ace as she looks
into the ball]. Fancy, Veiga, I see your whole fate in the ball.

RANNVEIG. Leave the crystal alone, it won't hurt you.

KRISTRUN. As sure as I live--I can see the most trivial events in your
life. I see you by day, in this room here, when your nose begins to
itch, and you steal into the kitchen to take a pinch of snuff. I see....
[Looks up; Rannveig has come up to her, and is about to strike her.]

KRISTRUN [slipping away from her]. Look out, the snuff is dripping from
your nose! [Runs out, Rannveig shuts the door behind her, and turns
around. She passes her finger under her nose, looks at it, shakes her
head.]

HADDA PADDA. You and Runa don't seem to get on any better since I've
been away.

RANNVEIG. We have never gotten along together.... I don't understand the
young people nowadays. They are merely butterflies--all of them.

HADDA PADDA. You once told me, dear, that sometime in every one's life
there comes a wishing hour. Maybe Runa had hers when she wished for the
joy of living.

RANNVEIG. It's a strange joy then, to want to make other people
miserable! To use the beauty God has given her, against those who cannot
resist it.... Why do you suppose the new engineer has stopped coming
here since the son of the Chief Justice returned from Copenhagen--and he
seemed like such a sweet boy too! It is not the first or the second time
she has changed her mind.

HADDA PADDA. When a true and deep love comes to her, she will not change
her mind.

RANNVEIG. It's no use to stand up for her; she wheedles them all.

HADDA PADDA. But still you told me, dear, that you would be fonder of me
if I did not marry.

RANNVEIG. How can you say that, Hadda dear? I said that marriage doesn't
always bring happiness. HADDA PADDA. I know. You told me that only to
console me, because I am now twenty-six years old. Runa is nineteen,
prettier than most girls, and a wild little imp, surrounded by young
men all the time. And they play upon her vanity only to make her cruel.
[Stands up.]

RANNVEIG. At her age you were prettier, and are, still, but you were not
like that. No, she hasn't your character.

KRISTRUN [enters from behind]. The prince is coming! [Rannveig gathers
her knitting, and drops the yarn. Kristrun jumps at it like a cat, and
catches it.] Now I'll dance for you, Veiga dear. [She whirls around her,
singing, yarn in hand, twisting the thread around the old woman. They
listen for footsteps. Rannveig slips