ACT FOUR

_Late evening._ REBECCA WEST _stands by a lighted lamp, with a shade over it, packing sandwiches, &c., in a reticule, with a faint smile. The antimacassar is on the sofa. Enter_ ROSMER.

ROSMER.

[_Seeing the sandwiches, &c._] Sandwiches? Then you _are_ going! Why, on earth--I _can't_ understand!

REBECCA.

Dear, you never _can_. Rosmershoelm is too much for me. But how did you get on with Kroll?

ROSMER.

We have made it up. He has convinced me that the work of ennobling men was several sizes too large for me--so I am going to let it alone----

REBECCA.

[_With her faint smile._] There I almost think, dear, that you are wise.

ROSMER.

[_As if annoyed._] What, so _you_ don't believe in me either, Rebecca--you never _did_!

[_Sits listlessly on chair._

REBECCA.

Not much, dear, when you are left to yourself--but I've another confession to make.

ROSMER.

What, _another_? I really can't stand any more confessions just now!

REBECCA.

[_Sitting close to him._] It is only a little one. I bullied Beata into the mill-race--because of a wild uncontrollable---- [ROSMER _moves uneasily._] Sit still, dear--uncontrollable fancy--for _you_!

ROSMER.

[_Goes and sits on sofa._] Oh, my goodness, Rebecca--you _mustn't_, you know!

[_He jumps up and down as if embarrassed._

REBECCA.

Don't be alarmed, dear, it is all over now. After living alone with you in solitude, when you showed me all your thoughts without reserve--little by little, somehow the fancy passed off. I caught the Rosmer view of life badly, and dulness descended on my soul as an extinguisher upon one of our Northern dips. The Rosmer view of life is ennobling, very--but hardly lively. And I've more yet to tell you.

ROSMER.

[_Turning it off._] Isn't that enough for one evening?

REBECCA.

[_Almost voiceless._] No, dear. I have a Past--_behind_ me!

ROSMER.

_Behind_ you? How strange. I had an idea of that sort already. [_Starts, as if in fear._] A joke! [_Sadly._] Ah, no--_no_, I must not give way to _that_! Never mind the Past, Rebecca; I once thought that I had made the grand discovery that, if one is only virtuous, one will be happy. I see now it was too daring, too original--an immature dream. What bothers me is that I can't--somehow I _can't_--believe entirely in you--I am not even sure that I _have_ ennobled you so very much--_isn't_ it terrible?

REBECCA.

[_Wringing her hands._] Oh, this killing doubt! [_Looks darkly at him._] Is there anything _I_ can do to convince you?

ROSMER.

[_As if impelled to speak against his will._] Yes, one thing--only I'm afraid you wouldn't see it in the same light. And yet I must mention it. It is like this.

I want to recover faith in my mission, in my power to ennoble human souls. And, as a logical thinker, this I cannot do now, unless--well, unless you jump into the mill-race, too, like Beata!

_REBECCA._

[_Takes up her antimacassar, with composure, and puts it on her head._] Anything to oblige you.

_ROSMER._

[_Springs up._] What? You really _will_! You are _sure_ you don't mind? Then, Rebecca, I will go further. I will even go--yes--as far as you go yourself!

_REBECCA._

[_Bows her head towards his breast._] You will see me off? Thanks. Now you are indeed an Ibsenite.

[_Smiles almost imperceptibly._

_ROSMER._

[_Cautiously._] I said as far as _you_ go. I don't commit myself further than that. Shall we go?

REBECCA.

First tell me this. Are _you_ going with _me_, or am _I_ going with _you?_

ROSMER.

A subtle psychological point--but we have not time to think it out here. We will discuss it as we go along. Come!

[ROSMER _takes his hat and stick_, REBECCA _her reticule, with sandwiches. They go out hand-in-hand through the door, which they leave open. The room (as is not uncommon with rooms in Norway) is left empty. Then_ MADAM HELSETH _enters through another door_.

MADAM HELSETH.

The cab, Miss--not here! [_Looks out._] Out together--at this time of night--upon my--_not_ on the garden seat? [_Looks out of window._] My goodness! _what_ is that white thing on the bridge--the _Horse_ at last! [_Shrieks aloud._] And those two sinful creatures running home!

[_Enter_ ROSMER _and_ REBECCA, _out of breath_.

ROSMER.

[_Scarcely able to get the words out._] It's no use, Rebecca--we must put it off till another evening. We can't be expected to jump off a footbridge which already has a White Horse on it. And if it comes to that, why should we jump at all? I know now that I really _have_ ennobled you, which was all I wanted. What would be the good of recovering faith in my mission at the bottom of a mill-pond? No, Rebecca--[_Lays his hand on her head_]--there is no judge over us, and therefore----

REBECCA.

[_Interrupting gravely._] We will bind ourselves over in our own recognisances to come up for judgment when called upon.

[MADAM HELSETH _holds on to a chair-back._ REBECCA _finishes the antimacassar calmly as Curtain falls_.

* * * * *

NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE

(ET DIKKISVOeET)

ACT FIRST

_A room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks in an etagere: a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case. Window. The Visitor's bell rings in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard to open, and then to shut. Presently_ NORA _walks in with parcels; a porter carries a large Christmas-tree after her--which he puts down_. NORA _gives him a shilling--and he goes out grumbling_.

NORA _hums contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then_ HELMER _puts his head out of his Manager's room, and_ NORA _hides macaroons cautiously_.

HELMER.

[_Playfully._] Is that my little squirrel twittering--that my lark frisking in here?

NORA.

Ess! [_To herself._] I have only been married eight years, so these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall!

HELMER.

[_Threatening with his finger._] I hope the little bird has surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh?

NORA.

