Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 5).djvu/210

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I see, I see. We must take note, Oribases!

[Laughing softly.] Now he would be taking notes again.—Ink on his fingers; book-dust in his hair—unwashed; faugh, faugh, how he stinks.

My lord, shall I not?

Away with you, woman!

How could you let yourself be conquered by him, you great-limbed, bronzed barbarian? He cannot conquer women. How I loathe this impotent virtue.

Stand apart, all of you! Not so near, Oribases! I myself will watch the Princess.

Art thou wroth with me, thou glorious one? Gallus is dead. Beheaded. What a blow that must have been! Be not jealous, oh my first and last? Burn Gallus in hell fire;—it was none but thou, thou, thou!

No nearer, Oribases!

Kill the priest, too! I will not see him after