Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 6).djvu/192

 Madam Rundholmen.

And a fine young man?

Stensgård.

Just so; now, answer me

Madam Rundholmen.

Mr. Stensgård, you can't be in earnest?

Stensgård.

You don't suppose I would jest on such a subject? Should you be disposed?

Madam Rundholmen.

Yes, that I am, the Lord knows! Oh, you dear, sweet

Stensgård.

[Recoiling a step.] What is this?

Madam Rundholmen.

Bother, here comes some one!

Ragna Monsen enters hastily, and in evident disquietude, from the back.

Ragna.

I beg your pardon—isn't my father here?

Madam Rundholmen.

Your father? Yes; no;—I—I don't know—excuse me

Ragna.

Where is he?

Madam Rundholmen.

Your father? Oh, he drove past here