That really doesn’t matter, Mrs. Ekdal.
HIALMAR.
I call it quite a nice room, and not at all badly furnished either.
GINA.
But remember the pair of them underneath.
GREGERS.
What pair?
GINA.
Well, there’s one as has been a tutor——
HIALMAR.
That’s Molvik—Mr. Molvik, B.A.
GINA.
And then there’s a doctor, by the name of Relling.
GREGERS.
Relling? I know him a little; he practised for a time up in Höidal.
GINA.
They’re a regular rackety pair, they are. As often as not, they’re out
on the loose in the evenings; and then they come home at all hours, and
they’re not always just——
GREGERS.
One soon gets used to that sort of thing. I daresay I shall be like the
wild duck——
GINA.
H'm; I think you ought to sleep upon it first, anyway.
GREGERS.
You seem very unwilling to have me in the house, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA.
Oh no! What makes you think _that_?
HIALMAR.
Well, you really behave strangely about it, Gina. [_To GREGERS._] Then I
suppose you intend to remain in the town for the present?
GREGERS.
[_Putting on his overcoat._] Yes, now I intend to remain here.
HIALMAR.
And yet not at your father’s? What do you propose to do, then?
GREGERS.
Ah, if I only knew _that_, Hialmar, I shouldn’t be so badly off! But
when one has the misfortune to be called Gregers—! “Gregers”—and then
“Werle” after it; did you ever hear anything so hideous?
HIALMAR.
Oh, I don’t think so at all.
GREGERS.
Ugh! Bah! I feel I should like to spit upon the fellow that answers to
such a name. But when a man is once for all doomed to be Gregers—Werle
in this world, as I am——
HIALMAR.
[_Laughs._] Ha ha! If you weren’t Gregers Werle, what would you like to
be?
GREGERS.
If I could choose, I should like best to be a clever dog.
GINA.
A dog!
HEDVIG.
[_Involuntarily._] Oh no!
GREGERS.
Yes, an amazingly clever dog; one that goes to the bottom after wild
ducks when they dive and bite themselves fast in tangle and sea-weed,
down among the ooze.
HIALMAR.
Upon my word now, Gregers—I don’t in the least know what you’re driving
at.
GREGERS.
Oh well, you might not be much the wiser if you did. It’s understood,
then, that I move in early to-morrow morning. [_To GINA._] I won’t give
you any trouble; I do everything for myself. [_To HIALMAR._] We can talk
about the rest to-morrow.—Good-night, Mrs. Ekdal. [_Nods to HEDVIG._]
Good-night.
GINA.
Good-night, Mr. Werle.
HEDVIG.
Good-night.
HIALMAR.
[_Who has lighted a candle._] Wait a moment; I must show you a light;
the stairs are sure to be dark.
[GREGERS _and_ HIALMAR _go out by the passage door._
GINA.
[_Looking straight before her, with her sewing in her lap._] Wasn’t that
queer-like talk about wanting to be a dog?
HEDVIG.
Do you know, mother—I believe he meant something quite different by
that.
GINA.
Why, what _should_ he mean?
HEDVIG.
Oh, I don’t know; but it seemed to me he meant something different from
what he said—all the time.
GINA.
Do you think so? Yes, it was sort of queer.
HIALMAR.
[_Comes back._] The lamp was still burning. [_Puts out the candle and
sets it down._] Ah, now one can get a mouthful of food at last. [_Begins
to eat the bread and butter._] Well, you see, Gina—if only you keep your
eyes open——
GINA.
How, keep your eyes open——?
HIALMAR.
Why, haven’t we at last had the luck to get the room let? And just
think—to a person like Gregers—a good old friend.
GINA.
Well, I don’t know what to say about it.
HEDVIG.
Oh mother, you’ll see; it’ll be such fun!
HIALMAR.
You’re very strange. You were so bent upon getting the room let before;
and now you don’t like it.
GINA.
Yes I do, Ekdal; if it had only been to some one else——But what do you
suppose Mr. Werle will say?
HIALMAR.
Old Werle? It doesn’t concern him.
GINA.
But surely you can see that there’s something amiss between them again,
or the young man wouldn’t be leaving home. You know very well those two
can’t get on with each other.
HIALMAR.
Very likely not, but——
GINA.
And now Mr. Werle may fancy it’s you that has egged him on——
HIALMAR.
