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Maia.
[Looking angrily at him.] No, I daresay not.
Ulfheim.
[Catching at her arm.] For Lars—he knows, my—my methods of sport, you see.
Maia.
[Eludes him and measures him with a glance.] Do you know what you look like, Mr. Ulfheim?
Ulfheim.
I should think I'm probably most like myself.
Maia.
Yes, there you're exactly right. For you're the living image of a faun.
Ulfheim.
A faun?
Maia.
Yes, precisely; a faun.
Ulfheim.
A faun! Isn't that a sort of monster? Or a kind of a wood demon, as you might call it?
Maia.
Yes, just the sort of creature you are. A thing with a goat's beard and goat-legs. Yes, and the faun has horns too!
Ulfheim.
So, so!—has he horns too?