[_Bolting one, and wiping her mouth._] No, most certainly not. [_To herself_] The worst of being so babyish is--one _does_ have to tell such a lot of taradiddles! [_To_ HELMER.] See what I've bought--it's been _such_ fun!

[_Hums._

HELMER.

[_Inspecting parcels._] H'm--rather an _expensive_ little lark!

[_Takes her playfully by the ear._

NORA.

Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which reminds me---- [_Plays with his coat-buttons._] I'm such a simple ickle sing--but if you _are_ thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash!

HELMER.

Just like your poor father, _he_ always asked me to make it cash--he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well--well!

[_Goes back to his Bank._ NORA _goes on humming._

_Enter_ MRS. LINDEN, _doubtfully._

NORA.

What, Christina--why, how old you look! But then you are poor. I'm not. Torvald has just been made a Bank Manager. [_Tidies the room._] Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But of course, you wouldn't know. _We_ were poor once, and, do you know, when Torvald was ill, I--[_tossing her head_]--though I _am_ such a frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed L300 for him to go abroad. Wasn't _that_ clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you _who_ lent it. I didn't even tell Torvald. I am such a mere baby I don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. Rank, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!"

MRS. LINDEN.

[_Stroking her hair._] Do--it is a natural and innocent outburst--you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment. _Do_ you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? [_Proudly._] I am an excellent knitter!

NORA.

That would really be awfully funny. [_To_ HELMER, _who enters._] Torvald, this is Christina; she wants to be a clerk in your Bank--_do_ let her! She thinks such a lot of _you_. [_To herself._] Another taradiddle!

HELMER.

She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come along, Mrs. Linden, and we'll see what we can do for you.

[_He goes out through the hall with_ MRS. LINDEN, _and the front-door is heard to slam after them._

NORA.

[_Opens door, and calls._] Now, Emmy, Ivar, and Bob, come in and have a romp with Mamma--we will play hide-and-seek. [_She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction_; KROGSTAD _enters_--NORA _pounces out upon him._] Boo!... Oh, I beg your pardon. I don't do this kind of thing _generally_--though I may be a little silly.

KROGSTAD.

[_Politely._] Don't mention it. I called because I happened to see your husband go out with Mrs. Linden--from which, being a person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of L300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this little game at once.

NORA.

But I don't at all--not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you know--why _should_ I?

[_Sitting upright on carpet._

KROGSTAD.

I will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. When you came to me for the loan, I naturally required some additional security. Your father, being a shady Government official, without a penny--for, if he had possessed one, he would presumably have left it to you--without a penny, then--I, as a cautious man of business, insisted upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are sharp fellows!

NORA.

Well, you _got_ papa's signature, didn't you?

KROGSTAD.

Oh, I _got_ it right enough. Unfortunately, it was dated three days after his decease--now, how do you account for _that_?

NORA.

How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't sign, I signed _for_ him, that's all! Only somehow I forgot to put the date back. _That's_ how. Didn't I _tell_ you I was a silly, unbusiness like little thing? It's very simple.

KROGSTAD.

Very--but what you did amounts to forgery, notwithstanding. I happen to know, because I'm a lawyer, and have done a little in the forging way myself. So, to come to the point--if _I_ get kicked out, I shall not go alone! [_He bows, and goes out._

NORA.

It _can't_ be wrong! Why, no one but Krogstad would have been taken in by it! If the Law says it's wrong, the Law's a goose--a bigger goose than poor little me even! [_To_ HELMER, _who enters._] Oh, Torvald, how you made me jump!

HELMER.

Has anybody called? [NORA _shakes her head._] Oh, my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers. Why, I just met that fellow Krogstad in the hall. He's been asking you to get me to take him back--now, hasn't he?

NORA.

[_Walking about._] Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree looks!

HELMER.

Never mind the tree--I want to have this out about Krogstad. I can't take him back, because many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, a close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, I have remarked that people who forge names seldom or never confide the fact to their children--which inevitably brings moral contagion into the entire family. From which it follows, logically, that Krogstad has been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, and is morally lost. [_Stretches out his hands to her._] I can't bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me!

NORA.

But you never thought of dismissing him till Christina came!

HELMER.

H'm! I've got some business to attend to--so good-bye, little lark! [_Goes into office and shuts door._

NORA.

[_Pale with terror._] If Krogstad poisons his children because he once forged a name, I must be poisoning Emmy, and Bob, and Ivar, because _I_ forged papa's signature! [_Short pause; she raises her head proudly._] After all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical inference! I mustn't play with the children any more--[_hotly_]--I don't care--I _shall_, though! Who cares for Krogstad?

[_She makes a face, choking with suppressed tears, as Curtain falls._

* * * * *

ACT SECOND

_The room, with the cheap Art-furniture as before--except that the candles on the Christmas tree have guttered down and appear to have been lately blown out. The cotton-wool frogs and the chenille monkeys are disarranged, and there are walking things on the sofa._ NORA _alone_.

NORA.

[_Putting on a cloak and taking it off again._] Bother Krogstad! There, I won't think of him. I'll only think of the costume ball at Consul Stenborg's, overhead, to-night, where I am to dance the Tarantella all alone, dressed as a Capri fisher-girl. It struck Torvald that, as I am a matron with three children, my performance might amuse the Consul's guests, and, at the same time, increase his connection at the Bank. Torvald is so practical. [_To_ MRS. LINDEN, _who comes in with a large cardboard box._] Ah, Christina, so you have brought in my old costume? _Would_ you mind, as my husband's new Cashier, just doing up the trimming for me?

MRS. LINDEN.

Not at all--is it not part of my regular duties? [_Sewing._] Don't you think, Nora, that you see a little too much of Dr. Rank?

NORA.

