ALLMERS. You are right there. You see, I have been such a fool
hitherto. All the best that is in you goes into thinking. What you
put on paper is worth very little.

ASTA. [Exclaiming.] Worth very little!

RITA. [Laughing.] What an absurd thing to say, Alfred.

EYOLF. [Looks confidingly up at him.] Oh yes, Papa, what you write
is worth a great deal!

ALLMERS. [Smiling and stroking his hair.] Well, well, since you say
so.--But I can tell you, some one is coming after me who will do it
better.

EYOLF. Who can that be? Oh, tell me!

ALLMERS. Only wait--you may be sure he will come, and let us hear
of him.

EYOLF. And what will you do then?

ALLMERS. [Seriously.] Then I will go to the mountains again--

RITA. Fie, Alfred! For shame!

ALLMERS. --up to the peaks and the great waste places.

EYOLF. Papa, don't you think I shall soon be well enough for you to
take me with you?