Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/54



[With a shriek.] Papa—look! look!

Good Heavens, Eyolf!

What's the matter?

[Pointing.] There's something wriggling in the bag!

[At the extreme left, shrieks.] Ugh! Send her away, Alfred.

[Laughing.] Oh, dearest lady, you needn't be frightened of such a little mannikin.

But what is the thing?

Why, it's only little Mopsëman. [''Loosening the string of the bag.''] Come up out of the dark, my own little darling friend.

[''A little dog with a broad black snout pokes its head out of the bag.

[Nodding and beckoning to ] Come along, don't be afraid, my little wounded warrior! He won't bite. Come here! Come here!