Well, but in any case it is not your fault.
SOLNESS.
[Fixes his eyes on her, and nods slowly.] Ah, that is the great, the
terrible question. That is the doubt that is gnawing me--night and
day.
HILDA.
That?
SOLNESS.
Yes. Suppose the fault was mine--in a certain sense.
HILDA.
Your fault! The fire!
SOLNESS.
All of it; the whole thing. And yet, perhaps--I may not have had
anything to do with it.
HILDA.
[Looks at him with a troubled expression.] Oh, Mr. Solness--if you
can talk like that, I am afraid you must be--ill after all.
SOLNESS.
H'm--I don't think I shall ever be of quite sound mind on that point.
RAGNAR BROVIK cautiously opens the little door in the left-
hand corner. HILDA comes forward.
RAGNAR.
[When he sees Hilda.] Oh. I beg pardon, Mr. Solness--- [He makes
a movement to withdraw.
SOLNESS.
No, no, don't go. Let us get it over.
RAGNAR.
Oh, yes--if only we could.
SOLNESS.
I hear your father is no better?
RAGNAR.
Father is fast growing weaker--and therefore I beg and implore you
to write a few kind words for me on one of the plans! Something for
father to read before he---
SOLNESS.
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