Hilda.
Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.
Solness.
Write my approval on them? Never!
Hilda.
But the poor old man is lying at death's door! Can't you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.
Solness.
Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that—has my fine gentleman!
Hilda.
Then, good heavens—if that is so—can't you tell the least little bit of a lie for once in a way?
Solness.
A lie? [Raging.] Hilda—take those devil's drawings out of my sight!
Hilda.
[Draws the portfolio a little nearer to herself.] Well well, well—don't bite me.—You talk of trolls—but I think you go on like a troll yourself. [Looks round.] Where do you keep your pen and ink?
Solness.
There is nothing of the sort in here.
