When We Dead Awaken

by Henrik Ibsen

The silence?

Yes, indeed I can.

Well, perhaps you are right, mein Kind. One can really hear the silence.

Heaven knows you can—when it's so absolutely overpowering as it is here—

Here at the Baths, you mean?

Wherever you go at home here, it seems to me. Of course there was noise and bustle enough in the town. But I don't know how it is—even the noise and bustle seemed to have something dead about it.

[With a searching glance.] You don't seem particularly glad to be at home again, Maia?

[Looks at him.] Are you glad?

[Evasively.] I—?

Yes, you, who have been so much, much further away than I. Are you entirely happy, now that you are at home again?