- ply by hap-hazard—taking its own course, like
a drifting wreck without a rudder. I daresay that is how it is. At least, it seems very like it.
Asta.
[Thoughtfully.] What if it only seems?
Allmers.
[Vehemently.] Ah? Perhaps you can unravel the mystery for me? I certainly cannot. [More gently.] Here is Eyolf, just entering upon conscious life: full of such infinite possibilities—splendid possibilities perhaps: he would have filled my life with pride and gladness. And then a crazy old woman has only to come this way—and show a cur in a bag
Asta.
But we don't in the least know how it really happened.
Allmers.
Yes, we do. The boys saw her row out over the fiord. They saw Eyolf standing alone at the very end of the pier. They saw him gazing after her—and then he seemed to turn giddy. [Quivering.] And that was how he fell over—and disappeared.
Asta.
Yes, yes. But all the same
Allmers.
She has drawn him down into the depths—that you may be sure of, dear.