Let him fancy so, then! Mr. Werle has done a great deal for me; far be
it from me to deny it. But that doesn’t make me everlastingly dependent
upon him.
GINA.
But, my dear Ekdal, maybe grandfather’ll suffer for it. He may loose the
little bit of work he gets from Gråberg.
HIALMAR.
I could almost say: so much the better! Is it not humiliating for a man
like me to see his grey-haired father treated as a pariah? But now I
believe the fulness of time is at hand. [_Takes a fresh piece of bread
and butter._] As sure as I have a mission in life, I mean to fulfil it
now!
HEDVIG.
Oh yes, father, do!
GINA.
Hush! Don’t wake him!
HIALMAR.
[_More softly._] I will fulfil it, I say. The day shall come when——And
that is why I say it’s a good thing we have let the room; for that makes
me more independent. The man who has a mission in life must be
independent. [_By the, arm-chair, with emotion._] Poor old white-haired
father! Rely on your Hialmar. He has broad shoulders—strong shoulders,
at any rate. You shall yet wake up some fine day and——[_To GINA._] Do
you not believe it?
GINA.
[_Rising._] Yes, of course I do; but in the meantime suppose we see
about getting him to bed.
HIALMAR.
Yes, come.
[_They take hold of the old man carefully._
-----
Footnote 15:
The “sunshine” of Court favour.
ACT THIRD.
HIALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. It is morning: the daylight shines through the
large window in the slanting roof; the curtain is drawn back._
HIALMAR _is sitting at the table, busy retouching a photograph; several
others lie before him. Presently_ GINA, _wearing her hat and
cloak, enters by the passage door; she has a covered basket on her
arm._
HIALMAR.
Back already, Gina?
GINA.
Oh yes, one can’t let the grass grow under one’s feet.
[_Sets her basket on a chair, and takes off her things._
HIALMAR.
Did you look in at Gregers' room?
GINA.
Yes, that I did. It’s a rare sight, I can tell you; he’s made a pretty
mess to start off with.
HIALMAR.
How so?
GINA.
He was determined to do everything for himself, he said; so he sets to
work to light the stove, and what must he do but screw down the damper
till the whole room is full of smoke. Ugh! There was a smell fit to——
HIALMAR.
Well, really!
GINA.
But that’s not the worst of it; for then he thinks he’ll put out the
fire, and goes and empties his water-jug into the stove, and so makes
the whole floor one filthy puddle.
HIALMAR.
How annoying!
GINA.
I've got the porter’s wife to clear up after him, pig that he is! But
the room won’t be fit to live in till the afternoon.
HIALMAR.
What’s he doing with himself in the meantime?
GINA.
He said he was going out for a little while.
HIALMAR.
I looked in upon him too, for a moment—after you had gone.
GINA.
So I heard. You’ve asked him to lunch.
HIALMAR.
Just to a little bit of early lunch, you know. It’s his first day—we can
hardly do less. You’ve got something in the house, I suppose?
GINA.
I shall have to find something or other.
HIALMAR.
And don’t cut it too fine, for I fancy Relling and Molvik are coming up
too. I just happened to meet Relling on the stairs, you see; so I had
to——
GINA.
Oh, are we to have those two as well?
HIALMAR.
Good Lord—a couple more or less can’t make any difference.
OLD EKDAL.
[_Opens his door and looks in._] I say, Hialmar——[_Sees GINA._] Oh!
GINA.
Do you want anything, grandfather?
EKDAL.
Oh no, it doesn’t matter. H'm!
[_Retires again._
GINA.
[_Takes up the basket._] Be sure you see that he doesn’t go out.
HIALMAR.
All right, all right. And, Gina, a little herring-salad wouldn’t be a
bad idea; Relling and Molvik were out on the loose again last night.
GINA.
If only they don’t come before I'm ready for them——
HIALMAR.
No, of course they won’t; take your own time.
GINA.
Very well; and meanwhile you can be working a bit.
HIALMAR.
Well, I am working! I am working as hard as I can!
GINA.
Then you’ll have that job off your hands, you see.
[_She goes out to the kitchen with her basket._
[HIALMAR _sits for a time pencilling away at the photograph,
in an indolent and listless manner._
EKDAL.
[_Peeps in, looks round the studio, and says softly_:] Are you busy?
HIALMAR.
Yes I'm toiling at these wretched pictures——
EKDAL.
Well well, never mind,—since you’re so busy——h’m!
