Ellida. Well, then, I'll try to. How will you, as a sensible man, explain to yourself that—(Looks round, and breaks off.) Wait a moment. Here's a visitor.
(LYNGSTRAND comes along the road, and enters the garden. He has a flower in his button-hole, and carries a large, handsome bouquet done up in paper and silk ribbons. He stands somewhat hesitatingly and undecidedly by the verandah.)
Ellida (from the arbour). Have you come to see the girls, Mr. Lyngstrand?
Lyngstrand (turning round). Ah, madam, are you there? (Bows, and comes nearer.) No, it's not that. It's not the young ladies. It's you yourself, Mrs. Wangel. You know you gave me permission to come and see you Ellida. Of course I did. You are always welcome here.
Lyngstrand. Thanks; and as it falls out so luckily that it's a festival here today—
Ellida. Oh! Do you know about that?
Lyngstrand. Rather! And so I should like to take the liberty of presenting this to Mrs. Wangel. (Bows, and offers her the bouquet.)
Ellida (smiling). But, my dear Mr. Lyngstrand, oughtn't you to give these lovely flowers to Mr. Arnholm himself? For you know it's really he Lyngstrand (looking uncertainly at both of them). Excuse me, but I don't know this gentleman. It's only—I've only come about the birthday, Mrs. Wangel.
Ellida. Birthday? You've made a mistake, Mr. Lyngstrand. There's no birthday here today.
Lyngstrand (smiling slyly). Oh! I know all about that! But I didn't think it was to be kept so dark.