SCENE.--_The same Room, but--it being evening--darker than ever--The
crape curtains are drawn. A Servant, with black ribbons in her cap,
and red eyes, comes in and lights the gas quietly and carefully.
Chords are heard on the piano in the back Drawing-room. Presently_
HEDDA _comes in and looks out into the darkness. A short pause. Enter_
GEORGE TESMAN.
_George_. I am _so_ uneasy about poor LÖVBORG. Fancy! he is not at
home. Mrs. ELVSTED told me he had been here early this morning, so I
suppose you gave him back his manuscript, eh?
_Hedda_ (_cold and immovable, supported by arm-chair_). No, I put it
on the fire instead.
_George_. On the fire! LÖVBORG'S wonderful new book that he read to
me at BRACK'S party, when we had that wild revelry last night! Fancy
_that!_ But, I say, HEDDA--isn't that _rather_--eh? _Too_ bad, you
know--really. A great work like that. How on earth did you come to
think of it?
_Hedda_ (_suppressing an almost imperceptible smile_). Well, dear
GEORGE, you gave me a tolerably strong hint.
_George_. Me? Well, to be sure--that _is_ a joke! Why, I only said
that I envied him for writing such a book, and it would put me
entirely in the shade if it came out, and if anything was to happen to
it, I should never forgive myself, as poor LÖVBORG couldn't write it
all over again, and so we must take the greatest care of it! And then
I left it on a chair and went away--that was all! And you went and
burnt the book all up! Bless me, who _would_ have expected it?
_Hedda_. Nobody, you dear simple old soul! But I did it for your
sake--it was _love_, GEORGE!
_George_ (_in an outburst between doubt and joy_). HEDDA, you don't
mean that! Your love takes such queer forms sometimes, Yes, but
yes--(_laughing in excess of joy_), why, you _must_ be fond of me!
Just think of that now! Well, you _are_ fun, HEDDA! Look here, I must
just run and tell the housemaid that--she will enjoy the joke so, eh?
_Hedda_ (_coldly, in self-command_). It is surely not necessary, even
for a clever Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social drama, to
make quite such a fool of himself as all that?
_George_. No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep it
quiet--though I _must_ tell Aunt JULIE--it will make her so happy to
hear that you burnt a manuscript on my account! And, besides, I should
like to ask her whether that's a usual thing with young wives. (_Looks
uneasy and pensive again._) But poor old EJLERT'S manuscript! Oh Lor,
you know! Well, well! [Mrs. ELVSTED _comes in_.
_Mrs. E._ Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. LÖVBORG. Something
has happened to him, I'm sure!
_Judge Brack_ (_comes in from the hall, with a new hat in his hand_).
You have guessed it, first time. Something _has!_
_Mrs. E._ Oh, dear, good gracious! What is it? Something distressing,
I'm certain of it! [_d._
_Brack_ (_pleasantly_). That depends on how one takes it. He has shot
himself, and is in a hospital now, that's all!
_George_ (_sympathetically_). That's sad, eh? poor old LÖVBORG! Well,
I _am_ cut up to hear that. Fancy, though, eh?
_Hedda_. Was it through the temple, or through the breast? The breast?
Well, one can do it beautifully through the breast, too. Do you know,
as an advanced woman, I like an act of that sort--it's so positive, to
have the courage to settle the account with himself--it's beautiful,
really!
_Mrs. E._ Oh, HEDDA, what an odd way to look at it! But never mind
poor dear Mr. LÖVBORG now. What _we've_ got to do is to see if we
can't put his wonderful manuscript, that he said he had torn to
pieces, together again. (_Takes a bundle of small pages out of the
pocket of her mantle._) There are the loose scraps he dictated it to
me from. I hid them on the chance of some such emergency. And if
dear Mr. TESMAN and I were to put our heads together, I _do_ think
something might come of it.
_George_. Fancy! I will dedicate my life--or all I can spare of it--to
the task. I seem to feel I owe him some slight amends, perhaps. No use
crying over spilt milk, eh, Mrs. ELVSTED? We'll sit down--just you and
I--in the back drawing-room, and see if you can't inspire me as you
did him, eh?
_Mrs. E._ Oh, goodness, yes! I should like it--if it only might be
possible!
