you. They didn't like it a bit; but
there was nothing else to be done. They had to put a good face on it,
and bite the sour apple. [Looks at EYOLF, and nods.] The sour apple,
little master, the sour apple.

EYOLF. [Involuntarily, a little timidly.] Why did they have to--?

THE RAT-WIFE. What?

EYOLF. To bite it?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, because they couldn't keep body and soul together
on account of the rats and all the little rat-children, you see, young
master.

RITA. Ugh! Poor people! Have they so many of them?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, it was all alive and swarming with them. [Laughs with
quiet glee.] They came creepy-crawly up into the beds all night long.
They plumped into the milk-cans, and they went pittering and pattering
all over the floor, backwards and forwards, and up and down.

EYOLF. [Softly, to ASTA.] I shall never go there, Auntie.

THE RAT-WIFE. But then I came--I, and another along with me. And we took
them with us, every one--the sweet little creatures! We made an end of
every one of them.

EYOLF. [With a shriek.] Papa--look! look!

RITA. Good Heavens, Eyolf!

ALLMERS. What's the matter?

EYOLF. [Pointing.] There's something wriggling in the bag!

RITA. [At the extreme left, shrieks.] Ugh! Send her away, Alfred.

THE RAT-WIFE. [Laughing.] Oh, dearest lady, you needn't be frightened of
such a little mannikin.

ALLMERS. But what is the thing?

THE RAT-WIFE. Why, it's only little Mopseman. [Loosening the string of
the bag.] Come up out of the dark, my own little darling friend.

[A little dog with a broad black snout pokes its head out of the bag.]

THE RAT-WIFE. [Nodding and beckoning to EYOLF.] Come along, don't be
afraid, my little wounded warrior! He won't bite. Come here! Come here!

EYOLF. [Clinging to ASTA.] No, I dare not.

THE RAT-WIFE. Don't you think he has a gentle, lovable countenance, my
young master?

EYOLF. [Astonished, pointing.] That thing there?

THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, this thing here.

EYOLF. [Almost under his breath, staring fixedly at the dog.] I think he
has the horriblest--countenance I ever saw.

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 strengt