Oh, I _couldn't_ see too much of Dr. Rank! He _is_ so amusing--always talking about his complaints, and heredity, and all sorts of indescribably funny things. Go away now, dear; I hear Torvald.

[MRS. LINDEN _goes. Enter_ TORVALD _from the Manager's room._ NORA _runs trippingly to him._

NORA.

[_Coaxing._] Oh, Torvald, if only you won't dismiss Krogstad, you can't think how your little lark would jump about and twitter.

HELMER.

The inducement would be stronger but for the fact that, as it is, the little lark is generally engaged in that particular occupation. And I really _must_ get rid of Krogstad. If I didn't, people would say I was under the thumb of my little squirrel here, and then Krogstad and I knew each other in early youth; and when two people knew each other in early youth--[_a short pause_]--h'm! Besides, he will address me as, "I say, Torvald"--which causes me most painful emotion! He is tactless, dishonest, familiar, and morally ruined--altogether not at all the kind of person to be a Cashier in a Bank like mine.

NORA.

But he writes in scurrilous papers--he is on the staff of the Norwegian _Punch_. If you dismiss him, he may write nasty things about _you_, as wicked people did about poor dear papa!

HELMER.

Your poor dear papa was not impeccable--far from it. I _am_--which makes all the difference. I have here a letter giving Krogstad the sack. One of the conveniences of living close to the Bank is, that I can use the housemaids as Bank-messengers. [_Goes to door and calls._] Ellen! [_Enter parlourmaid._] Take that letter--there is no answer. [ELLEN _takes it and goes._] That's settled--and now, Nora, as I am going to my private room, it will be a capital opportunity for you to practise the tambourine--thump away, little lark, the doors are double!

[_Nods to her and goes in, shutting door._

NORA.

[_Stroking her face._] How _am_ I to get out of this mess? [_A ring at the visitors' bell._] Dr. Rank's ring! _He_ shall help me out of it! [Dr. RANK _appears in doorway, hanging up his great-coat._] Dear Dr. Rank, how _are_ you? [_Takes both his hands_.

DR. RANK.

[_Sitting down near the stove._] I am a miserable, hypochondriacal wretch--that's what _I_ am. And why am I doomed to be dismal? Why? Because my father died of a fit of the blues! _Is_ that fair--I put it to _you_?

NORA.

Do try to be funnier than _that_! See, I will show you the flesh-coloured silk tights that I am to wear to-night--it will cheer you up. But you must only look at the feet--well, you may look at the rest if you're good. _Aren't_ they lovely? Will they fit me, do you think?

DR. RANK.

[_Gloomily._] A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best authority on the fit of silk stockings. I shall be food for worms before long--I _know_ I shall!

NORA.

You mustn't really be so frivolous! Take that! [_She hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings; then hums a little._] I want you to do me a great service, Dr. Rank. [_Rolling up stockings._] I always liked _you_. I love Torvald most, of _course_--but, somehow, I'd rather spend my time with you--you _are_ so amusing!

RANK.

If I am, can't you guess why? [_A short silence._] Because I love you! You can't pretend you didn't know it!

NORA.

Perhaps not--but it was really too clumsy of you to mention it just as I was about to ask a favour of you! It was in the worst taste! [_With dignity._] You must not imagine because I joke with you about silk stockings, and tell you things I never tell Torvald, that I am therefore without the most delicate and scrupulous self-respect! I am really quite a good little doll, Dr. Rank, and now--[_sits in rocking chair and smiles_]--now I shan't ask you what I was going to!

[ELLEN _comes in with a card._

NORA.

[_Terrified._] Oh, my goodness!

[_Puts it in her pocket._

DR. RANK.

Excuse my easy Norwegian pleasantry--but--h'm--anything disagreeable up?

NORA.

[_To herself._] Krogstad's card! I must tell _another_ whopper! [_To_ RANK.] No, nothing--only--only my new costume. I want to try it on here. I always do try on my dresses in the drawing-room--it's _cosier_, you know. So go in to Torvald and amuse him till I'm ready.

[RANK _goes into_ HELMER'S _room, and_ NORA _bolts the door upon him, as_ KROGSTAD _enters from hall in a fur cap_.

KROGSTAD.

Well, I've got the sack, and so I came to see how _you_ are getting on. I mayn't be a nice man, but--[_with feeling_]--I have a heart! And, as I don't intend to give up the forged I.O.U. unless I'm taken back, I was afraid you might be contemplating suicide, or something of that kind; and so I called to tell you that, if I were you, I wouldn't. Bad thing for the complexion, suicide--and silly, too, because it wouldn't mend matters in the least. [_Kindly._] You must not take this affair too seriously, Mrs. Helmer. Get your husband to settle it amicably by taking me back as Cashier; _then_ I shall soon get the whip-hand of _him_, and we shall all be as pleasant and comfortable as possible together!

NORA.

Not even that prospect can tempt me! Besides, Torvald wouldn't have you back at any price now!

KROGSTAD.

All right, then. I have here a letter, telling your husband all. I will take the liberty of dropping it in the letter-box at your hall-door as I go out. I'll wish you good evening!

[_He goes out; presently the dull sound of a thick letter dropping into a wire box is heard._

NORA.

[_Softly, and hoarsely._] He's done it! How _am_ I to prevent Torvald from seeing it?

HELMER.

[_Inside the door, rattling._] Hasn't my lark changed its dress yet? [NORA _unbolts door._] What--so you are _not_ in fancy costume, after all? [_Enters with_ RANK.] Are there any letters for me in the box there?

NORA.

[_Voicelessly._] None--not even a postcard! Oh, Torvald, don't, please, go and look--_promise_ me you won't! I do _assure_ you there isn't a letter! And I've forgotten the Tarantella you taught me--do let's run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down--promise me not to look at the letter-box. I can't dance unless you do.

