Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/204



[Looking at her.] This must be a terrible life, Gunhild.

Worse than terrible—almost unendurable.

Yes, it must be.

Always to hear his footsteps up there—from early morning till far into the night. And everything sounds so clear in this house!

Yes, it is strange how clear the sound is.

I often feel as if I had a sick wolf pacing his cage up there in the gallery, right over my head. [Listens and whispers.] Hark! Do you hear! Backwards and forwards, up and down, goes the wolf.

[Tentatively.] Is no change possible, Gunhild?

[With a gesture of repulsion.] He has never made any movement towards a change.

Could you not make the first movement, then?