FALK.
Pray don't imagine it was my intent
To live with her on bread and cheese and kisses.
No! just upon the threshold of our blisses,
Kind Heaven must snatch away the gift it lent.
I need a little spiritual gymnastic;
The dose in that form surely would be drastic.

SVANHILD.
[Has during the talk approached; she stands close to
the table, and says in a determined but whimsical tone:
I'll pray that such may be your destiny.
But, when it finds you--bear it like a man.

FALK [turning round in surprise].
Miss Svanhild!--well, I'll do the best I can.
But think you I may trust implicitly
To finding your petitions efficacious?
Heaven as you know, to faith alone is gracious--
And though you've doubtless will enough for two
To make me bid my peace of mind adieu,
Have you the faith to carry matters through?
That is the question.

SVANHILD [half in jest].
Wait till sorrow comes,
And all your being's springtide chills and numbs,
Wait till it gnaws and rends you, soon and late,
Then tell me if my faith is adequate.
[She goes across to the ladies.