Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 10).djvu/321

 Solness.

Never in this world—never. That is another consequence of the fire—and of Aline's illness afterwards.

Hilda.

[Looks at him with an indefinable expression.] And yet you build all these nurseries?

Solness.

[Seriously.] Have you never noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it seems to beckon and cry aloud to one?

Hilda.

[Reflecting.] The impossible? [With animation.] Yes, indeed! Is that how you feel too?

Solness.

Yes, I do.

Hilda.

Then there must be—a little of the troll in you too.

Solness.

Why of the troll?

Hilda.

What would you call it, then?

Solness.

[Rises.] Well, well, perhaps you are right. [Vehemently.] But how can I help turning into a troll, when this is how it always goes with me in everything—in everything!

Hilda.

How do you mean?