[_He goes out again; the door stands open._
HIALMAR.
[_Continues for some time in silence; then he lays down his brush and
goes over to the door._] Are _you_ busy, father?
EKDAL.
[_In a grumbling tone, within._] If you’re busy, I'm busy too. H'm!
HIALMAR.
Oh, very well, then. _Goes to his work again._
EKDAL.
[_Presently, coming to the door again._] H'm; I say, Hialmar, I'm not so
_very_ busy, you know.
HIALMAR.
I thought you were writing.
EKDAL.
Oh, devil take it! can’t Gråberg wait a day or two? After all, it’s not
a matter of life and death.
HIALMAR.
No; and you’re not his slave either.
EKDAL.
And about that other business in there——
HIALMAR.
Just what I was thinking of. Do you want to go in. Shall I open the door
for you?
EKDAL.
Well, it wouldn’t be a bad notion.
HIALMAR.
[_Rises._] Then we’d have _that_ off our hands.
EKDAL.
Yes, exactly. It’s got to be ready first thing to-morrow. It is
to-morrow, isn’t it? H'm?
HIALMAR.
Yes, of course it’s to-morrow.
[HIALMAR _and_ EKDAL _push aside each his half of the sliding
door. The morning sun is shining in through the skylights;
some doves are flying about; others sit cooing, upon the
perches; the hens are heard clucking now and then, further
back in the garret._
HIALMAR.
There; now you can get to work, father.
EKDAL.
[_Goes in._] Aren’t you coming too?
HIALMAR.
Well really, do you know——; I almost think——[_Sees GINA at the kitchen
door._] I? No; I haven’t time; I must work.—But now for our new
contrivance——
[_He pulls a cord, a curtain slips down inside, the lower part
consisting of a piece of old sailcloth, the upper part of a
stretched fishing net. The floor of the garret is thus no
longer visible._
HIALMAR.
[_Goes to the table._] So! Now, perhaps I can sit in peace for a little
while.
GINA.
Is he rampaging in there again?
HIALMAR.
Would you rather have had him slip down to Madam Eriksen’s. [_Seats
himself._] Do you want anything? You know you said——
GINA.
I only wanted to ask if you think we can lay the table for lunch here?
HIALMAR.
Yes; we have no early appointment, I suppose?
GINA.
No, I expect no one to day except those two sweethearts that are to be
taken together.
HIALMAR.
Why the deuce couldn’t they be taken together another day!
GINA.
Don’t you know, I told them to come in the afternoon, when you are
having your nap.
HIALMAR.
Oh, that’s capital. Very well, let us have lunch here then.
GINA.
All right; but there’s no hurry about laying the cloth; you can have the
table for a good while yet.
HIALMAR.
Do you think I am not sticking at my work? I'm at it as hard as I can!
GINA.
Then you’ll be free later on, you know.
[_Goes out into the kitchen again. Short pause._
EKDAL.
[_In the garret doorway, behind the net._] Hialmar!
HIALMAR.
Well?
EKDAL.
Afraid we shall have to move the water-trough, after all.
HIALMAR.
What else have I been saying all along?
EKDAL.
H'm—h’m—h’m.
[_Goes away from the door again._
[HIALMAR _goes on working a little; glances towards the
garret and half rises._ HEDVIG _comes in from the kitchen._
HIALMAR.
[_Sits down again hurriedly._] What do you want?
HEDVIG.
I only wanted to come in beside you, father.
HIALMAR.
[_After a pause._] What makes you go prying around like that? Perhaps
you are told off to watch me?
HEDVIG.
No, no.
HIALMAR.
What is your mother doing out there?
HEDVIG.
Oh, mother’s in the middle of making the herring-salad. [_Goes to the
table._] Isn’t there any little thing I could help you with, father?
HIALMAR.
Oh no. It is right that I should bear the whole burden—so long as my
strength holds out. Set your mind at rest, Hedvig; if only your father
keeps his health——
HEDVIG.
Oh no, father! You mustn’t talk in that horrid way.
[_She wanders about a little, stops by the doorway and looks
into the garret._
HIALMAR.
Tell me, what is he doing?
HEDVIG.
I think he’s making a new path to the water-trough.
HIALMAR.
He can never manage _that_ by himself! And here am I doomed to sit——!
HEDVIG.
[_Goes to him._] Let me take the brush, father; I _can_ do it, quite
well.
HIALMAR.