HELMER.

[_Standing still, on his way to the letter-box._] I am a man of strict business habits, and some powers of observation; my little squirrel's assurances that there is nothing in the box, combined with her obvious anxiety that I should not go and see for myself, satisfy me that it is indeed empty, in spite of the fact that I have not invariably found her a strictly truthful little dicky-bird. There--there. [_Sits down to piano._] Bang away on your tambourine, little squirrel--dance away, my own lark!

NORA.

[_Dancing, with a long gay shawl._] Just _won't_ the little squirrel! Faster--faster! Oh, I _do_ feel so gay! We will have some champagne for dinner, _won't_ we, Torvald?

[_Dances with more and more abandonment._

HELMER.

[_After addressing frequent remarks in correction._] Come, come--not this awful wildness! I don't like to see _quite_ such a larky little lark as this.... Really it is time you stopped!

NORA.

[_Her hair coming down as she dances more wildly still, and swings the tambourine._] I can't.... I can't! [_To herself, as she dances._] I've only thirty-one hours left to be a bird in; and after that--[_shuddering_]--after _that_, Krogstad will let the cat out of the bag!

[_Curtain._

* * * * *

ACT THIRD

_The same room_--_except that the sofa has been slightly moved, and one of the Japanese cotton-wool frogs has fallen into the fire-place_. MRS. LINDEN _sits and reads a book_--_but without understanding a single line_.

MRS. LINDEN.

[_Laying down her book, as a light tread is heard outside_.] Here he is at last! [KROGSTAD _comes in, and stands in the doorway._] Mr. Krogstad, I have given you a secret _rendezvous_ in this room, because it belongs to my employer, Mr. Helmer, who has lately discharged you. The etiquette of Norway permits these slight freedoms on the part of a female cashier.

KROGSTAD.

It does. Are we alone? [NORA _is heard overhead dancing the Tarantella_.] Yes, I hear Mrs. Helmer's fairy footfall above. She dances the Tarantella now--by-and-by she will dance to another tune! [_Changing his tone._] I don't exactly know why you should wish to have this interview--after jilting me as you did, long ago, though?

MRS. LINDEN.

Don't you? _I_ do. I am a widow--a Norwegian widow. And it has occurred to me that there may be a nobler side to your nature somewhere--though you have not precisely the best of reputations.

KROGSTAD.

Right. I am a forger, and a money-lender; I am on the staff of the Norwegian _Punch_--a most scurrilous paper. More, I have been blackmailing Mrs. Helmer by trading on her fears, like a low cowardly cur. But, in spite of all that--[_clasping his hands_]--there are the makings of a fine man about me _yet_, Christina!

MRS. LINDEN.

I believe you--at least, I'll chance it. I want some one to care for, and I'll marry you.

KROGSTAD.

[_Suspiciously._] On condition, I suppose, that I suppress the letter denouncing Mrs. Helmer?

MRS. LINDEN.

How can you think so? I am her dearest friend; but I can still see her faults, and it is my firm opinion that a sharp lesson will do her all the good in the world. She is _much_ too comfortable. So leave the letter in the box, and come home with me.

KROGSTAD.

I am wildly happy! Engaged to the female cashier of the manager who has discharged me, our future is bright and secure!

[_He goes out; and_ MRS. LINDEN _sets the furniture straight; presently a noise is heard outside, and_ HELMER _enters, dragging_ NORA _in. She is in fancy dress, and he in an open black domino._

NORA.

I shan't! It's too early to come away from such a nice party. I _won't_ go to bed!

[_She whimpers._

HELMER.

[_Tenderly._] There'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, Mrs. Linen! Poshtively had to drag her 'way! She'sh a capricious lil' girl--from Capri. 'Scuse me!--'fraid I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur again! Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us--'counts for it! [_Sits down smiling._] Do you _knit_, Mrs. Cotton?... You shouldn't. Never knit. 'Broider. [_Nodding to her, solemnly._] 'Member that. Alwaysh _'broider_. More--[_hiccoughing_]--Oriental! Gobblesh you!--goo'ni!

MRS. LINDEN.

I only came in to--to see Nora's costume. Now I've seen it, I'll go.

[_Goes out._

HELMER.

Awful bore that woman--hate boresh! [_Looks at_ NORA, _then comes nearer._] Oh, you prillil squillikins, I _do_ love you so! Shomehow, I feel sho lively thishevenin'!

NORA.

[_Goes to other side of table._] I won't _have_ all that, Torvald!

HELMER.

Why? ain't you my lil' lark--ain't thish our lil' cage? Ver-_well_, then. [_A ring._] Rank! confound it all! [_Enter_ Dr. RANK.] Rank, dear old boy, you've been [_hiccoughs_] going it upstairs. Cap'tal champagne, eh? '_Shamed_ of you, Rank!

[_He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently._

DR. RANK.

Did you notice it? [_With pride._] It was almost incredible the amount I contrived to put away. But I shall suffer for it to-morrow. [_Gloomily._] Heredity again! I wish I was dead! I do.

NORA.

Don't apologise. Torvald was just as bad; but he is always so good-tempered after champagne.

DOCTOR RANK.

Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. Helmer, it's chronic--and hereditary too. Here are my P.P.C. cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me with a cigar?

NORA.

[_With a suppressed smile._] Certainly. Let me give you a light?

[DOCTOR RANK _lights his cigar, after several ineffectual attempts, and goes out_.

HELMER.

[_Compassionately._] Poo' old Rank--he'sh very bad to-ni'! [_Pulls himself together._] But I forgot--Bishness--I mean, bu-si-ness--mush be 'tended to. I'll go and see if there are any letters. [_Goes to box._] Hallo! some one's been at the lock with a hairpin--it's one of _your_ hairpins!

