Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/97

 Hu! What a scream! It's the nixie or droug! Peer! Peer!—Up there on that hillock!

[''She runs to the top of a little rise, and looks out over the tarn. and come up.''

Not a sign to be seen!

[Quietly.]

It is worst for him!

[Weeping.]

Oh, my Peer! Oh, my own lost lamb!

[Nods mildly.]

You may well say lost.

Oh no, don't talk like that! He is so clever. There's no one like him.

You foolish woman!

Oh ay; oh ay; Foolish I am, but the boy's all right!

[Still softly and with mild eyes.]

His heart is hardened, his soul is lost.