ALLMERS. Yes, we do. The boys saw her row out over the fiord. They saw Eyolf standing alone at the very end of the pier. They saw him gazing after her—and then he seemed to turn giddy. [Quivering.] And that was how he fell over—and disappeared.
ASTA. Yes, yes. But all the same—
ALLMERS. She has drawn him down into the depths—that you may be sure of, dear.
ASTA. But, Alfred, why should she?
ALLMERS. Yes, that is just the question! Why should she? There is no retribution behind it all—no atonement, I mean. Eyolf never did her any harm. He never called names after her; he never threw stones at her dog. Why, he had never set eyes either on her or her dog till yesterday. So there is no retribution; the whole thing is utterly groundless and meaningless, Asta.—And yet the order of the world requires it.
ASTA. Have you spoken to Rita of these things?
ALLMERS. [Shakes his head.] I feel as if I can talk better to you about them. [Drawing a deep breath.] And about everything else as well.
[ASTA takes sewing-materials and a little paper parcel out of her pocket. ALLMERS sits looking on absently.]
ALLMERS. What leave you got there, Asta?
ASTA. [Taking his hat.] Some black crape.