Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/123



[Looking scornfully at him.] We? Oh, the truth is you have never had any real love for him either.

[Looks at her in astonishment] I have not!

No, you have not. At first you were so utterly taken up by that book of yours—about Responsibility.

[Forcibly.] Yes, I was. But my very book—I sacrificed for Eyolf's sake.

Not out of love for him.

Why then, do you suppose?

Because you were consumed with mistrust of yourself. Because you had begun to doubt whether you had any great vocation to live for in the world.

[Observing her closely.] Could you see that in me?

Oh, yes—little by little. And then you needed something new to fill up your life.—It seems I was not enough for you any longer.