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BOLETTA.
My dear Hilda, why should we run away from Lyngstrand?
Hilda.
Because I can't endure to walk up hill so slowly. Look—look at him crawling up.
Boletta.
Oh, you know how ill he is.
Hilda.
Do you think it's very serious?
Boletta.
Yes, I am sure it is.
Hilda.
He consulted father this afternoon. I wonder what father thinks of him.
Boletta.
Father told me that he has a hardening of the lungs—or something of that sort. He won't last very long, father says.
Hilda.
Did he really say so? Well now, that's exactly what I've been thinking.
Boletta.
But for heaven's sake don't let him suspect anything.
Hilda.
Oh, how can you think I would. [In a lower tone.] There!—now Hans has managed to clamber
