[Nods slowly.] That was the price of this happiness that people talk about. [Breathes heavily.] This happiness—h'm—this happiness was not to be bought any cheaper, Hilda.
[As before.] But may it not come right even yet?
Never in this world—never. That is another consequence of the fire—and of Aline's illness afterwards.
[Looks at him with an indefinable expression.] And yet you build all these nurseries.
[Seriously.] Have you never noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it seems to beckon and cry aloud to one?
[Reflecting.] The impossible? [With animation.] Yes, indeed! Is that how you feel too?
Yes, I do.
Then there must be—a little of the troll in you too.
Why of the troll?
What would you call it, then?