Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/142

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That was partly what drove me in fear from the dale.
But here, with the fir-branches soughing o'erhead,—
What a stillness and song!—I am here in my home.

Peer.

And know you that surely? For all your days?

Solveig.

The path I have trodden leads back nevermore.

Peer.

You are mine then! In! In the room let me see you!
Go in! I must go to fetch fir-roots[1] for fuel.
Warm shall the fire be and bright shall it shine,
You shall sit softly and never be a-cold.


[He opens the door; Solveig goes in. He stands still for a while, then laughs aloud with joy and leaps into the air.


Peer.

My king's daughter! Now I have found her and won her!
Hei! Now the palace shall rise, deeply founded!


He seizes his axe and moves away; at the same moment an Old-looking Woman, in a tattered green gown, comes out from the wood; an Ugly Brat, with an ale-flagon in his hand, limps after, holding on to her skirt.


The Woman.

Good evening, Peer Lightfoot!

  1. See note, p. 92.