Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/194

 And then I can always withdraw again. I'm in no way bound; it's a simple matter—; The whole thing is private, so to speak; I can go as I came; there's my horse ready saddled; I am master, in short, of the situation.

[Approaching the tent-door.]

Prophet and Master!

What would my slave?

The sons of the desert await at thy tent-door; They pray for the light of thy countenance

Stop! Say in the distance I'd have them assemble; Say from the distance I hear all their prayers. Add that I suffer no menfolk in here! Men, my child, are a worthless crew,— Inveterate rascals you well may call them! Anitra, you can't think how shamelessly They have swindI mean they have sinned, my child!— Well, enough now of that; you may dance for me, damsels! The Prophet would banish the memories that gall him.

[Dancing.]

The Prophet is good! The Prophet is grieving For the ill that the sons of the dust have wrought!