Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/109



Yes, for me it is impossible. Before you came to me, here I sat, torturing myself unspeakably with this crushing, gnawing sorrow

Yes?

And would you believe it, Asta? H'm

Well?

In the midst of all the agony, I found myself speculating what we should have for dinner to-day.

[Soothingly.] Well, well, if only it rests you to

Yes, just fancy, dear—it seemed as if it did give me rest. [''Holds out his hand to her across the table.''] How good it is, Asta, that I have you with me. I am so glad of that. Glad, glad—even in my sorrow.

[Looking earnestly at him.] You ought most of all to be glad that you have Rita.

Yes, of course I should. But Rita is no kin to me—it isn't like having a sister.