looking out). It must be the large English
ship.

Arnholm. It's passing the buoy. Does it usually stop here?

Bolette. Only for half an hour. It goes farther up the fjord.

Ellida. And then sails away again tomorrow--away over the great open
sea--right over the sea. Only think! to be with them. If one could. If
only one could!

Arnholm. Have you never been any long sea voyage, Mrs. Wangel?

Ellida. Never; only those little trips in the fjord here.

Bolette (with a sigh). Ah, no! I suppose we must put up with the dry
land.

Arnholm. Well, after all, that really is our home.

Ellida. No; I don't think it is.

Arnholm. Not the land?

Ellida. No; I don't believe so. I think that if only men had from
the beginning accustomed themselves to live on the sea, or in the sea
perhaps, we should be more perfect than we are--both better and happier.

Arnholm. You really think that?

Ellida. Yes. I should like to know if we should not. I've often spoken
to Wangel about it.

Arnholm. Well, and he?

Ellida. He thinks it might be so.

Arnholm (jestingly). Well, perhaps! But it can't be helped. We've once
for all entered upon the wrong path, and have become land beasts instead
of sea beasts. Anyhow, I suppose it's too late to make good the mistake
now.

Ellida. Yes, you've spoken a sad truth. And I think men instinctively
feel something of this themselves. And they bear it about with them as a
secret regret and sorrow. Believe me--herein lies the deepest cause for
the sadness of men. Yes, believe me, in this.

Arnholm. But, my dearest Mrs. Wangel, I have not observed that men are
so extremely sad. It seems to me, on the contrary, that most of them
take life easily and pleasantly--and with a great, quiet, unconscious
joy.

Ellida. Oh! no, it is not so. The joy is, I suppose, something like our
joy at the long pleasant summer days--it has the presentiment of the
dark days coming. And it is this presentiment that casts its shadows
over the joy of men, just as the driving clouds cast their shadow over
the fjords. It lies there so bright and blue--and of a sudden.

Arnholm. You shouldn't give way to such sad thoughts. Just now you were
so glad and so bright.

Ellida. Yes, yes, so I was. Oh, this--this is so stupid of me. (Looking
about her uneasily.) If only Wangel would come! He promised me so
faithfully he would. And yet he does not come. Dear Mr. Arnholm, won't
you try and find him for me?

Arnholm. Gladly!

E