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[She clasps her hands above her head and looks immovably before her, as if a prey to conflicting thoughts and moods.
[Wangel and Arnholm come forward conversing in whispers.
[Boletta goes and looks into the side room on the right. Then she throws the door wide open.
Boletta.
Well, father dear—dinner is on the table,
Wangel.
[With forced composure.] Is it, child? That's right. Come along, Arnholm! We will drink a parting cup with—with "the lady from the sea."
[They go towards the door on the right.
