ALLMERS. Your sweet masses of hair—
RITA.—so that it flowed down my neck and shoulders—
ALLMERS. I saw it, I saw it. Oh, how lovely you were, Rita!
RITA. There were rose-tinted shades over both the lamps. And we were alone, we two—the only waking beings in the whole house. And there was champagne on the table.
ALLMERS. I did not drink any of it.
RITA. [Looking bitterly at him.] No, that is true. [Laughs harshly.] "There stood the champagne, but you tasted it not"—as the poet says.
[She rises from the armchair, goes with an air of weariness over to the sofa, and seats herself, half reclining, upon it.]
ALLMERS. [Crosses the room and stands before her.] I was so taken up with serious thoughts. I had made up my mind to talk to you of our future, Rita—and first and foremost of Eyolf.
RITA. [Smiling.] And so you did—
ALLMERS. No, I had not time to—for you began to undress.