Hilda. But I don't see that
Mrs. Solness.
Oh, no, no, Miss Wangel—do not talk to me any more about the two little boys. We ought to feel nothing but joy in thinking of them; for they are so happy—so happy now. No, it is the small losses in life that cut one to the heart—the loss of all that other people look upon as almost nothing.
Hilda.
[Lays her arms on Mrs. Solness's knees, and looks up at her affectionately.] Dear Mrs. Solness—tell me what things you mean!
Mrs. Solness.
As I say, only little things. All the old portraits were burnt on the walls. And all the old silk dresses were burnt, that had belonged to the family for generations and generations. And all mother's and grandmother's lace—that was burnt, too. And only think—the jewels, too! [Sadly.] And then all the dolls.
Hilda.
The dolls?
Mrs. Solness.
[Choking with tears.] I had nine lovely dolls.
Hilda.
And they were burnt too?
Mrs. Solness.
All of them. Oh, it was hard—so hard for me.
