em, and kill them. You cruel pretty little flower! Do you
know my sister? [_Puts the sun-dew aside._]

HERBORIST [_holding a new plant in her hand_]. This is the grass of
Parnassus. It makes a good hair-ointment.--Pretty is the young lady's
hair.

HADDA PADDA. You have dug up all the flowers by the roots.

HERBORIST [_pointing to the knife_]. I cut them up by the roots. They
must not lose their power. They are all alive.--Shall I tell you more?

HADDA PADDA. Not now, thank you.

HERBORIST [_puts the flowers into the bag; points to the sky_]. Look how
red the clouds are!--I think we'll have fine weather to-morrow.

HADDA PADDA. Do you think so?

HERBORIST. Evening-glow means warm, morning-glow means storm.

HADDA PADDA [_is silent_].

HERBORIST. Why do you look at me so long?

HADDA PADDA. You have such a peaceful smile on your face. Are you always
so contented?

HERBORIST. I have no reason not to be.

HADDA PADDA. Have you never been discontented with life?

HERBORIST. Yes, when I deserved it. But when one is kind to every one,
life brings peace and happiness.

HADDA PADDA. Has kindness never taken revenge?

HERBORIST. Kindness does not take revenge. It is only evil that takes
revenge.

HADDA PADDA. Then you have been obedient to your fate?

HERBORIST. What I say is true, my girl. Life treats us as we deserve. We
cannot get rid of our past. Nature is a righteous judge.

HADDA PADDA. Nature is heartless and blind.

HERBORIST. Nature IS a righteous judge. I shall never forget something
that happened thirty years ago. I lived at the sea-shore then. One day,
when I was washing fish with some other girls, we saw a woman from the
farm take her child by the hand and lead her out to a jutting rock--when
the flood tide came it took her....

HADDA PADDA [looking up].

HERBORIST.... The case was brought before the judge. The mother insisted
that she had left the child on the ridge, and that it must have walked
down to the shore while she was gathering some dulse. Each of us had to
point out the spot where she had left the child, but the mother pointed
to the ridge. As she raised her three fingers to swear that it was true,
a wave rose, and out of it shot a white column of foam. It stretched
like an arm into the air--like an arm with three swearing fingers. The
sea itself swore against her.

HADDA PADDA [A cold shiver runs through her. She draws her scarf more
closely around her]. It is so strangely cold