[Looks deeply into his eyes.] Is it a good thing!
For I have been so lonely here. I have been gazing so helplessly at it all. [In a lower voice.] I must tell you—I have begun to be afraid of the younger generation.
[With a little snort of contempt.] Pooh—is the younger generation something to be afraid of?
It is indeed. And that is why I have locked and barred myself in. [Mysteriously.] I tell you the younger generation will one day come and thunder at my door! They will break in upon me!
Then I should say you ought to go out and open the door to the younger generation.
Open the door?
Yes. Let them come in to you on friendly terms, as it were.
No, no, no! The younger generation—it means retribution, you see. It comes, as if under a new banner, heralding the turn of fortune.
[Rises, looks at him, and says with a quivering twitch of her lips.] Can I be of any use to you, Mr. Solness?
Yes, you can indeed! For you, too, come—under a new banner it seems to me. You marshalled against youth—!