Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/234

Einar.

Thanks, no; the swarthy Heathens wait.—
Farewell. [Going.

Brand.

          And does no memory stir,
Bidding you ask—?

Einar.

                   Of what?

Brand.

                            Of her
Who would have grieved at the abyss,
That parts another day from this.

Einar.

I guess your meaning; you refer
To that young female, whose allure
Held me in pleasure's net secure,
Till Faith's ablution made me pure.
—Yes, and how is it then with her?

Brand.

Next year I won her for my wife.

Einar.

That unimportant, I prefer
To leave these trivial facts unknown
What's <g>weighty</g> I desire alone.

Brand.

God richly bless'd our common life
With joy and sorrow: The child pined——

Einar.

That's unimportant——