Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/116



We troll-folk, my son, are less black than we're painted; That's another distinction between you and us.— But the serious part of the meeting is over; Now let us gladden our ears and our eyes. Music-maid, forth! Set the Dovrë-harp sounding! Dancing-maid, forth! Tread the Dovrë-hall's floor! [Music and a dance.

How like you it?

Like it? H'm

Speak without fear! What see you?

Why something unspeakably grim: A bell-cow with her hoof on a gut-harp strumming. A sow in socklets a-trip to the tune.

Eat him!

His sense is but human, remember!

Hu, tear away both his ears and his eyes!