Oh nonsense; you will only hurt your eyes.
HEDVIG.
Not a bit. Give me the brush.
HIALMAR.
[_Rising._] Well, it won’t take more than a minute or two.
HEDVIG.
Pooh, what harm can it do then? [_Takes the brush._] There! [_Seats
herself._] I can begin upon this one.
HIALMAR.
But mind you don’t hurt your eyes! Do you hear? _I_ won’t be answerable;
you do it on your own responsibility—understand that.
HEDVIG.
[_Retouching._] Yes yes, I understand.
HIALMAR.
You are quite clever at it, Hedvig. Only a minute or two, you know.
[_He slips through by the edge of the curtain into the garret._
HEDVIG _sits at her work._ HIALMAR _and_ EKDAL _are heard
disputing inside._
HIALMAR.
[_Appears behind the net._] I say, Hedvig—give me those pincers that are
lying on the shelf. And the chisel. [_Turns away inside._] Now you shall
see, father. Just let me show you first what I mean!
[HEDVIG _has fetched the required tools from the shelf, and
hands them to him through the net._
HIALMAR.
Ah, thanks. I didn’t come a moment too soon.
[_Goes back from the curtain again; they are heard carpentering
and talking inside._ HEDVIG _stands looking in at them. A
moment later there is a knock at the passage door; she does
not notice it._
GREGERS WERLE.
[_Bareheaded, in indoor dress, enters and slops near the door._] H'm——!
HEDVIG.
[_Turns and goes towards him._] Good morning. Please come in.
GREGERS.
Thank you. [_Looking towards the garret._] You seem to have workpeople
in the house.
HEDVIG.
No, it is only father and grandfather. I'll tell them you are here.
GREGERS.
No no, don’t do that; I would rather wait a little.
[_Seats himself on the sofa._
HEDVIG.
It looks so untidy here——
[_Begins to clear away the photographs._
GREGERS.
Oh, don’t take them away. Are those prints that have to be finished off?
HEDVIG.
Yes, they are a few I was helping father with.
GREGERS.
Please don’t let me disturb you.
HEDVIG.
Oh no.
[_She gathers the things to her and sits down to work;_ GREGERS
_looks at her, meanwhile, in silence._
GREGERS.
Did the wild duck sleep well last night?
HEDVIG.
Yes, I think so, thanks.
GREGERS.
[_Turning towards the garret._] It looks quite different by day from
what it did last night in the moonlight.
HEDVIG.
Yes, it changes ever so much. It looks different in the morning and in
the afternoon; and it’s different on rainy days from what it is in fine
weather.
GREGERS.
Have you noticed that?
HEDVIG.
Yes, how could I help it?
GREGERS.
Are you, too, fond of being in there with the wild duck?
HEDVIG.
Yes, when I can manage it——
GREGERS.
But I suppose you haven’t much spare time; you go to school, no doubt.
HEDVIG.
No, not now; father is afraid of my hurting my eyes.
GREGERS.
Oh; then he reads with you himself?
HEDVIG.
Father has promised to read with me; but he has never had time yet.
GREGERS.
Then is there nobody else to give you a little help?
HEDVIG.
Yes, there is Mr. Molvik; but he is not always exactly—quite——
GREGERS.
Sober?
HEDVIG.
Yes, I suppose that’s it!
GREGERS.
Why, then you must have any amount of time on your hands. And in there I
suppose it is a sort of world by itself?
HEDVIG.
Oh yes, quite. And there are such lots of wonderful things.
GREGERS.
Indeed?
HEDVIG.
Yes, there are big cupboards full of books; and a great many of the
books have pictures in them.
GREGERS.
Aha!
HEDVIG.
And there’s an old bureau with drawers and flaps, and a big clock with
figures that go out and in. But the clock isn’t going now.
GREGERS.
So time has come to a standstill in there—in the wild duck’s domain.
HEDVIG.
Yes. And then there’s an old paint-box and things of that sort; and all
the books.
GREGERS.
And you read the books, I suppose?
HEDVIG.
Oh yes, when I get the chance. Most of them are English though, and I
don’t understand English. But then I look at the pictures.—There is one
great big book called “Harrison’s History of London.”[16] It must be a
hundred years old; and there are such heaps of pictures in it. At the
beginning there is Death with an hour-glass and a woman. I think that is
horrid. But then there are all the other pictures of churches, and
castles, and streets, and great ships sailing on the sea.
