Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/195



Well?

[Takes a folded child's cap from her bosom.]        See, one I thought to hide— One! The cap? Yes, tear-bewet, Clammy with his mortal sweat, There in my beating bosom set! In thy idol-bonds abide. [Going.

Hold!

What wilt thou?

Thou dost know.

[Holds out the cap to him

[Approaches and asks, without taking it.]

Gladly given?

Gladly!

So. At the door she lingers yet. [Goes.