Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/389



But how delightful that your little maids Should follow you to town.

Four tender blades We have besides.

Ah, really?

Three of whom Are still too infantine to take to heart A loving father's absence, when I come To town for sessions.

[to, bidding farewell].

Now I must depart.

O, it is still so early!

I must fly To town and spread the news. The Storms, I know, Go late to rest, they will be up; and oh! How glad the aunts will be! Now, dear, put by Your shyness; for to-morrow a spring-tide Of callers will flow in from every side!