Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/146



By-the-bye, I forgot! You must rear your own youngster, you light-footed scamp! Little imp, will you go to your father?

[Spits at him.]

Faugh! I'll chop you with my hatchet; only wait, only wait!

[Kisses .]

What a head he has got on his shoulders, the dear! You'll be dad's living image when once you're a man!

[Stamping.]

Oh, would you were as far!

As we now are near?

[Clenching his hands.]

And all this!

For nothing but thoughts and desires! It is hard on you, Peer!

It is worst for another!— Solveig, my fairest, my purest gold!