Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/64



Rita,—you must not think it was the doctor's advice that drove me up to the mountains.

Was it not, Alfred?

What was it, then?

It was this: I found there was no more peace for me, there in my study.

No peace! Why, who disturbed you?

[Shaking his head.] No one from without. But I felt as though I were positively abusing—or, say rather, wasting—my best powers—frittering away the time.

[With wide eyes.] When you were writing at your book?

[Nodding.] For I cannot think that my powers are confined to that alone. I must surely have it in me to do one or two other things as well.

Was that what you sat there brooding over?