Wangel. The evening before last--up at the "View"--you said that during the last three years you had so often seen him bodily before you.
Ellida. And so I have. You may believe that.
Wangel. But, how did you see him?
Ellida. How did I see him?
Wangel. I mean, how did he look when you thought you saw him?
Ellida. But, dear Wangel, why, you now know yourself how he looks.
Wangel. Did he look exactly like that in your imagination?
Ellida. He did.
Wangel. Exactly the same as you saw him in reality yesterday evening?
Ellida. Yes, exactly.
Wangel. Then how was it you did not at once recognise him?
Ellida. Did I not?
Wangel. No; you said yourself afterwards that at first you did not at all know who the strange man was.
Ellida (perplexed). I really believe you are right. Don't you think that strange, Wangel? Fancy my not knowing him at once!
Wangel. It was only the eyes, you said.
Ellida. Oh, yes! The eyes--the eyes.
Wangel. Well, but at the "View" you said that he always appeared to you exactly as he was when you parted out there--ten years ago.
Ellida. Did I?
Wangel. Yes.
Ellida. Then, I suppose he did look much as he does now.
Wangel. No. On our way home, the day before yesterday, you gave quite another description of him. Ten years ago he had no beard, you said. His dress, too, was quite different. And that breast-pin with the pearl? That man yesterday wore nothing of the sort.
Ellida. No, he did not.
Wangel (looks searchingly at her). Now just think a little, dear Ellida. Or perhaps you can't quite remember how he looked when he stood by you at Bratthammer?
Ellida (thoughtfully closing her eyes for a moment). Not quite distinctly. No, today I can't. Is it not strange?
Wangel. Not so very strange after all. You have now been confronted by a new and real image, and that overshadows the old one, so that you can no longer see it.
Ellida. Do you believe that, Wangel?
Wangel. Yes. And it overshadows your sick imaginings, too. That is why it is good a reality has come.
Ellida. Good? Do you think it good?
Wangel. Yes. That it has come. It may restore you to health.
Ellida (sitting down on sofa). Wangel, come and sit down by me. Imust tell you all my thoughts.
Wangel. Yes, do, dear Ellida.
(He sits down on a chair on the other side of the table.)Ellida. It was really a great misfortune--for us both--that we two of all people should have come together.
Wangel (amazed). What are you saying?
Ellida. Oh, yes, it was. And it's so natural. It could bring nothing but unhappiness, after the way in which we came together.
Wangel. What was there in that way?
Ellida. Listen, Wangel; it's no use going on, lying to ourselves and to one another.
Wangel. Are we doing so? Lying, you say?
Ellida. Yes, we are; or, at least, we suppress the truth. For the truth--the pure and simple truth is--that you came out there and bought me.
Wangel. Bought--you say bought!
Ellida. Oh! I wasn't a bit better than you. I accepted the bargain. Sold myself to you!
Wangel (looks at her full of pain). Ellida, have you really the heart to call it that?
Ellida. But is there any other name for it? You could no longer bear the emptiness of your house. You were on the look-out for a new wife.
Wangel. And a new mother for the children, Ellida.
Ellida. That too, perhaps, by the way; although you didn't in the least know if I were fit for the position. Why, you had only seen me and spoken to me a few times. Then you wanted me, and so--Wangel. Yes, you may call it as you will.
Ellida. And I, on my side--why, I was so helpless and bewildered, and so absolutely alone. Oh! it was so natural I should accept the bargain, when you came and proposed to provide for me all my life.
Wangel. Assuredly it did not seem to me a providing for you, dear Ellida. I asked you honestly if you would share with me and the children the little I could call my own.
Ellida. Yes, you did; but all the same, I should never have accepted! Never have accepted that at any price! Not sold myself!
Better the meanest work--better the poorest life--after one's own choice.
Wangel (rising). Then have the five--six years that we have lived together been so utterly worthless to you?
Ellida. Oh! Don't think that, Wangel. I have been as well cared for here as human being could desire. But I did not enter your house freely. That is the thing.
Wangel (looking at her). Not freely!
Ellida. No. It was not freely that I went with you.
Wangel (in subdued tone). Ah! I remember your words of yesterday.
Ellida. It all lies in those words. They have enlightened me; and so I see it all now.
Wangel. What do you see?
Ellida. I see that the life we two live together--is really no marriage.
Wangel (bitterly). You have spoken truly there. The life we now live is not a marriage.
Ellida. Nor was it formerly. Never--not from the very first (looks straight in front of her). The first--that might have been a complete and real marriage.
Wangel. The first--what do you mean?
Ellida. Mine--with him.
Wangel (looks at her in astonishment). I do not in the least understand you.
Ellida. Ah! dear Wangel, let us not lie to one another, nor to ourselves.
Wangel. Well--what more?
Ellida. You see--we can never get away from that one thing--that a freely given promise is fully as binding as a marriage.
Wangel. But what on earth--
Ellida (rising impetuously). Set me free, Wangel!
Wangel. Ellida! Ellida!
Ellida. Yes, yes! Oh! grant me that! Believe me, it will come to that all the same--after the way we two came together.
Wangel (conquering his pain). It has come to this, then?
Ellida. It has come to this. It could not be otherwise.
Wangel (looking gloomily at her). So I have not won you by our living together. Never, never possessed you quite.
Ellida. Ah! Wangel--if only I could love you, how gladly I would--as dearly as you deserve. But I feel it so well-- that will never be.
Wangel. Divorce, then? It is a divorce, a complete, legal divorce that you want?
