Erik.
[Offers Selma his arm.] Has Madame any objection——?
Selma.
Come! [They go out to the right.
The Chamberlain.
[Looking after them.] It’s impossible to get these two separated.
Fieldbo.
It would be sinful to try.
The Chamberlain.
Fools that we are! How Providence blesses us in spite of ourselves. [Calls out.] Thora, Thora, do look after Selma! Get a shawl for her, and don’t let her run about so: she’ll catch cold! How short-sighted we mortals are, Doctor! Do you know any cure for that disease?