Relling. We’ll talk about it again when the first grass has withered upon her grave. Then you’ll hear him perorating about “the father’s heart bereft too soon of it’s child,” then you’ll see him steeping himself in emotion and in self-admiration, and self-pity. Wait and see!
Gregers. If you are right, and I am wrong, then life is not worth living.
Relling. Ah! life might be pleasant enough all the same, if only we could be left in peace by those blessed duns who come worrying us poor folk about the claims of the ideal.
Gregers (looking in front of him). At any rate I am glad that my destiny is what it is.
Relling. I beg your pardon—what is your destiny?
Gregers (going). To be the thirteenth at table.
Relling. Devil a doubt of that!
Transcriber’s Note
- Punctuation and other obvious typographic inaccuracies were silently corrected.
- Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
- Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
- Table of Contents not in the original and added for reader convenience.
- Footnotes have been numbered consecutively and moved near the related content.
- New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.