[GEORGE _and_ Mrs. E. _go into the back Drawing-room and
become absorbed in eager conversation_; HEDDA _sits in a chair in the
front room, and a little later_ BRACK _crosses over to her._
_Hedda_ (_in a low tone_). Oh, Judge, _what_ a relief to know that
everything--including LÖVBORG'S pistol--went off so well! In the
breast! Isn't there a veil of unintentional beauty in that? Such an
act of voluntary courage, too!
_Brack_ (_smiles_). Hm!--perhaps, dear Mrs. HEDDA--
_Hedda_ (_enthusiastically_). But _wasn't_ it sweet of him! To have
the courage to live his own life after his own fashion--to break away
from the banquet of life--_so_ early and _so_ drunk! A beautiful act
like that _does_ appeal to a superior woman's imagination!
_Brack_. Sorry to shatter your poetical illusions, little Mrs. HEDDA,
but, as a matter of fact, our lamented friend met his end under other
circumstances. The shot did _not_ strike him in the _breast_--but--
[_Pauses._
_Hedda_ (_excitedly_). General GABLER'S pistols! I might have known
it! Did they _ever_ shoot straight? Where _was_ he hit, then?
_Brack_ (_in a discreet undertone_). A little lower down!
_Hedda_. Oh, _how_ disgusting!--how vulgar!--how ridiculous!--like
everything else about me!
_Brack_. Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and all that--but
a trifle squalid, perhaps. And why did you give LÖVBORG your pistol,
when it was certain to be traced by the police? For a charming
cold-blooded woman with a clear head and no scruples, wasn't it just a
leetle foolish?
_Hedda_. Perhaps; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, and he
didn't! Oh, I've just admitted that I _did_ give him the pistol--how
annoyingly unwise of me! Now I'm in _your_ power, I suppose?
_Brack_. Precisely--for some reason it's not easy to understand.
But it's inevitable, and you know how you dread anything approaching
scandal. All your past proceedings show that. (_To_ GEORGE _and_ Mrs.
E., _who come in together from the back-room._) Well, how are you
getting on with the reconstruction of poor LÖVBORG'S great work, eh?
[Illustration: "What! the accounts of all those everlasting
bores settled?"]
_George_. Capitally; we've made out the first two parts already. And
really, HEDDA, I do believe Mrs. ELVSTED _is_ inspiring me; I begin to
feel it coming on. Fancy that!
_Mrs. E._ Yes, goodness! HEDDA, _won't_ it be lovely if I can. I mean
to try _so_ hard!
_Hedda_. Do, you dear little silly rabbit; and while you are trying I
will go into the back drawing-room and lie down.
[_She goes into the back-room and draws the curtains. Short pause.
Suddenly she is heard playing_ "The Bogie Man" _within on the piano._
_George_. But, dearest HEDDA, don't play "_The Bogie Man_" this
evening. As one of my aunts is dead, and poor old LÖVBORG has shot
himself, it seems just a little pointed, eh?
_Hedda_ (_puts her head out between the curtains_). All right! I'll be
quiet after this. I'm going to practise with the late General GABLER'S
pistol!
[_Closes the curtains again_; GEORGE _gets behind the stove_, Judge
BRACK _under the table, and_ Mrs. ELVSTED _under the sofa. A shot is
heard within._
_George_ (_behind the stove_). Eh, look here, I tell you what--she's
hit _me!_ Think of that!
[_His legs are visibly agitated for a short
time. Another shot is heard._
_Mrs. E._ (_under the sofa_). Oh, please, not me! Oh, goodness, now
I can't inspire anybody any more. Oh!
[_Her feet, which can be seen
under the valance, quiver a little, and then are suddenly still._
_Brack_ (_vivaciously, from under the table_). I say, Mrs. HEDDA,
I'm coming in every evening--we will have great fun here togeth--
(_Another shot is heard._) Bless me! to bring down the poor old
cock-of-the-walk--it's unsportsmanlike!--it's--.
[_The table-cloth is violently agitated for a minute, and presently
the curtains open, and_ HEDDA _appears._
_Hedda_ (_clearly and firmly_). I've been trying in there to shoot
myself beautifully--but with General GABLER'S pistol--(_She lifts the
tablecloth, then looks behind the stove and under the sofa._) What!
the accounts of all those everlasting bores settled? Then my suicide
becomes unnecessary. Yes, I feel the courage of life once more!
[_She goes into the back-room and plays_ "The Funeral March of a
Marionette" _as the Curtain falls._
THE END (_with the usual apologies_).
* * * * *