THE RAT-WIFE. [Closing the bag.] Oh, it will come--it will come,
right enough.

EYOLF. [Involuntarily drawing nearer, at last goes right up to her,
and strokes the bag.] But he is lovely--lovely all the same.

THE RAT-WIFE. [In a tone of caution.] But now he is so tired and
weary, poor thing. He's utterly tired out, he is. [Looks at
ALLMERS.] For it takes the strength out of you, that sort of game,
I can tell you, sir.

ALLMERS. What sort of game do you mean?

THE RAT-WIFE. The luring game.

ALLMERS. Do you mean that it is the dog that lures the rats?

THE RAT-WIFE. [Nodding.] Mopseman and I--we two do it together.
And it goes so smoothly--for all you can see, at any rate. I just
slip a string through his collar, and then I lead him three times
round the house, and play on my Pan's-pipes. When they hear that,
they have got to come up from the cellars, and down from the
garrets, and out of flour boles, all the blessed little creatures.

EYOLF. And does he bite them to death then?

THE RAT-WIFE. Oh, not at all! No, we go down to the boat, he and I
do--and then they follow after us, both the big ones and the little
ratikins.