[Reflecting.] The impossible? [With animation.] Yes, indeed! Is
that how you feel too?
SOLNESS.
Yes, I do.
HILDA.
Then there must be--a little of the troll in you too.
SOLNESS.
Why of the troll?
HILDA.
What would you call it, then?
SOLNESS.
[Rises.] Well, well, perhaps you are right. [Vehemently.] But how
can I help turning into a troll, when this is how it always goes with
me in everything--in everything!
HILDA.
How do you mean?
SOLNESS.
[Speaking low, with inward emotion.] Mark what I say to you, Hilda.
All that I have succeeded in doing, building, creating--all the
beauty, security, cheerful comfort--ay, and magnificence too--
[Clenches his hands.] Oh, is it not terrible even to think of---?
HILDA.
What is so terrible?
SOLNESS.
That all this I have to make up for, to pay for--not in money, but
in human happiness. And not with my own happiness only, but with
other people's too. Yes, yes, do you see that, Hilda? That is the
price which my position as an artist has cost me--and others. And
every single day I have to look on while the price is paid for me
anew.
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