EYOLF. Should I not take some books with me?

ALLMERS. No, no books after this. You had better go down to the beach to the other boys.

EYOLF. [Shyly.] No, Papa, I won't go down to the boys to-day.

ALLMERS. Why not?

EYOLF. Oh, because I have these clothes on.

ALLMERS. [Knitting his brows.] Do you mean that they make fun of--of your pretty clothes?

EYOLF. [Evasively.] No, they daren't--for then I would thrash them.

ALLMERS. Aha!--then why--?

EYOLF. You see, they are so naughty, these boys. And then they say I can never be a soldier.

ALLMERS. [With suppressed indignation.] Why do they say that, do you think?

EYOLF. I suppose they are jealous of me. For you know, Papa, they are so poor, they have to go about barefoot.

ALLMERS. [Softly, with choking voice.] Oh, Rita--how it wrings my heart!

RITA. [Soothingly, rising.] There, there, there!

ALLMERS. [Threateningly.] But these rascals shall soon find out who is the master down at the beach!

ASTA. [Listening.] There is some one knocking.

EYOLF. Oh, I'm sure it's Borgheim!

RITA. Come in.

[The RAT-WIFE comes softly and noiselessly in by the door on the right.

She is a thin little shrunken figure, old and grey-haired, with keen, piercing eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned flowered gown, with a black hood and cloak. She has in her hand a large red umbrella, and carries a black bag by a loop over her arm.]

EYOLF. [Softly, taking hold of ASTA's dress.] Auntie! That must surely be her!

THE RAT-WIFE. [Curtseying at the door.] I humbly beg pardon--but are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house?

ALLMERS. Here? No, I don't think so.

THE RAT-WIFE. For it would be such a pleasure to me to rid your worships' house of them.

RITA. Yes, yes; we understand. But we have nothing of the sort here.

THE RAT-WIFE. That's very unlucky, that is; for I just happened to be on my rounds now, and goodness knows when I may be in these parts again.--Oh, how tired I am!

ALLMERS. [Pointing to a chair.] Yes, you look tired.

THE RAT-WIFE. I know one ought never to get tired of doing good to the poor little things that are hated and persecuted so cruelly. But it takes your strength out of you, it does.

RITA. Won't you sit down and rest a little?

THE RAT-WIFE. I thank your ladyship with all my heart. [Seats herself on a chair between the door and the sofa.] I have been out all night at my work.

ALLMERS. Have you indeed?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, over on the islands. [With a chuckling laugh.] The people sent for me, I can a.s.sure you. They didn't like it a bit; but there was nothing else to be done. They had to put a good face on it, and bite the sour apple. [Looks at EYOLF, and nods.] The sour apple, little master, the sour apple.

EYOLF. [Involuntarily, a little timidly.] Why did they have to--?

THE RAT-WIFE. What?

EYOLF. To bite it?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, because they couldn't keep body and soul together on account of the rats and all the little rat-children, you see, young master.

RITA. Ugh! Poor people! Have they so many of them?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, it was all alive and swarming with them. [Laughs with quiet glee.] They came creepy-crawly up into the beds all night long.

They plumped into the milk-cans, and they went pittering and pattering all over the floor, backwards and forwards, and up and down.

EYOLF. [Softly, to ASTA.] I shall never go there, Auntie.

THE RAT-WIFE. But then I came--I, and another along with me. And we took them with us, every one--the sweet little creatures! We made an end of every one of them.

EYOLF. [With a shriek.] Papa--look! look!

RITA. Good Heavens, Eyolf!

ALLMERS. What's the matter?

EYOLF. [Pointing.] There's something wriggling in the bag!

RITA. [At the extreme left, shrieks.] Ugh! Send her away, Alfred.

THE RAT-WIFE. [Laughing.] Oh, dearest lady, you needn't be frightened of such a little mannikin.

ALLMERS. But what is the thing?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, it's only little Mopseman. [Loosening the string of the bag.] Come up out of the dark, my own little darling friend.

[A little dog with a broad black snout pokes its head out of the bag.]

THE RAT-WIFE. [Nodding and beckoning to EYOLF.] Come along, don't be afraid, my little wounded warrior! He won't bite. Come here! Come here!

EYOLF. [Clinging to ASTA.] No, I dare not.