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Eyolf.
[With a shriek.] Papa—look! look!
Rita.
Good Heavens, Eyolf!
Allmers.
What's the matter?
Eyolf.
[Pointing.] There's something wriggling in the bag!
Rita.
[At the extreme left, shrieks.] Ugh! Send her away, Alfred.
The Rat-Wife.
[Laughing.] Oh, dearest lady, you needn't be frightened of such a little mannikin.
Allmers.
But what is the thing?
The Rat-Wife.
Why, it's only little Mopsëman. [Loosening the string of the bag.] Come up out of the dark, my own little darling friend.
[A little dog with a broad black snout pokes its head out of the bag.
The Rat-Wife.
[Nodding and beckoning to Eyolf.] Come along, don't be afraid, my little wounded warrior! He won't bite. Come here! Come here!
