Halla. It was no use going to certain death.
Kari. I should never be afraid of getting lost. If the snowstorm is ever so dark, I find my way. (Raises his hand.) I know where I am by trend of the wind.
Halla. If you were so sure of yourself, you ought indeed to have gone long ago.
Kari (hardening). You say that?
Halla. Yes, I say that.
Kari. Take care! You have tempted me to stay day after day. Your believing and hoping palsied my will. You wormed your own fear into my heart and broke my courage. If we both die of hunger, the fault is yours, and yours alone.
Halla. Is it my fault?
Kari. You have lived in the hills for sixteen years, and you don't know them more than a child does. Perhaps you think the snowstorm will have pity? Won't you open the door and bid the snowstorm be still? Why don't you?
Halla. You say that it is my fault if we starve to death. Who was it that stole?
Kari (stands for a moment speechless). You are homely. I have never before seen how homely you are. Your face makes me think of the head of a dead horse. (Reaches out his arms.) May I feel of your hair if it doesn't all come out?