Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/82



My wings are clipped. Even if you set me free—'twould avail me little.

Your wings are not clipped, save by your own will.

Will? My will is in your hands. Be what you once were, and I too

Enough, enough. Hear me further.—It would scarce break your heart to leave Östråt?

Maybe not, my mother!

You told me once, that you lived your happiest life in your tales and histories. What if that life were to be yours once more?

What mean you?

Elina—if a mighty noble were to come and lead you to his castle, where you should find damsels and squires, silken robes and lofty halls awaiting you?

A noble, you say?