ALLMERS. [Looking out over the water.] How pitiless the fiord looks to-day, lying so heavy and drowsy--leaden-grey--with splashes of yellow--and reflecting the rain-clouds.

ASTA. [Imploringly.] Oh, Alfred, don't sit staring out over the fiord!

ALLMERS. [Not heeding her.] Over the surface, yes. But in the depths--there sweeps the rushing undertow--

ASTA. [In terror.] Oh, for G.o.d's sake don't think of the depths!

ALLMERS. [Looking gently at her.] I suppose you think he is lying close outside here? But he is not, Asta. You must not think that. You must remember how fiercely the current sweeps gut here straight to the open sea.

ASTA. [Throws herself forward against the table, and, sobbing, buries her face in her hands.] Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!

ALLMERS. [Heavily.] So you see, little Eyolf has pa.s.sed so far--far away from us now.

ASTA. [Looks imploringly up at him.] Oh, Alfred, don't say such things!

ALLMERS. Why, you can reckon it out for yourself--you that are so clever. In eight-and-twenty hours--nine-and-twenty hours--Let me see--!

Let me see--!

ASTA. [Shrieking and stopping her ears.] Alfred!

ALLMERS. [Clenching his hand firmly upon the table.] Can you conceive the meaning of a thing like this?

ASTA. [Looks at him.] Of what?

ALLMERS. Of this that has been done to Rita and me.

ASTA. The meaning of it?

ALLMERS. [Impatiently.] Yes, the meaning, I say. For, after all, there must be a meaning in it. Life, existence--destiny, cannot be so utterly meaningless.

ASTA. Oh, who can say anything with certainty about these things, my dear Alfred?

ALLMERS. [Laughs bitterly.] No, no; I believe you are right there.

Perhaps the whole thing goes simply 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.

ASTA. But, Alfred, why should she?

ALLMERS. Yes, that is just the question! Why should she? There is no retribution behind it all--no atonement, I mean. Eyolf never did her any harm. He never called names after her; he never threw stones at her dog.

Why, he had never set eyes either on her or her dog till yesterday.

So there is no retribution; the whole thing is utterly groundless and meaningless, Asta.--And yet the order of the world requires it.

ASTA. Have you spoken to Rita of these things?

ALLMERS. [Shakes his head.] I feel as if I can talk better to you about them. [Drawing a deep breath.] And about everything else as well.

[ASTA takes serving-materials and a little paper parcel out of her pocket. ALLMERS sits looking on absently.]

ALLMERS. What leave you got there, Asta?

ASTA. [Taking his hat.] Some black c.r.a.p.

ALLMERS. Oh, whet is the use of that?

ASTA. Rita asked me to put it on. May I?

ALLMERS. Oh, yes; as far as I'm concerned--[She sews the c.r.a.pe on his hat.]

ALLMERS. [Sitting and looking at her.] Where is Rita?

ASTA. She is walking about the garden a little, I think. Borgheim is with her.

ALLMERS. [Slightly surprised.] Indeed! Is Borgheim out here to-day again?

ASTA. Yes. He came out by the mid-day train.

ALLMERS. I didn't expect that.

ASTA. [Serving.] He was so fond of Eyolf.

ALLMERS. Borgheim is a faithful soul, Asta.

ASTA. [With quiet warmth.] Yes, faithful he is, indeed. That is certain.

ALLMERS. [Fixing his eyes upon her.] You are really fond of him?

ASTA. Yes, I am.

ALLMERS. And yet you cannot make up your mind to--?

ASTA. [Interrupting.] Oh, my dear Alfred, don't talk of that!

ALLMERS. Yes, yes; tell me why you cannot?

ASTA. Oh, no! Please! You really must not ask me. You see, it's so painful for me.--There now! The hat is done.

ALLMERS. Thank you.