Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/103



Trembled! At what!

For Alf.

For Alf?

And so have you!

At times. But no, God takes him not! God's merciful! My child shall grow To be a strong man yet, I know. Where is he now?

He's sleeping.

[Looks in through the door.]

See; Of pain and grief he dreams not, he; The little hand is plump and round

Yet pale.

But that will pass.

How deep, Restful and quickening is his sleep.

God bless thee; in thy sleep grow sound!

[Shuts the door.]