[_Holding it out to her._

NORA.

[_Quickly._] Not mine--one of Bob's, or Ivar's--they both wear hairpins!

HELMER.

[_Turning over letters absently._] You must break them of it--bad habit! What a lot o' lettersh! _double_ usual quantity. [_Opens_ KROGSTAD'S.] By Jove! [_Reads it and falls back completely sobered._] What have you got to say to _this_?

NORA.

[_Crying aloud._] You shan't save me--let me go! I _won't_ be saved!

HELMER.

Save _you_, indeed! Who's going to save _Me_? You miserable little criminal. [_Annoyed._] Ugh--ugh!

NORA.

[_With hardening expression._] Indeed, Torvald, your singing-bird acted for the best!

HELMER.

Singing-bird! Your father was a rook--and you take _after_ him. Heredity again! You have utterly destroyed my happiness. [_Walks round several times._] Just as I was beginning to get on, too!

NORA.

I have--but I will go away and jump into the water.

HELMER.

What good will _that_ do me? People will say I had a hand in this business. [_Bitterly._] If you _must_ forge, you might at least put your dates in correctly! But you never _had_ any principle! [_A ring._] The front-door bell! [_A fat letter is seen to fall into the box_; HELMER _takes it, opens it, sees enclosure, and embraces_ NORA.] Krogstad won't split. See, he returns the forged I.O.U.! Oh, my poor little lark, _what_ you must have gone through! Come under my wing, my little scared song-bird.... Eh? you _won't_! Why, what's the matter _now_?

NORA.

[_With cold calm._] I have wings of my own, thank you, Torvald, and I mean to use them!

HELMER.

What--leave your pretty cage, and [_pathetically_] the old cock bird, and the poor little innocent eggs!

NORA.

Exactly. Sit down, and we will talk it over first. [_Slowly._] Has it ever struck you that this is the first time you and I have ever talked seriously together about serious things?

HELMER.

Come, I do like that! How on earth could we talk about serious things when your mouth was always full of macaroons?

NORA.

[_Shakes her head._] Ah, Torvald, the mouth of a mother of a family should have more solemn things in it than macaroons! I see that now, too late. No, you have wronged me. So did papa. Both of you called me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark! You might have made something of me--and instead of that, you went and made too much of me--oh, you _did_!

HELMER.

Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really I don't exactly see what it is you _do_ want!

NORA.

No more do I--that is what I have got to find out. If I had been properly educated, I should have known better than to date poor papa's signature three days after he died. Now I must educate _myself_. I have to gain experience, and get clear about religion, and law, and things, and whether Society is right or I am--and I must go away and never come back any more till I _am_ educated!

HELMER.

Then you may be away some little time? And what's to become of me and the eggs meanwhile?

NORA.

That, Torvald, is entirely your own affair. I have a higher duty than that towards you and the eggs. [_Looking solemnly upward._] I mean my duty towards Myself!

HELMER.

And all this because--in a momentary annoyance at finding myself in the power of a discharged cashier who calls me "I say, Torvald," I expressed myself with ultra-Gilbertian frankness! You talk like a silly child!

NORA.

Because my eyes are opened, and I see my position with the eyes of Ibsen. I must go away at once, and begin to educate myself.

HELMER.

May I ask how you are going to set about it?

NORA.

Certainly. I shall begin--yes, I shall _begin_ with a course of the Norwegian theatres. If _that_ doesn't take the frivolity out of me, I don't really know what _will_!

[_She gets her bonnet and ties it tightly._

HELMER.

Then you are really going? And you'll never think about me and the eggs any more! Oh, Nora!

NORA.

Indeed, I shall--occasionally--as strangers.

[_She puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her dressing-bag._] If I ever do come back, the greatest miracle of all will have to happen. Good-bye!

[_She goes out through the hall; the front door is heard to bang loudly._

HELMER.

[_Sinking on a chair._] The room empty? Then she must be gone! Yes, my little lark has flown! [_The dull sound of an unskilled latchkey is heard trying the lock; presently the door opens, and_ NORA, _with a somewhat foolish expression, reappears._] What? back already! Then you _are_ educated?

NORA.

[_Puts down dressing-bag._] No, Torvald, not yet. Only, you see, I found I had only threepence-halfpenny in my purse, and the Norwegian theatres are all closed at this hour--and so I thought I wouldn't leave the cage till to-morrow--after breakfast.

HELMER.

[_As if to himself._] The greatest miracle of all has happened. My little bird is not in the bush _just_ yet!

[NORA _takes down a showily-bound dictionary from the shelf and begins her education;_ HELMER _fetches a bag of macaroons, sits near her, and tenders one humbly. A pause._ NORA _repulses it, proudly. He offers it again. She snatches at it suddenly, still without looking at him, and nibbles it thoughtfully as Curtain falls._

* * * * *

HEDDA GABLER

ACT FIRST

SCENE--_A sitting-room cheerfully decorated in dark colours. Broad doorway, hung with black crape, in the wall at back, leading to a back drawing-room, in which, above a sofa in black horsehair, hangs a posthumous portrait of the late_ GENERAL GABLER. _On the piano is a handsome pall. Through the glass panes of the back drawing-room window are seen a dead wall and a cemetery. Settees, sofas, chairs, &c., handsomely upholstered in black bombazine, and studded with small round nails. Bouquets of immortelles and dead grasses are lying everywhere about._

_Enter_ AUNT JULIE (_a good-natured-looking lady in a smart hat._)

AUNT JULIE.

Well, I declare, if I believe George or Hedda are up yet! [_Enter_ GEORGE TESMAN, _humming, stout, careless, spectacled._] Ah, my dear boy, I have called before breakfast to inquire how you and Hedda are after returning late last night from your long honeymoon. Oh, dear me, yes; am I not your old aunt, and are not these attentions usual in Norway?

