[Half-laughing.] And all those blessed devils, that you know so well—both the light-haired and the dark-haired ones.
[Quietly and warmly.] Then I hope with all my heart that the devils will choose carefully for you, Hilda.
For me they have chosen already—once and for all.
[Looks earnestly at her.] Hilda—you are like a wild bird of the woods.
Far from it. I don't hide myself away under the bushes.
No, no. There is rather something of the bird of prey in you.
That is nearer it—perhaps. [Very vehemently.] And why not a bird of prey? Why should not I go a-hunting—I, as well as the rest? Carry off the prey I want—if only I can get my claws into it, and do with it as I will.
Hilda—do you know what you are?
Yes, I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.
No. You are like a dawning day. When I look at you—I seem to be looking towards the sunrise.