his.

INGOLF. I always knew you were high-minded, Hrafnhild, but--

HADDA PADDA. And Runa, dear, won't we be the same friendly sisters we
have always been? [Strokes her hair.] Do you want to see that I love you
as much as ever? [Takes her hand.] Come, let me take you in my arms.

KRISTRUN [bursting into tears, she throws herself into Hadda's arms].
Hadda, dear--

HADDA PADDA [presses Kristrun violently to her breast].

KRISTRUN [throwing her head back]. Hadda, Hadda, you are hurting me!

HADDA PADDA [lets go of her--turns to Ingolf]. And now I would like to
speak to you for a moment. May I?

INGOLF. Yes, certainly.

HADDA PADDA, Oh, there's Helga. She is looking for me, Runa, dear, may I
say a few words to Ingolf? You meet Helga, and start for home with her,
won't you?

KRISTRUN. I'll do that, Hadda. [Hurries away.]

HADDA PADDA [sits down]. I think I have discovered that you don't really
enjoy your new happiness. That is why I want to talk to you.

INGOLF. You have told me all I want to hear.

HADDA PADDA [involuntarily frowning a moment]. It is strange how proud
the imagination can be, pretending to be a strong reality. If I had
really loved you at all, I would still. I do not. So long as you were
free, I made myself believe I had a certain claim to you. But once you
were engaged to any one else, the same thing would have happened?--I
should have forgotten you in a week.

INGOLF. You need not tell me this, I know it.

HADDA PADDA. What do you know?

INGOLF. I know that you deny your own heart for the sake of others.

HADDA PADDA. Now you think too highly of both of us. I am not so good
as you would make me, and it is not so difficult to forget you as you
imagine.--You won't believe that I have succeeded in forgetting you.
Won't you believe, either, that I have made every effort to do it?
The day before yesterday I locked myself in my room, and took out your
letters to see whether I could bear to read them. I wanted to test
myself,--you know I like to get to the very heart of things. Well, I
read letter after letter. It is a remarkable power that is given to a
trivial matter. If I had not read the letters, I might still have felt
unhappy, but I read and read with ever increasing calmness. I don't
believe my feelings. I go walking, searching for all the places where
the earth must be scorched with burning pleasures, in order to know
whether they enkindle memories so sacred that they can again inflame