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Little Eyolf

Creator: Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906
Translator: Archer, William, 1856-1924
Contributor: -
Editor: -


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you! Only for you in all the world! [Again throwing her arms round his neck.] For you, for you, for you! ALLMERS. Let me go, let me go--you are strangling me! RITA. [Letting him go.] How I wish I could! [Looking at him with flashing eyes.] Oh, if you knew how I have hated you--! ALLMERS. Hated me--! RITA. Yes--when you shut yourself up in your room and brooded over your work--till long, long into the night. [Plaintively.] So long, so late, Alfred. Oh, how I hated your work! ALLMERS. But now I have done with that. RITA. [With a cutting laugh.] Oh yes! Now you have given yourself up to something worse. ALLMERS. [Shocked.] Worse! Do you call our child something worse? RITA. [Vehemently.] Yes, I do. As he comes between you and me, I call him so. For the book--the book was not a living being, as the child is. [With increasing impetuosity.] But I won't endure it, Alfred! I will not endure it--I tell you so plainly!
The Enchanted April

THE ENCHANTED APRIL by ELIZABETH VON ARNIM It began in a Woman's Club in London on a February afternoon--an uncomfortable club, and a miserable afternoon--when Mrs. Wilkins, who had come down from Hampstead to shop and had lunched at her club, took up The Times from the table in the smoking-room, and running her listless eye down the Agony Column saw this: To Those Who Appreciate Wistaria and Sunshine. Small mediaeval Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be Let furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain. Z, Box 1000, The Times.
ALLMERS. [Looks steadily at her, and says in a low voice.] I am often almost afraid of you, Rita. RITA. [Gloomily.] I am often afraid of myself. And for that very reason you must not awake the evil in me. ALLMERS. Why, good Heavens, do I do that? RITA. Yes, you do--when you tear to shreds the holiest bonds between us. ALLMERS. [Urgently.] Think what you're saying, Rita. It is your own child--our only child, that you are speaking of. RITA. The child is only half mine. [With another outburst.] But you shall be mine alone! You shall be wholly mine! That I have a right to demand of you! ALLMERS. [Shrugging his shoulders.] Oh, my dear Rita, it is of no use demanding anything. Everything must be freely given. RITA. [Looks anxiously at him.] And that you cannot do henceforth? ALLMERS. No, I cannot. I must divide myself between Eyolf and you.