.
ELLIDA.
[_Starts._] Ah——! [_Gazes at him a moment, staggers backwards, and
breaks out into a half-smothered shriek._] The eyes!—The eyes!
THE STRANGER.
Well,—are you beginning to recognise me at last? I knew you at once,
Ellida.
ELLIDA.
The eyes. Don’t look at me like that! I will call for help.
THE STRANGER.
Hush, hush! Don’t be afraid. I will do you no harm.
ELLIDA.
[_Holds her hands over her eyes._] Don’t look at me like that, I say!
THE STRANGER.
[_Leans his arms upon the garden fence._] I came with the English
steamer.
ELLIDA.
[_Glances shrinkingly at him._] What do you want with me?
THE STRANGER.
I promised I would come again, as soon as I could——
ELLIDA.
Go! Go away again! Never—never come here any more! I wrote to you that
everything must be at end between us! Everything! You know I did!
THE STRANGER.
[_Unmoved, without answering._] I wanted to come to you sooner, but I
could not. At last I saw my way; and here I am, Ellida.
ELLIDA.
What do you want with me? What are you thinking of? What have you come
here for?
THE STRANGER.
You know quite well that I have come to take you away.
ELLIDA.
[_Shrinking back in terror._] To take me away! Is _that_ what you
intend?
THE STRANGER.
Yes, of course.
ELLIDA.
But surely you know that I am married!
THE STRANGER.
Yes, I know it.
ELLIDA.
And yet——! In spite of that, you have come to—to—take me away!
THE STRANGER.
Yes, you see I have.
ELLIDA.
[_Presses both her hands to her head._] Oh this fearful——! Oh this
terror, this terror——!
THE STRANGER.
Perhaps you do not wish to come!
ELLIDA.
[_Beside herself._] Don’t look at me like that!
THE STRANGER.
Do you not wish to come, I ask?
ELLIDA.
No, no, no! I will not! Never to the end of time! I will not, I say! I
neither can, nor will! [_Lower._] I dare not, either.
THE STRANGER.
[_Climbs over the fence and comes into the garden._] Very well then,
Ellida—let me just say one single thing before I go.
ELLIDA.
[_Tries to escape, but cannot. She stands as if paralysed with fear, and
supports herself against a tree-trunk near the pond._] Do not touch me!
Do not come near me! Stay where you are! Do not touch me, I say!
THE STRANGER.
[_Cautiously, coming a step or two towards her._] You must not be so
afraid of me, Ellida.
ELLIDA.
[_Puts her hands before her eyes._] Do not look at me like that!
THE STRANGER.
Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.
DOCTOR WANGEL _comes through the garden from the left._
WANGEL.
[_Before he has quite emerged from among the trees._] Well, I’ve kept
you waiting a nice time.
ELLIDA.
[_Rushes to him, clings fast to his arm and cries._] Oh Wangel,—save me!
Save me—if you can!
WANGEL.
Ellida,—what in heaven’s name——!
ELLIDA.
Save me, Wangel! Don’t you see him? There he stands!
WANGEL.
[_Looks at the_ STRANGER.] That man there? [_Goes towards him._] Who are
_you_, may I ask? And why have you come into this garden?
THE STRANGER.
[_Indicates_ ELLIDA _by a nod._] I want to speak to _her_.
WANGEL.
Indeed. Then I suppose it was you——? [_To_ ELLIDA.] I hear a stranger
called at the house and asked for you.
THE STRANGER.
Yes, it was I.
WANGEL.
And what do you want with my wife? [_Turns._] Do you know him, Ellida?
ELLIDA.
[_Softly, wringing her hands._] Do I know him? Yes, yes, yes!
WANGEL.
[_Hastily._] Well?
ELLIDA.
Oh, it is _he_, Wangel! It is he himself! He,—you know——!
WANGEL.
What? What do you say? [_Turns._] Are you the man Johnston, who was——?
THE STRANGER.
Well—you can call me Johnston if you like. It is not my name though.
WANGEL.
Is it not?
THE STRANGER.
Not now, it isn’t.
WANGEL.
And what can you want with my wife? For of course you know that the
lighthouse keeper’s daughter has been married for years. And you must
know, too, who her husband is.
THE STRANGER.
I have known that for more than three years.
ELLIDA.
[_Eagerly._] How did you come to know it?
THE STRANGER.
I was on my way home to you. I came across an old newspaper—one from
these parts; and in it was the notice of your marriage.
ELLIDA.
[_Looking straight before her._] My marriage——So it was _that_——
THE STRANGER.
It came upon me very strangely. For the linking of the rings—that was a
marriage, too, Ellida.
