Asta.
But you haven't even touched the book! And yet you can look so happy and contented! That is not what you generally do—I mean when your work is going badly.
Allmers.
You are right there. You see, I have been such a fool hitherto. All the best that is in you goes into thinking. What you put on paper is worth very little.
Asta.
[Exclaiming.] Worth very little!
Rita.
[Laughing.] What an absurd thing to say, Alfred.
Eyolf.
[Looks confidingly up at him.] Oh yes, Papa, what you write is worth a great deal!
Allmers.
[Smiling and stroking his hair.] Well, well, since you say soBut I can tell you, some one is coming after me who will do it better.
Eyolf.
Who can that be? Oh, tell me!
Allmers.
Only wait—you may be sure he will come, and let us hear of him.
