Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/330



[Also listening.] It sounds like sledge-bells. [With a suppressed scream.] It is her sledge! Perhaps it's another. No, no, it is Mrs. Wilton's covered sledge! I know the silver bells! Hark! Now they are driving right past here, at the foot of the hill! [Quickly.] Gunhild, if you want to cry out to him, now is the time! Perhaps after all! [The tinkle of the bells sounds close at hand, in the wood.] Make haste, Gunhild! Now they are right under us! [Stands for a moment undecided, then she stiffens and says sternly and coldly.] No. I will not cry out to him. Let Erhart Borkman pass away from me—far, far away—to what he calls life and happiness. [The sound dies away in the distance.

[After a moment.] Now the bells are out of hearing.