Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/113



Perhaps not always.

Towards father, do you mean?

Yes.

I never noticed that.

[Struggling with her tears, rises.] Oh, my dear Alfred—let them rest—those who are gone. [She goes towards the right.

[Rising.] Yes, let them rest. [''Wringing his hands.''] But those who are gone—it is they that won't let us rest, Asta. Neither day nor night.

[Looks warmly at him.] Time will make it all seem easier, Alfred.

[Looking helplessly at her.] Yes, don't you think it will?—But how I am to get over these terrible first days [Hoarsely.]—that is what I cannot imagine.

[Imploringly, laying her hands on his shoulders.] Go up to Rita. Oh, please do