GEORGE.

Good Lord, yes! My six months' honeymoon has been quite a little travelling scholarship, eh? I have been examining archives. Think of _that_! Look here, I'm going to write a book all about the domestic interests of the Cave-dwellers during the Deluge. I'm a clever young Norwegian man of letters, eh?

AUNT JULIE.

Fancy your knowing about that too! Now, dear me, thank Heaven!

GEORGE.

Let me, as a dutiful Norwegian nephew, untie that smart, showy hat of yours. [_Unties it, and pats her under the chin._] Well, to be sure, you have got yourself really up--fancy that!

[_He puts hat on chair close to table._

AUNT JULIE.

[_Giggling._] It was for Hedda's sake--to go out walking with her in. [HEDDA _approaches from the back-room; she is pallid, with cold, open, steel-grey eyes; her hair is not very thick, but what there is of it is an agreeable medium brown._] Ah, dear Hedda!

[_She attempts to cuddle her._

HEDDA.

[_Shrinking back._] Ugh, let me go, do! [_Looking at_ AUNT JULIE'S _hat._] Tesman, you must really tell the housemaid not to leave her old hat about on the drawing-room chairs. Oh, is it _your_ hat? Sorry I spoke, I'm sure!

AUNT JULIE.

[_Annoyed._] Good gracious, little Mrs. Hedda; my nice new hat that I bought to go out walking with _you_ in!

GEORGE.

[_Patting her on the back._] Yes, Hedda, she did, and the parasol too! Fancy, Aunt Julie always positively thinks of everything, eh?

HEDDA.

[_Coldly._] You hold _your_ tongue. Catch me going out walking with your aunt! One doesn't _do_ such things.

GEORGE.

[_Beaming._] Isn't she a charming woman? Such fascinating manners! My goodness, eh? Fancy that!

AUNT JULIE.

Ah, dear George, you ought indeed to be happy--but [_brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper_] look _here_, my dear boy!

GEORGE.

[_Opens it._] What? my dear old morning shoes! my slippers! [_Breaks down._] This is positively too touching, Hedda, eh? Do you remember how badly I wanted them all the honeymoon? Come and just have a look at them--you _may_!

HEDDA.

Bother your old slippers and your old aunt too! [AUNT JULIE _goes out annoyed, followed by_ GEORGE, _still thanking her warmly for the slippers;_ HEDDA _yawns;_ GEORGE _comes back and places his old slippers reverently on the table._] Why, here comes Mrs. Elvsted--_another_ early caller! She had irritating hair, and went about making a sensation with it--an old flame of yours, I've heard.

[_Enter_ MRS. ELVSTED; _she is pretty and gentle, with copious wavy white-gold hair and round prominent eyes, and the manner of a frightened rabbit._

MRS. ELVSTED.

[_Nervous._] Oh, please, I'm so perfectly in despair. Ejlert Loevborg, you know, who was our tutor; he's written such a large new book. I inspired him. Oh, I know I don't look like it--but I did--he told me so. And, good gracious! now he's in this dangerous wicked town all alone, and he's a reformed character, and I'm _so_ frightened about him; so, as the wife of a sheriff twenty years older than me, I came up to look after Mr. Loevborg. Do ask him here--then I can meet him. You will? How perfectly lovely of you! My husband's _so_ fond of him!

HEDDA.

George, go and write an invitation at once; do you hear? [GEORGE _looks around for his slippers, takes them up and goes out._] Now we can talk, my little Thea. Do you remember how I used to pull your hair when we met on the stairs, and say I would scorch it off? Seeing people with copious hair always _does_ irritate me.

MRS. ELVSTED.

Goodness, yes, you were always so playful and friendly, and I was so afraid of you. I am still. And please, I've run away from my husband. Everything around him was distasteful to me. And Mr. Loevborg and I were comrades--he was dissipated, and I got a sort of power over him, and he made a real person out of me--which I wasn't before, you know; but, oh, I do hope I'm real now. He talked to me and taught me to think--chiefly of him. So, when Mr. Loevborg came here, naturally I came too. There was nothing else to do! And fancy, there is another woman whose shadow still stands between him and me! She wanted to shoot him once, and so, of course, he can never forget her. I wish I knew her name--perhaps it was that red-haired opera-singer?

HEDDA.

[_With cold self-command._] Very likely--but nobody does that sort of thing here. Hush! Run away now. Here comes Tesman with Judge Brack. [MRS. ELVSTED _goes out;_ GEORGE _comes in with_ JUDGE BRACK, _who is a short and elastic gentleman, with a round face, carefully brushed hair, and distinguished profile._] How awfully funny you do look by daylight, Judge!

BRACK.

[_Holding his hat and dropping his eye-glass._] Sincerest thanks. Still the same graceful manners, dear little Mrs. Hed--Tesman! I came to invite dear Tesman to a little bachelor-party to celebrate his return from his long honeymoon. It is customary in Scandinavian society. It will be a lively affair, for I am a gay Norwegian dog.

GEORGE.

Asked out--without my wife! Think of that! Eh? Oh, dear me, yes, _I_'ll come!

BRACK.

By the way, Loevborg is here; he has written a wonderful book, which has made a quite extraordinary sensation. Bless me, yes!

GEORGE.

Loevborg--fancy! Well, I _am_--glad. Such marvellous gifts! And I was so painfully certain he had gone to the bad. Fancy that, eh? But what will become of him _now_, poor fellow, eh? I am so anxious to know!

BRACK.

Well, he may possibly put up for the Professorship against you, and, though you _are_ an uncommonly clever man of letters--for a Norwegian--it's not wholly improbable that he may cut you out!

