Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/179



[Softly.]

The Yule light! Ha!

[Putting them on the table.]

Have I been slow?

No, no.

Thou must be cold, Brand!

[Loudly.]

No

[Smiling, fills the stove.]

How stern! It is thy pride of will, That scorns the darkness and the chill.

[Walking up and down.]

H'm, Will!

[To herself as she decks the room.]

Here must the candles stand. Last year he stretch'd his tiny hand After the glancing, dancing light: He was so joyous and so bright; He started from his little chair, And ask'd me if a sun it were.

[Moves the candles a little.]

See! now the candle's glow falls—there!