Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 9).djvu/334

 him on the way home, the night before last. Ten years ago he had no beard, you said. He was quite differently dressed too And the breast-pin with the pearl in it? He wore nothing of the sort yesterday.

Ellida.

No, he didn't.

Wangel.

[Looks intently at her.] Now think a little, dear Ellida. Perhaps you cannot remember now what he looked like when you parted from him at Bratthammer?

Ellida.

[Reflectively, closing her eyes for a moment.] Not quite distinctly. No—I can't at all to-day. Isn't that strange?

Wangel.

Not so very strange. A new and real figure has presented itself to you, and that obscures the old one—so that you can no longer see it.

Ellida.

Do you think so, Wangel?

Wangel.

Yes; and it obscures your morbid illusions too; so it is a good thing the reality has shown itself.

Ellida.

Good! Do you call it a good thing?

Wangel.

Yes; its coming—may be your salvation.