GEORGE.

But, look here, good Lord, Judge Brack!--[_gesticulating_]--that would show an incredible want of consideration for me! I married on my chance of _getting_ that professorship. A man like Loevborg, too, who hasn't even been respectable, eh? One doesn't do such things as that!

BRACK.

Really? You forget we are all realistic and unconventional persons here, and do all kinds of odd things. But don't worry yourself!

[_He goes out._

GEORGE.

[_To_ HEDDA.] Oh, I say, Hedda, what's to become of our fairyland now, eh? We can't have a liveried servant, or give dinner parties, or have a horse for riding. Fancy that!

HEDDA.

[_Slowly, and wearily._] No, we shall really have to set up as fairies in reduced circumstances, now.

GEORGE.

[_Cheering up._] Still, we shall see Aunt Julie every day, and _that_ will be something, and I've got back my old slippers. We shan't be altogether without some amusements, eh?

HEDDA.

[_Crosses the floor._] Not while I have one thing to amuse myself with, at all events.

GEORGE.

[_Beaming with joy._] Oh, Heaven be praised and thanked for that! My goodness, so you have! And what may _that_ be, Hedda, eh?

HEDDA.

[_At the doorway, with suppressed scorn._] Yes, George you have the old slippers of the attentive aunt, and I have the horse-pistols of the deceased general!

GEORGE.

[_In an agony._] The pistols! Oh, my goodness! _what_ pistols?

HEDDA.

[_With cold eyes._] General Gabler's pistols--same which I shot--[_recollecting herself_]--no, that's Thackeray, not Ibsen--a _very_ different person.

[_She goes through the back drawing-room._

GEORGE.

[_At doorway, shouting after her._] Dearest Hedda, _not_ those dangerous things, eh? Why, they have never once been known to shoot straight yet! Don't! Have a catapult. For _my_ sake, have a catapult!

[_Curtain._

* * * * *

ACT SECOND

SCENE--_The cheerful dark drawing-room. It is afternoon._ HEDDA _stands loading a revolver in the back drawing-room_.

HEDDA.

[_Looking out and shouting._] How do you do, Judge? [_Aims at him._] Mind yourself!

[_She fires._

BRACK.

[_Entering._] What the devil! Do you usually take pot-shots at casual visitors?

[_Annoyed._

HEDDA.

Invariably, when they come by the back-garden. It is my unconventional way of intimating that I am at home. One does do these things in realistic dramas, you know. And I was only aiming at the blue sky.

BRACK.

Which accounts for the condition of my hat. [_Exhibiting it._] Look here--_riddled!_

HEDDA.

Couldn't help myself. I am so horribly bored with Tesman. Everlastingly to be with a professional person!

BRACK.

[_Sympathetically._] Our excellent Tesman is certainly a bit of a bore. [_Looks searchingly at her._] What on earth made you marry him?

HEDDA.

Tired of dancing, my dear, that's all. And then I used Tesman to take me home from parties; and we saw this villa; and I said I liked it, and so did he; and so we found some common ground, and here we are, do you see! And I loathe Tesman, and I don't even like the villa now; and I do feel the want of an entertaining companion so!

BRACK.

Try me. Just the kind of three-cornered arrangement that I like. Let me be the third person in the compartment--[_confidentially_]--the tried friend, and, generally speaking, cock of the walk!

HEDDA.

[_Audibly drawing in her breath._] I cannot resist your polished way of putting things. We will conclude a triple alliance. But hush!--here comes Tesman.

[_Enter_ GEORGE _with a number of books under his arm._

GEORGE.

Puff! I _am_ hot, Hedda. I've been looking into Loevborg's new book. Wonderfully thoughtful--confound him! But I must go and dress for your party, Judge.

[_He goes out._

HEDDA.

I wish I could get Tesman to take to politics, Judge. Couldn't he be a Cabinet Minister, or something?

BRACK.

H'm!

[_A short pause; both look at one another, without speaking. Enter_ GEORGE, _in evening dress with gloves._

GEORGE.

It is afternoon, and your party is at half-past seven--but I like to dress early. Fancy that! And I am expecting Loevborg.

EJLERT LOeVBORG _comes in from the hall; he is worn and pale, with red patches on his cheek-bones, and wears an elegant perfectly new visiting-suit and black gloves._

GEORGE.

Welcome! [_Introduces him to_ BRACK.] Listen--I have got your new book, but I haven't read it through yet.

LOeVBORG.

You needn't--it's rubbish. [_Takes a packet of MSS. out._] This _isn't_. It's in three parts; the first about the civilising forces of the future, the second about the future of the civilising forces, and the third about the forces of the future civilisation. I thought I'd read you a little of it this evening?

BRACK _and_ GEORGE.

[_Hastily._] Awfully nice of you--but there's a little party this evening--so sorry we can't stop! Won't you come too?

HEDDA.

No, he must stop and read it to me and Mrs. Elvsted instead.

GEORGE.

It would never have occurred to me to think of such clever things! Are you going to oppose me for the professorship, eh?

LOeVBORG.

[_Modestly._] No; I shall only triumph over you in the popular judgment--that's all!

GEORGE.

Oh, is that all? Fancy! Let us go into the back drawing-room and drink cold punch.

LOeVBORG.

Thanks--but I am a reformed character, and have renounced cold punch--it is poison.

[GEORGE _and_ BRACK _go into the back-room and drink punch, whilst_ HEDDA _shows_ LOeVBORG _a photograph album in the front._

LOeVBORG.

[_Slowly, in a low tone._] Hedda Gabler! how _could_ you throw yourself away like this!--Oh, is _that_ the Ortler Group? Beautiful!----Have you forgotten how we used to sit on the settee together behind an illustrated paper, and--yes, very picturesque peaks--I told you all about how I had been on the loose?

