goes about in pairs--always two and two together.

Hilde (looking after them). I could almost swear he's proposing to her.

Lyngstrand. Really? Have you noticed anything?

Hilde. Yes. It's not very difficult--if you keep your eyes open.

Lyngstrand. But Miss Bolette won't have him. I'm certain of that.

Hilde. No. For she thinks he's got so dreadfully old-looking, and she
thinks he'll soon get bald.

Lyngstrand. It's not only because of that. She'd not have him anyhow.

Hilde. How can you know?

Lyngstrand. Well, because there's someone else she's promised to think
of.

Hilde. Only to think of?

Lyngstrand. While he is away, yes.

Hilde. Oh! then I suppose it's you she's to think of.

Lyngstrand. Perhaps it might be.

Hilde. She promised you that?

Lyngstrand. Yes--think--she promised me that! But mind you don't tell
her you know.

Hilde. Oh! I'll be mum! I'm as secret as the grave.

Lyngstrand. I think it's awfully kind of her.

Hilde. And when you come home again--are you going to be engaged to her,
and then marry her?

Lyngstrand. No, that wouldn't very well do. For I daren't think of such
a thing during the first years. And when I shall be able to, she'll be
rather too old for me, I fancy.

Hilde. And yet you wish her to think of you?

Lyngstrand. Yes; that's so useful to me. You see, I'm an artist. And she
can very well do it, because she herself has no real calling. But all
the same, it's kind of her.

Hilde. Do you think you'll be able to get on more quickly with your work
if you know that Bolette is here thinking of you?

Lyngstrand. Yes, I fancy so. To know there is a spot on earth where a
young, gentle, reserved woman is quietly dreaming about you--I fancy it
must be so--so-well, I really don't exactly know what to call it.

Hilde. Perhaps you mean--fascinating?

Lyngstrand. Fascinating! Oh, yes! Fascinating was what I meant, or
something like it. (Looks at her for a moment.) You are so clever, Miss
Hilde. Really you are very clever. When I come home again you'll be
about the same age as your sister is now. Perhaps, too, you'll look like
your sister looks now. And perhaps, too, you'll be of the same mind she
is now. Then, perhaps, you'll be both yourself and your sister--in one
form, so to say.

Hilde. Would you like that?

Lyngstrand. I hardly know. Yes; I almost think I should. But now, for
this summer, I would rather you were like yourself alone, and exactly as
you are.