ainst the table, and, sobbing, buries
her face in her hands.] Oh, God! Oh, God!

ALLMERS. [Heavily.] So you see, little Eyolf has passed so far--far away
from us now.

ASTA. [Looks imploringly up at him.] Oh, Alfred, don't say such things!

ALLMERS. Why, you can reckon it out for yourself--you that are so
clever. In eight-and-twenty hours--nine-and-twenty hours--Let me see--!
Let me see--!

ASTA. [Shrieking and stopping her ears.] Alfred!

ALLMERS. [Clenching his hand firmly upon the table.] Can you conceive
the meaning of a thing like this?

ASTA. [Looks at him.] Of what?

ALLMERS. Of this that has been done to Rita and me.

ASTA. The meaning of it?

ALLMERS. [Impatiently.] Yes, the meaning, I say. For, after all, there
must be a meaning in it. Life, existence--destiny, cannot be so utterly
meaningless.

ASTA. Oh, who can say anything with certainty about these things, my
dear Alfred?

ALLMERS. [Laughs bitterly.] No, no; I believe you are right there.
Perhaps the whole thing goes simply by hap-hazard--taking its own
course, like a drifting wreck without a rudder. I daresay that is how it
is. At least, it seems very like it.

ASTA. [Thoughtfully.] What if it only seems--?

ALLMERS. [Vehemently.] Ah? Perhaps you can unravel the mystery for me?
I certainly cannot. [More gently.] Here is Eyolf, just entering
upon conscious life: full of such infinite possibilities--splendid
possibilities perhaps: he would have filled my life with pride and
gladness. And then a crazy old woman has only to come this way--and show
a cur in a bag--

ASTA. But we don't in the least know how it really happened.

ALLMERS. Yes, we do. The boys saw her row out over the fiord. They saw
Eyolf standing alone at the very end of the pier. They saw him gazing
after her--and then he seemed to turn giddy. [Quivering.] And that was
how he fell over--and disappeared.

ASTA. Yes, yes. But all the same--

ALLMERS. She has drawn him down into the depths--that you may be sure
of, dear.

ASTA. But, Alfred, why should she?

ALLMERS. Yes, that is just the question! Why should she? There is no
retribution behind it all--no atonement, I mean. Eyolf never did her any
harm. He never called names after her; he never threw stones at her dog.
Why, he had never set eyes either on her or her dog till yesterday.
So there is no retribution; the whole thing is utterly groundless and
meaningless, Asta.--And yet the order of the world requires it.

AS