Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/172

 on over the heights and between the peaks—and then down again on the other side of the lake.

Oh, and you lost yourself, Alfred!

Yes; I mistook the direction—for there was no path or track. And all day I went on—and all the next night. And at last I thought I should never see the face of man again.

Not come home to us? Oh, then, I am sure your thoughts were with us here.

No—they were not.

Not?

No. It was so strange. Both you and Eyolf seemed to have drifted far, far away from me—and Asta, too.

Then what did you think of?

I did not think. I dragged myself along among the precipices—and rejoiced in the peace and luxury of death.