Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/208



Oh, thank you; I'll get on without the soul. But you asked for a sorrow

[Rising.]                                 Ay, curse me, I did! A keen one, but short,—to last two or three days! Anitra obeyeth the Prophet!—Farewell! [Gives him a smart cut across the fingers, and dashes off, at a tearing gallop, back across the desert.

[Stands for a long time thunderstruck.]  Well now, may I be! SCENE NINTH. The same place, an hour later.

'' is stripping off his Turkish costume, soberly and thoughtfully, bit by bit. Last of all, he takes his little travelling-cap out of his coat pocket, puts it on, and stands once more in European dress.''

[Throwing the turban far away from him.]

There lies the Turk, then, and here stand I!— These heathenish doings are no sort of good. It's lucky 'twas only a matter of clothes, And not, as the saying goes, bred in the bone.—