Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/369



[Short, repellently.] All the world knows nothing! Understands nothing!

Well, at any rate it can divine something

Something that isn't there at all, yes. Something that never was in my mind. Ah yes, that they can all go into ecstasies over! [''Growling to himself.''] What is the good of working oneself to death for the mob and the masses—for "all the world"!

Do you think it is better, then—do you think it is worthy of you, to do nothing at all but a portrait-bust now and then?

[With a sly smile.] They are not exactly portrait-busts that I turn out, Maia.

Yes, indeed they are—for the last two or three years—ever since you finished your great group and got it out of the house

All the same, they are no mere portrait-busts, I assure you.