ELLIDA.
[_Puts her hands before her face._] Oh——!
WANGEL.
How dare you——?
THE STRANGER.
Had you forgotten it?
ELLIDA.
[_Cries out, as though she felt his look._] Do not stand looking at me
like that!
WANGEL.
[_Confronting him._] Be so good as to address yourself to me, and not to
her. Briefly now—since you understand the situation—what can you have to
do here? Why do you come here and seek out my wife?
THE STRANGER.
I had promised Ellida that I would come to her as soon as I could.
WANGEL.
Ellida——! Again!
THE STRANGER.
And Ellida had promised faithfully to wait for me till I came.
WANGEL.
I observe that you call my wife by her first name. That sort of
familiarity is not usual here.
THE STRANGER.
I know that very well. But as she belongs first of all to _me_——
WANGEL.
To you! Still——!
ELLIDA.
[_Shrinks behind_ WANGEL.] Oh——! He will never set me free!
WANGEL.
To you! You say she belongs to you!
THE STRANGER.
Has she told you about the two rings? My ring and Ellida’s?
WANGEL.
Yes, certainly. But what then? She broke it off again afterwards. You
received her letters; so you know it perfectly well.
THE STRANGER.
Ellida and I were fully agreed that the linking of the rings was to be
in every way as valid and binding as a marriage.
ELLIDA.
But I refuse, I tell you! Never in this world will I have anything more
to do with you! Do not look at me like that! I will not, I tell you!
WANGEL.
You must be out of your senses if you think you can come here and found
any claim upon such a piece of child’s-play as that.
THE STRANGER.
That is true. In the way you mean, I have certainly no claim upon her.
WANGEL.
What do you want to do then? You cannot imagine that you can take her
from me by force,—against her own will!
THE STRANGER.
No. What would be the use of that? If Ellida is to be mine, she must
come of her own free will.
ELLIDA.
[_Starts and cries out._] Of my own free will——.
WANGEL.
And can you suppose——!
ELLIDA.
[_To herself._] My own free will——!
WANGEL.
You must be out of your mind. Take yourself off! We have nothing more to
do with you.
THE STRANGER.
[_Looks at his watch._] It will soon be time for me to go on board
again. [_Advances a step._] Well well, Ellida—now I have done what I had
to do. [_Still nearer._] I have kept the word I gave you.
ELLIDA.
[_Imploringly, shrinking away._] Oh, do not touch me!
THE STRANGER.
I give you till to-morrow night to think it over——
WANGEL.
There is nothing to think over. Leave this place at once!
THE STRANGER.
[_Still to_ ELLIDA.] I am going up the fiord in the steamer now;
to-morrow night I shall return, and then I will see you again. You must
wait for me here in the garden; for I prefer to settle the matter with
you alone, you understand.
ELLIDA.
[_Softly and trembling._] Oh, do you hear that, Wangel?
WANGEL.
Do not be alarmed. We shall find means to prevent this visit.
THE STRANGER.
Good-bye for the present, Ellida. To-morrow night then.
ELLIDA.
[_In a tone of entreaty._] Oh, no, no,—do not come to-morrow night!
Never come again!
THE STRANGER.
And if by that time you should be of a mind to come with me over the
sea——
ELLIDA.
Oh, do not look at me like that——
THE STRANGER.
I only mean that in that case you must be ready to start.
WANGEL.
Go into the house, Ellida.
ELLIDA.
I cannot. Oh, help me! Save me, Wangel!
THE STRANGER.
For you must remember this, that if you do not come with me to-morrow,
it will all be over.
ELLIDA.
[_Looks at him, trembling._] Will it all be over? For ever——?
THE STRANGER.
[_With a nod._] Beyond recall, Ellida! I shall never return to this
country; you will never see me any more, nor hear from me either. I
shall be as though dead and gone from you, for evermore.
ELLIDA.
[_Breathes uneasily._] Oh——!
THE STRANGER.
So think carefully what you do. Good-bye. [_He climbs over the fence,
stops, and says_:] Well, Ellida,—be ready to start to-morrow night; for
then I will come and take you away.
[_He goes slowly and calmly along the footpath and out to the
right._
ELLIDA.
[_Looks after him a while._] Of my own free will, he said! Think of
that—he said that I should go with him of my own free will.
WANGEL.
Be calm, be calm. He is gone now, and you shall never see him again.
ELLIDA.
Oh, how can you say that? He is coming again to-morrow night.
WANGEL.
Let him come; I will see that he does not meet you.
ELLIDA.
[_Shakes her head._] Oh Wangel, do not think that you can prevent him.
WANGEL.
Yes I can, dearest—rely upon me.
