SOLNESS.
[Looks meditatively at her.] Oh no, I suppose it is the troll within
one that's responsible for that.
HILDA.
[Half-laughing.] And all those blessed devils, that you know so
well--both the light-haired and the dark-haired ones.
SOLNESS.
[Quietly and warmly.] Then I hope with all my heart that the devils
will choose carefully for you, Hilda.
HILDA.
For me they have chosen already--once and for all.
SOLNESS.
[Looks earnestly at her.] Hilda--you are like a wild bird of the
woods.
HILDA.
Far from it. I don't hide myself away under the bushes.
SOLNESS.
No, no. There is rather something of the bird of prey in you.
HILDA.
That is nearer it--perhaps. [Very vehemently.] And why not a bird
of prey? Why should not _I_ go a-hunting--I, as well as the rest?
Carry off the prey I want--if only I can get my claws into it, and
do with it as I will.
SOLNESS.
Hilda--do you know what you are?
HILDA.
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.
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