for coming.

RITA. Doesn't he look well?

ASTA. [Gazes fixedly at him.] Splendid! Quite splendid! His eyes are so
much brighter! And I suppose you have done a great deal of writing on
your travels? [With an outburst of joy.] I shouldn't wonder if you had
finished the whole book, Alfred?

ALLMERS. [Shrugging his shoulders.] The book? Oh, the book--

ASTA. Yes, I was sure you would find it go so easily when once you got
away.

ALLMERS. So I thought too. But, do you know, I didn't find it so at all.
The truth is, I have not written a line of the book.

ASTA. Not a line?

RITA. Oho! I wondered when I found all the paper lying untouched in your
bag.

ASTA. But, my dear Alfred, what have you been doing all this time?

ALLMERS. [Smiling.] Only thinking and thinking and thinking.

RITA. [Putting her arm round his neck.] And thinking a little, too, of
those you had left at home?

ALLMERS. Yes, you may be sure of that. I have thought a great deal of
you--every single day.

RITA. [Taking her arm away.] Ah, that is all I care about.

ASTA. But you haven't even touched the book! And yet you can look so
happy and contented! That is not what you generally do--I mean when your
work is going badly.

ALLMERS. You are right there. You see, I have been such a fool hitherto.
All the best that is in you goes into thinking. What you put on paper is
worth very little.

ASTA. [Exclaiming.] Worth very little!

RITA. [Laughing.] What an absurd thing to say, Alfred.

EYOLF. [Looks confidingly up at him.] Oh yes, Papa, what you write is
worth a great deal!

ALLMERS. [Smiling and stroking his hair.] Well, well, since you say
so.--But I can tell you, some one is coming after me who will do it
better.

EYOLF. Who can that be? Oh, tell me!

ALLMERS. Only wait--you may be sure he will come, and let us hear of
him.

EYOLF. And what will you do then?

ALLMERS. [Seriously.] Then I will go to the mountains again--

RITA. Fie, Alfred! For shame!

ALLMERS.--up to the peaks and the great waste places.

EYOLF. Papa, don't you think I shall soon be well enough for you to take
me with you?

ALLMERS. [With painful emotion.] Oh, yes, perhaps, my little boy.

EYOLF. It would be so splendid, you know, if I could climb the
mountains, like you.

ASTA. [Changing the subject.] Why, how beautifully you are dressed
to-day, Eyolf!

EYOLF. Yes, don't you think so, Auntie?

ASTA. Yes, indeed. Is it in honour of Papa that you have got