Arnholm.
Is it really in my honour?
Ellida.
Why, of course it is. We’re not so fine as this every day.—Pah! How suffocatingly hot it is under this roof! [Goes down into the garden.] Come over here! Here there’s a breath of air to be had at any rate.
[She seats herself in the arbour.
Arnholm.
[Goes to her.] Now I should say the air was distinctly fresh here.
Ellida.
Yes, you are used to the close air of Christiania. I’m told it is perfectly dreadful there in summer.
Wangel.