Yes, I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.

SOLNESS.

No. You are like a dawning day. When I look at you--I seem to be looking towards the sunrise.

HILDA.

Tell me, Mr. Solness--are you certain that you have never called me to you? Inwardly, you know?

SOLNESS.

[Softly and slowly.] I almost think I must have.

HILDA.

What did you want with me?

SOLNESS.

You are the younger generation, Hilda.

HILDA.

[Smiles.] That younger generation that you are so afraid of?

SOLNESS.

[Nods slowly.] And which, in my heart, I yearn towards so deeply.

[HILDA rises, goes to the little table, and fetches RAGNAR BROVIK'S portfolio.

HILDA.

[Holds out the portfolio to him.] We were talking of these drawings--

SOLNESS.

[Shortly, waving them away.] Put those things away! I have seen enough of them.

HILDA.

Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.

SOLNESS.

Write my approval on them? Never!

HILDA.

But the poor old man is lying at death's door! Can't you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.

SOLNESS.

Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that--has my fine gentleman!

HILDA.

Then, good heavens--if that is so--can't you tell the least little bit of a lie for once in a way?

SOLNESS.

A lie? [Raging.] Hilda--take those devil's drawings out of my sight!

HILDA.

[Draws the portfolio a little nearer to herself.] Well, well, well--don't bite me.--You talk of trolls--but I think you go on like a troll yourself. [Looks round.] Where do you keep your pen and ink?

SOLNESS.

There is nothing of the sort in here.

HILDA.

[Goes towards the door.] But in the office where that young lady is--

SOLNESS.

Stay where you are, Hilda!--I ought to tell a lie, you say. Oh yes, for the sake of his old father I might well do that--for in my time I have crushed him, trodden him under foot--