Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 2).djvu/105



Doubtless I must.

[A pause; paces up and down the hall, notices what  is doing, and approaches her.

What dost thou there?

[Without looking up.] I am twisting a bow-string; canst thou not see?

A bow-string—of thine own hair?

[Smiling.] Great deeds are born with every hour in these times; yesterday thou didst slay my foster-brother, and I have woven this since daybreak.

Hiördis, Hiördis!

[Looking up.] What is amiss?

Where wast thou last night?

Last night?

Thou wast not in the sleeping-room.

Know'st thou that?