ELLIDA.
[_Musing, without listening to him._] When he has been here—to-morrow
night——? And when he has gone away in the steamer, over the sea——?
WANGEL.
Well, what then?
ELLIDA.
I wonder whether he will never—never come again?
WANGEL.
No, dear Ellida, you may feel absolutely secure on that point. What
could he do here after this? He has heard now, from your own lips, that
you will have nothing to do with him. That ends the whole thing.
ELLIDA.
[_To herself._] To-morrow then—or never.
WANGEL.
And even if he should take it into his head to come again——
ELLIDA.
[_Eagerly._] What then——?
WANGEL.
Why, we know how to make him harmless.
ELLIDA.
Oh, do not think that.
WANGEL.
We know what to do, I say! If nothing else will make him leave you in
peace, then he shall answer for the murder of the captain.
ELLIDA.
[_Vehemently._] No, no, no——! Never that! We know nothing about the
murder of the captain! Absolutely nothing!
WANGEL.
We know nothing! Why, he himself confessed it to you!
ELLIDA.
No, nothing about that! If you say anything, I will deny it. He shall
not be caged! His place is out on the open sea. That is his home.
WANGEL.
[_Looks at her and says slowly_:] Ah, Ellida—Ellida!
ELLIDA.
[_Clings to him passionately._] Oh dear one, faithful one—save me from
that man!
WANGEL.
[_Gently disengaging himself._] Come! Come with me!
LYNGSTRAND _and_ HILDA, _both with fishing-tackle, appear from
the right beside the pond._
LYNGSTRAND.
[_Goes rapidly towards_ ELLIDA.] Oh, what do you think, Mrs. Wangel—I
have something wonderful to tell you!
WANGEL.
What is it?
LYNGSTRAND.
Just fancy—we have seen the American!
WANGEL.
The American?
HILDA.
Yes, I saw him too.
LYNGSTRAND.
He went round by the back of the garden, and then on board the big
English steamer.
WANGEL.
Where have you known that man?
LYNGSTRAND.
I was at sea with him once. I was quite sure he was drowned; and here he
appears as large as life.
WANGEL.
Do you know anything more about him?
LYNGSTRAND.
No; but I’m sure he has come back to be revenged on his faithless wife.
WANGEL.
What do you mean?
HILDA.
Mr. Lyngstrand is going to make a statue of him.
WANGEL.
I don’t understand a word——
ELLIDA.
You shall hear all about it by-and-by.
ARNHOLM _and_ BOLETTA _enter from the left along the footpath
outside the garden fence._
BOLETTA.
[_To those in the garden._] Come and look! The English steamer is going
up the fiord.
[_A large steamer glides slowly past at some distance._
LYNGSTRAND.
[_To_ HILDA, _near the garden fence._] I am sure he will come down upon
her to-night.
HILDA.
[_Nods._] Upon his faithless wife—yes.
LYNGSTRAND.
Fancy,—just at midnight.
HILDA.
I think it will be thrilling.
ELLIDA.
[_Looking after the ship._] To-morrow then——
WANGEL.
And after that, never again.
ELLIDA.
[_Softly and trembling._] Oh Wangel—save me from myself.
WANGEL.
[_Looks anxiously at her._] Ellida! I feel it—there is something behind
all this.
ELLIDA.
All that allures is behind it.
WANGEL.
All that allures——?
ELLIDA.
That man is like the sea.
[_She goes slowly and in deep thought through the garden out to
the left._ WANGEL _walks uneasily by her side, observing her
intently._
-----
Footnote 20:
He has addressed her, as he does throughout, by the familiar
_du_—“thou.” She always uses the formal _De_ in speaking to him.
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ACT FOURTH.
_Garden-room at_ DR. WANGEL’S. _Doors right and left. In the back,
between the two windows, an open glass door leading out to the
verandah. A portion of the garden is seen below. A sofa and table
in front on the left. To the right a piano, and farther back a
large flower-stand. In the middle of the floor a round table with
chairs about it. On the table, a rose-bush in bloom, and other
plants in pots about the room. It is forenoon._
BOLETTA _is seated on the sofa by the table, left, working at a piece of
embroidery._ LYNGSTRAND _sits on a chair at the upper end of the
table._ BALLESTED _is seated in the garden, painting._ HILDA
_stands beside him, looking on._
LYNGSTRAND.
[_Sits silent awhile with his arms on the table, watching_ BOLETTA _at
work._] It must be very difficult to sew edging like that, Miss Wangel.
BOLETTA.
Oh no, it’s not so difficult, if only you are careful to count right——
LYNGSTRAND.
Count? Have you to count?