Riis. A considerable deal more than that, too. (Disappears again; then comes out with his coat on, brushing himself.) What did you say?
Mrs. Riis. I did not speak.—I rather think it is my mother that Svava is most like.
Riis. I should think so! Svava, with her quiet pleasant ways! What a thing to say!
Mrs. Riis. Svava can be passionate enough.
Riis. Svava never forgets her manners as your mother did.
Mrs. Riis. You never understood mother. Still, no doubt they are unlike in a great many things.
Riis. Absolutely!—Can you see now how right I was in chattering to her in various languages from the beginning, even when she was quite tiny? Can you see that now? You were opposed to my doing it.
Mrs. Riis. I was opposed to your perpetually plaguing the child, and also to the endless jumping from one thing to another.
Riis. But look at the result, my dear! Look at the result! (Begins to hum a tune.)
Mrs. Riis. You are surely never going to pretend that it is the languages that have made her what she is?