Ellida (pouring herself out a glass of water. Her hand trembles). Ah! How close it is here today.
Lyngstrand. And he said this with such strength of will that I thought he must be the man to do it.
Ellida. Don't you know anything about—what became of the man?
Lyngstrand. Oh! madam, he's certainly not living now.
Ellida (quickly). Why do you think that?
Lyngstrand. Why? Because we were shipwrecked afterwards in the Channel. I had got into the longboat with the captain and five others. The mate got into the stern-boat; and the American was in that too, and another man.
Ellida. And nothing has been heard of them since?
Lyngstrand. Not a word. The friend who looks after me said so quite recently in a letter. But it's just because of this I was so anxious to make it into a work of art. I see the faithless sailor-wife so life-like before me, and the avenger who is drowned, and who nevertheless comes home from the sea. I can see them both so distinctly.
Ellida. I, too. (Rises.) Come; let us go in—or, rather, go down to Wangel. I think it is so suffocatingly hot. (She goes out of the arbour.)
Lyngstrand (who has also risen). I, for my part, must ask you to excuse me. This was only to be a short visit because of the birthday.