Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/445

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I will make a pilgrimage to the place where my soul and my child's soul lie buried.

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[Uneasy and alarmed.] You must never see that statue again! Do you hear, Irene! I implore you—! Never, never see it again!

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Perhaps you think it would mean death to me a second time?

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[Clenching his hands together.] Oh, I don't know what I think.—But how could I ever imagine that you would fix your mind so immovably on that statue? You, who went away from me—before it was completed.

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It was completed. That was why I could go away from you—and leave you alone.

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[Sits with his elbows upon his knees rocking his head from side to side, with his hands before his eyes.] It was not what it afterwards became.

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[Quietly but quick as lightning, half-unsheathes a narrow-bladed sharp knife which she carries in her breast, and asks in a hoarse whis-