Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/385



But if her mother chooses To spend a winter on her, she'll come out of it Queen of them all, I'll wager.

Not a doubt of it.

[laughing]. Young women are odd creatures, to be sure! [gaily]. Like winter rye-seed, canopied secure By frost and snow, invisibly they sprout. Then in the festive ball-room bedded out—   With equivoque and scandal for manure—    And when the April sun shines—                                     There the blade is; The seed shot up in mannikin green ladies! [ comes up and seizes hand.