Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/364

 [after a short pause]. You gaze so at me! [half to himself]. Yes, 'tis there—the same; The shadow in her eyes' deep mirror sleeping, The roguish elf about her lips a-peeping, It is there. What? You frighten me. Your name Is Svanhild? Yes, you know it very well. But do you know the name is laughable? I beg you to discard it from to-night! That would be far beyond a daughter's right—  [laughing]. Hm. "Svanhild! Svanhild!" [With sudden gravity.

With your earliest breath How came you by this prophecy of death?