Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 6).djvu/86

 Selma.

Perhaps—in a way.

Erik.

[Putting his arm round her waist.] But a new fairy-tale grows out of the old one, and in it the Princess becomes a Queen!

Selma.

On the same condition as real Princesses?

Erik.

What condition?

Selma.

They must go into exile—to a foreign kingdom.

Erik.

A cigar, Mr. Stensgård?

Stensgård.

Thank you, not just now.

Doctor Fieldbo and Thora enter from the garden.

Selma.

[Going towards them.] Is that you, Thora dear? I hope you're not ill?

Thora.

I? No.

Selma.

Oh, but I'm sure you must be; you seem to be always consulting the doctor of late.

Thora.

No, I assure you