Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/417

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[With attention.] Who is it that's not an artist?

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[Again in a sleepy tone.] Why, he—the other one, of course.

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The bear-hunter, you mean?

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Yes. There's not a bit of the artist about him—not the least little bit.

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[Smiling.] No, I believe there's no doubt about that.

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[Vehemently, without moving.] And so ugly as he is! [''Plucks up a tuft of heather and throws it away.''] So ugly, so ugly! Isch!

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Is that why you are so ready to set off with him—out into the wilds?

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[Curtly.] I don't know. [''Turning towards him.''] You are ugly, too, Rubek.

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Have you only just discovered it?