HEDDA.

Now, none of that here! These are the Dolomites.--Yes, I remember; it was a beautiful fascinating Norwegian intimacy--but it's over now. See, we spent a night in that little mountain village, Tesman and I.

LOeVBORG.

Did you, indeed? Do you remember that delicious moment when you threatened to shoot me down? [_Tenderly._] I do!

HEDDA.

[_Carelessly._] Did I! I have done that to so many people. But now all that is past, and you have found the loveliest consolation in dear, good, little Mrs. Elvsted--ah, here she is! [_Enter_ MRS. ELVSTED.] Now, Thea, sit down and drink up a good glass of cold punch. Mr. Loevborg is going to have some. If you don't, Mr. Loevborg, George and the Judge will think you are afraid of taking too much if you once begin.

MRS. ELVSTED.

Oh, please, Hedda! When I've inspired Mr. Loevborg so--good gracious! _don't_ make him drink cold punch!

HEDDA.

You see, Mr. Loevborg, our dear little friend can't trust you!

LOeVBORG.

So _that_ is my comrade's faith in me! [_Gloomily._] _I'll_ show her if I am to be trusted or not. [_He drinks a glass of punch._] Now I'll go to the Judge's party. I'll have another glass first. Your health, Thea! So you came up to spy on me, eh? I'll drink the Sheriff's health--_everybody's_ health!

[_He tries to get more punch._

HEDDA.

[_Stopping him._] No more now. You are going to a party, remember.

[GEORGE _and_ TESMAN _come in from back-room._

LOeVBORG.

Don't be angry, Thea. I was fallen for a moment. Now I'm up again! [MRS. ELVSTED _beams with delight._] Judge, I'll come to your party, as you _are_ so pressing, and I'll read George my manuscript all the evening. I'll do all in _my_ power to make that party go!

GEORGE.

No? fancy! that _will_ be amusing!

HEDDA.

There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures! But Mr. Loevborg must be back at ten, to take dear Thea home!

MRS. ELVSTED.

Oh, goodness, yes! [_In concealed agony._] Mr. Loevborg, I shan't go away till you do!

[_The three men go out laughing merrily; the Act-drop is lowered for a minute; when it is raised, it is 7_ A.M., _and_ MRS. ELVSTED _and_ HEDDA _are discovered sitting up, with rugs around them._

MRS. ELVSTED.

[_Wearily._] Seven in the morning, and Mr. Loevborg not here to take me home _yet_! what can he be doing?

HEDDA.

[_Yawning._] Reading to Tesman, with vine-leaves in his hair, I suppose. Perhaps he has got to the third part.

MRS. ELVSTED.

Oh, do you _really_ think so, Hedda. Oh, if I could but hope he was doing that!

HEDDA.

You silly little ninny! I should like to scorch your hair off. Go to bed!

[MRS. ELVSTED _goes_.

[_Enter_ GEORGE.

GEORGE.

I'm a little late, eh? But we made _such_ a night of it. Fancy! It was most amusing. Ejlert read his book to me--think of that! Astonishing book! Oh, we really had great fun! I wish _I'd_ written it. Pity he's so irreclaimable.

HEDDA.

I suppose you mean he has more of the courage of life than most people?

GEORGE.

Good Lord! He had the courage to get more drunk than most people. But, altogether, it was what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy. We finished up by going to have early coffee with some of these jolly chaps, and poor old Loevborg dropped his precious manuscript in the mud, and I picked it up--and here it is! Fancy if anything were to happen to it! He never could write it again. _Wouldn't_ it be sad, eh? Don't tell any one about it.

[_He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, and rushes out_; HEDDA _hides the packet as_ BRACK _enters._

BRACK.

_Another_ early call, you see! My party was such a singularly animated _soiree_ that I haven't undressed all night. Oh, it was the liveliest affair conceivable! And, like a true Norwegian host, I tracked Loevborg home; and it is only my duty, as a friend of the house, and cock of the walk, to take the first opportunity of telling you that he finished up the evening by coming to mere loggerheads with a red-haired opera-singer, and being taken off to the police-station! You mustn't have him here any more. Remember our little triple alliance!

HEDDA.

[_Her smile fading away._] You are certainly a dangerous person--but you must not get a hold over _me_!

BRACK.

[_Ambiguously._] What an idea! But I might--I am an insinuating dog. Good morning!

[_Goes out._

LOeVBORG.

[_Bursting in, confused and excited._] I suppose you've heard where _I've_ been?

HEDDA.

[_Evasively._] I heard you had a very jolly party at Judge Brack's.

[MRS. ELVSTED _comes in._

LOeVBORG.

It's all over. I don't mean to do any more work. I've no use for a companion now, Thea. Go home to your sheriff!

MRS. ELVSTED.

[_Agitated._] Never! I want to be with you when your book comes out!

LOeVBORG.

It won't _come_ out--I've torn it up! [MRS. ELVSTED _rushes out, wringing her hands._] Mrs. Tesman, I told her a lie--but no matter. I haven't torn my book up--I've done worse! I've taken it about to several parties, and it's been through a police-row with me--now I've lost it. Even if I found it again, it wouldn't be the same--not to me! I am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar. So I must make an end of it altogether!

HEDDA.

Quite so--but look here, you must do it beautifully. I don't insist on your putting vine-leaves in your hair--but do it beautifully. [_Fetches pistol._] See, here is one of General Gabler's pistols--do it with _that_!

LOeVBORG.

Thanks!

[_He takes the pistol, and goes out through the hall-door; as soon as he has gone_, HEDDA _brings out the manuscript, and puts it on the fire, whispering to herself, as Curtain falls._

* * * * *