ou were sitting here grieving because you had found out a family
feast was being kept secret; because your husband and his children live
a life of remembrances in which you have no part.

Ellida. Oh! no, no! That may be as it may. I have no right to claim my
husband wholly and solely for myself.

Arnholm. I should say you had.

Ellida. Yes. Yet, all the same, I have not. That is it. Why, I, too,
live in something from which they are shut out.

Arnholm. You! (In lower tone.) Do you mean?--you, you do not really love
your husband!

Ellida. Oh! yes, yes! I have learnt to love him with all my heart!
And that's why it is so terrible-so inexplicable--so absolutely
inconceivable!

Arnholm. Now you must and shall confide all your troubles to me. Will
you, Mrs. Wangel?

Ellida. I cannot, dear friend. Not now, in any case. Later, perhaps.

(BOLETTE comes out into the verandah, and goes down into the garden.)

Bolette. Father's coming up from the office. Hadn't we better all of us
go into the sitting-room?

Ellida. Yes, let us.

(WANGEL, in other clothes, comes with HILDE from behind the house.)

Wangel. Now, then, here I am at your service. And now we shall enjoy a
good glass of something cool.

Ellida. Wait a moment. (She goes into the arbour and fetches the
bouquet.)

Hilde. I say! All those lovely flowers! Where did you get them?

Ellida. From the sculptor, Lyngstrand, my dear Hilde.

Hilde (starts). From Lyngstrand?

Bolette (uneasily). Has Lyngstrand been here again?

Ellida (with a half-smile). Yes. He came here with these. Because of the
birthday, you understand.

Bolette (looks at HILDE). Oh!

Hilde (mutters). The idiot!

Wangel (in painful confusion to ELLIDA). Hm!--yes, well you see-I must
tell you, my dear, good, beloved Ellida--

Ellida (interrupting). Come, girls! Let us go and put my flowers in the
water together with the others. (Goes up to the verandah.)

Bolette (to HILDE). Oh! After all she is good at heart.

Hilde (in a low tone with angry look). Fiddlesticks! She only does it to
take in father.

Wangel (on the verandah, presses ELLIDA'S hand). Thanks-thanks! My
heartfelt thanks for that, dear Ellida.

Ellida (arranging the flowers). Nonsense! Should not I, too, be in it,
and take part in--in mother's birthday?

Arnholm. Hm!

(He goes up to WANGEL, and ELLIDA, BOLETTE, and HILDE remain in the
garden below.)

ACT II

(SCENE.--At the "View," a shrub-covered hill behi