Hilde. Just think--his hair's beginning to come off--right on the
top of his head.

Bolette. Nonsense! I'm sure that's not true.

Hilde. It is! And then he has wrinkles round both his eyes. Good
gracious, Bolette, how could you be so much in love with him when
he used to read with you?

Bolette (smiling). Yes. Can you believe it? I remember I once
shed bitter tears because he thought Bolette was an ugly name.

Hilde. Only to think! (Looking down.) No! I say, do just look
down here! There's the "Mermaid" walking along and chatting with
him. Not with father. I wonder if those two aren't making eyes at
one another.

Bolette. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you stand
there and say such a thing of her? Now, when everything was
beginning to be so pleasant between us.

Hilde. Of course--just try and persuade yourself of that, my
child! Oh, no! It will never be pleasant between us and her. For
she doesn't belong to us at all. And we don't belong to her
either. Goodness knows what father dragged her into the house
for! I shouldn't wonder if some fine day she went mad under our
very eyes.

Bolette. Mad! How can you think such a thing?