Arnholm. What is your object, then, in telling me that you were
bound?

Ellida (getting up, as if in fear and unrest). Because I must
have someone in whom to confide. No, no; sit still.

Arnholm. Then your husband knows nothing about this?

Ellida. I confessed to him from the first that my thoughts had
once been elsewhere. He never asked to know more, and we have
never touched upon it since. Besides, at bottom it was simply
madness. And then it was over directly--that is to a certain
extent.

Arnholm (rising). Only to a certain extent? Not quite?

Ellida. Yes, yes, it is! Oh, good heavens! Dear Arnholm, it is
not what you think. It is something so absolutely
incomprehensible, I don't know how I could tell it you. You would
only think I was ill, or quite mad.

Arnholm. My dearest lady! Now you really must tell me all about
it.

Ellida. Well, then, I'll try to. How will you, as a sensible man,
explain to yourself that--(Looks round, and breaks off.) Wait a
moment. Here's a visitor.

(LYNGSTRAND comes along the road, and enters the garden. He has a