Ellida.
Drowned you say?
Lyngstrand.
Yes, he is drowned at sea. But the strange thing is that he has come home nevertheless. It’s in the night-time; and there he stands by her bedside and looks at her. He must be dripping wet, just as when they haul you up out of the sea.
Ellida.
[Leaning back in her chair.] What a strange idea! [Closes her eyes.] Oh, I can see it livingly before my eyes.
Arnholm.
But in the name of all that’s wonderful, Mr. ——! Mr. ——! You said it was to be something out of your own experience?
Lyngstrand.
Yes,—this is out of my own experience; in a sense, that’s to say.