STEINDOR. I won’t stand here idle, and see you dragged into the chasm.
INGOLF. Get out of my sight, do you hear? Or you’ll see what’s in store for you.
STEINDOR. She’s mad, I tell you—she’s mad. (Takes a few steps and stops.)
Ingolf pulls the rope up, quickly, and firmly, with caution in each grasp. Hadda Padda’s white and beautiful hand appears above the edge of the gorge, holding a large, shining knife, which cuts the rope.
HADDA PADDA (in falling). Ingolf!
INGOLF (is thrown back as the resistance is cut off; he jumps up; rushes to the edge, crying with horror): Hadda Padda!
He gazes down into the gorge for a moment; his knees give way under him; he stretches up his arms, uttering a terrible cry of horror.
Ingolf looks down into the gorge. Listlessly, he lifts the hand which holds the fragment of rope. His eyes are dim with tears which do not fall. Through the moisture of the tears, he looks at the newly cut wound in the rope.