Wangel. Yes; today I have at last seen to the very heart of it—to its utmost depths.
Ellida. To its very heart, you say? Oh, do not think that!
Wangel (rising). I see very well that there is more than this, dear Ellida.
Ellida (anxiously). You know there is more?
Wangel. Yes. You cannot bear your surroundings here. The mountains crush you, and weigh upon your heart. Nothing is open enough for you here. The heavens above you are not spacious enough. The air is not strong and bracing enough.
Ellida. You are right. Night and day, winter and summer, it weighs upon me—this irresistible home-sickness for the sea.
Wangel. I know it well, dear Ellida (laying his hands upon her head). And that is why the poor sick child shall go home to her own again.
Ellida. What do you mean?
Wangel. Something quite simple. We are going away.
Ellida. Going away?