Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/484



Yes.

We've been in constant feud; We've changed hard blows enough. You fought—alone— For a sublime ideal; I as one Among the money-grubbing multitude. And yet it seemed as if a chord united Us two, as if a thousand thoughts that lay Deep in my own youth's memory benighted Had started at your bidding into day. Yes, I amaze you. But this hair grey-sprinkled Once fluttered brown in spring-time, and this brow, Which daily occupation moistens now With sweat of labour, was not always wrinkled. Enough; I am a man of business, hence—

[with gentle sarcasm]. You are the type of practical good sense. And you are hope's own singer young and fain. [Stepping between them.

Just therefore, Falk and Svanhild, I am here. Now let us talk, then; for the hour is near Which brings good hap or sorrow in its train.

[in suspense].

Speak, then!