Svava. Does Alfred know this?—Did he know it before?
Nordan. Yes.
Svava. Of course every one knew it except me. Oh, how I wish I could hide myself away from every one! I will, too. I see the real state of things now for the first time. I have been like a child trying to push a mountain away with its two hands—and they have all been standing round, laughing at me, of course. But let me speak to Alfred!
Nordan. To Alfred?
Svava. I behaved so wrongly yesterday. I ought never to have gone into the room—but you gave me no choice when you came to me. I went with you almost unconsciously.
Nordan. I suppose it was thinking of your father—of what I told you about him—that made you—
Svava. I did not understand all at once. But, when I was by myself, it all flashed across me—mother's strange uneasiness—father's threats about leaving the country—all sorts of expressions, and signs—lots and lots of things I had never understood and never even thought twice about! I chased them out of my mind, but back they came!—back and back again! It seemed to paralyse me. And when you took me by the arm and said: "Now you must go in!"—I hardly had strength to think. Everything seemed to be going round and round.
Nordan. Yes, I made a regular mess of it—both on that occasion and the time before.
Svava. No, it was all quite right—quite right! We certainly went a little off the lines, it is true. I must speak to Alfred; the matter must not rest as it is. But, except for that, it was all quite right. And now I have got to make an end of it all.
Nordan. What do you mean?