The Man.
Yes, indeed; and the whole interior will be quiet and restful, for I mean to have soft carpets everywhere, and the walls lined with thousands and thousands of books, and everything looking snug and cheerful. And you and I will sit before the fire on a white bearskin; and when you say to me, "Shall we go and look at the storm?" I shall answer, "Yes," and we shall run to the largest of the great windows, and draw aside the curtains: and then, my God, what a night it will look like.
His Wife.
Snowflakes whirling by!
The Man.
Yes; like little white horses galloping, or myriads of tiny, frightened souls, pale with fear and seeking shelter in the night. And there will be such a howling and a roaring!
His Wife.
And I shall say that I am cold, and give a shiver.
The Man.
And then we shall scamper back to the fire, and I shall call aloud, "Ho, there! Bring me the ancestral goblet—the one of pure gold from which Vikings have drunk—and fill it with aureate wine, and let us drain the soul-warming draught to the dregs!" Meanwhile we shall have had a chamois roasting on the spit, and again I shall call aloud, "Ho, there! Bring hither the venison, that we may eat it!" Yes, and in about two seconds I shall be eating you, little wife, for I am as hungry as the devil.