Kristrun.  Tell me, Veiga, perhaps your life-egg was a young man’s heart. ...

Rannveig.  We won’t talk about it any more.

Kristrun.  And how did it break?

Rannveig [enraged].  At least I didn’t play with it. I never played with anybody else’s feelings.

Kristrun.  There—­there, don’t snarl so, you’re simply barking—­ bow, wow!

Rannveig [furious].  How many have you made fools of already?

Kristrun.  Let me see—. [Counts on her fingers.] One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, [throws off one shoe, and counts on her toes] eleven ... twelve ... thirteen—­ah! here’s a hole in my stocking.  Thirteen!  Thirteen, Veiga dear!  The unlucky number!  Wonderful!  I’ll never throw him over!

Rannveig.  You’re horribly flippant, Kristrun.

Kristrun [sits down at the small table, shades her face as she looks into the ball].  Fancy, Veiga, I see your whole fate in the ball.

Rannveig.  Leave the crystal alone, it won’t hurt you.

Kristrun.  As sure as I live—­I can see the most trivial events in your life.  I see you by day, in this room here, when your nose begins to itch, and you steal into the kitchen to take a pinch of snuff.  I see. ... [Looks up; Rannveig has come up to her, and is about to strike her.]

Kristrun [slipping away from her].  Look out, the snuff is dripping from your nose! [Runs out, Rannveig shuts the door behind her, and turns around.  She passes her finger under her nose, looks at it, shakes her head.]

Hadda Padda.  You and Runa don’t seem to get on any better since I’ve been away.

Rannveig.  We have never gotten along together. ...  I don’t understand the young people nowadays.  They are merely butterflies--all of them.

Hadda Padda.  You once told me, dear, that sometime in every one’s life there comes a wishing hour.  Maybe Runa had hers when she wished for the joy of living.

Rannveig.  It’s a strange joy then, to want to make other people miserable!  To use the beauty God has given her, against those who cannot resist it. ...  Why do you suppose the new engineer has stopped coming here since the son of the Chief Justice returned from Copenhagen—­and he seemed like such a sweet boy too!  It is not the first or the second time she has changed her mind.

Hadda Padda.  When a true and deep love comes to her, she will not change her mind.

Rannveig.  It’s no use to stand up for her; she wheedles them all.

Hadda Padda.  But still you told me, dear, that you would be fonder of me if I did not marry.

Rannveig.  How can you say that, Hadda dear?  I said that marriage doesn’t always bring happiness.  Hadda Padda.  I know.  You told me that only to console me, because I am now twenty-six years old.  Runa is nineteen, prettier than most girls, and a wild little imp, surrounded by young men all the time.  And they play upon her vanity only to make her cruel. [Stands up.]