Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/271



[Screams.]

Cross not! Deep Rolls between us the abyss, Where the mountain-torrents sweep!

[Tenderly.]

Thou dost dream not, neither sleep, Nor with phantoms wagest war; Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,— Frenzy's bitter cup hast tasted, Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.

Oh, thou livest! Blessed be!

[Hastily.]

Peace! Of that no murmur now! Follow fast, the moments press.

Oh, but Alf!

Alive, no less.

Lives!

And with unfaded brow! All thy sorrows did but seem! All thy battles were a dream, Alf is with thy mother; she Vigorous yet, and stalwart he; Still the old Church stands entire; Pluck it down if thou desire;—