GREGERS.
But tell me, where did all those wonderful things come from?
HEDVIG.
Oh, an old sea captain once lived here, and he brought them home with
him. They used to call him “The Flying Dutchman.” That was curious,
because he wasn’t a Dutchman at all.
GREGERS.
Was he not?
HEDVIG.
No. But at last he was drowned at sea; and so he left all those things
behind him.
GREGERS.
Tell me now—when you are sitting in there looking at the pictures, don’t
you wish you could travel and see the real world for yourself?
HEDVIG.
Oh no! I mean always to stay at home and help father and mother.
GREGERS.
To retouch photographs?
HEDVIG.
No, not only that. I should love above everything to learn to engrave
pictures like those in the English books.
GREGERS.
H'm. What does your father say to that?
HEDVIG.
I don’t think father likes it; father is strange about such things. Only
think, he talks of my learning basket-making, and straw-plaiting! But I
don’t think _that_ would be much good.
GREGERS.
Oh no, I don’t think so either.
HEDVIG.
But father was right in saying that if I had learnt basket-making I
could have made the new basket for the wild duck.
GREGERS.
So you could; and it was you that ought to have done it, wasn’t it?
HEDVIG.
Yes, for it’s _my_ wild duck.
GREGERS.
Of course it is.
HEDVIG.
Yes, it belongs to _me_. But I lend it to father and grandfather as
often as they please.
GREGERS.
Indeed? What do they do with it?
HEDVIG.
Oh, they look after it, and build places for it, and so on.
GREGERS.
I see; for no doubt the wild duck is by far the most distinguished
inhabitant of the garret?
HEDVIG.
Yes, indeed she is; for she is a _real_ wild fowl, you know. And then
she is so much to be pitied; she has no one to care for, poor thing.
GREGERS.
She has no family, as the rabbits have——
HEDVIG.
No. The hens too, many of them, were chickens together; but she has been
taken right away from all her friends. And then there is so much that is
strange about the wild duck. Nobody knows her, and nobody knows where
she came from either.
GREGERS.
And she has been down in the depths of the sea.
HEDVIG.
[_With a quick glance at him, represses a smile and asks_:] Why do you
say “the depths of the sea”?
GREGERS.
What else should I say?
HEDVIG.
You could say “the bottom of the sea.”[17]
GREGERS.
Oh, mayn’t I just as well say the depths of the sea?
HEDVIG.
Yes; but it sounds so strange to me when other people speak of the
depths of the sea.
GREGERS.
Why so? Tell me why?
HEDVIG.
No, I won’t; it’s so stupid.
GREGERS.
Oh no, I am sure it’s not. Do tell me why you smiled.
HEDVIG.
Well, this is the reason: whenever I come to realise suddenly—in a
flash—what is in there, it always seems to me that the whole room and
everything in it should be called “the depths of the sea.”—But that is
so stupid.
GREGERS.
You mustn’t say that.
HEDVIG.
Oh yes, for you know it is only a garret.
GREGERS.
[_Looks fixedly at her._] Are you so sure of that?
HEDVIG.
[_Astonished._] That it’s a garret?
GREGERS.
Are you quite certain of it?
[HEDVIG _is silent, and looks at him open-mouthed._ GINA _comes
in from the kitchen with the table things._
GREGERS.
[_Rising._] I have come in upon you too early.
GINA.
Oh, you must be somewhere; and we’re nearly ready now, anyway. Clear the
table, Hedvig.
[HEDVIG _clears away her things; she and_ GINA _lay the cloth
during what follows._ GREGERS _seats himself in the
arm-chair, and turns over an album._
GREGERS.
I hear you can retouch, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA.
[_With a side glance._] Yes, I can.
GREGERS.
That was exceedingly lucky.
GINA.
How—lucky?
GREGERS.
Since Ekdal took to photography, I mean.
HEDVIG.
Mother can take photographs too.
GINA.
Oh, yes; I was bound to learn _that_.
GREGERS.
So it is really you that carry on the business, I suppose?
GINA.
Yes, when Ekdal hasn’t time himself——
GREGERS.
He is a great deal taken up with his old father, I daresay.
GINA.
Yes; and then you can’t expect a man like Ekdal to do nothing but take
car-de-visits of Dick, Tom and Harry.
GREGERS.
I quite agree with you; but having once gone in for the thing——
GINA.
You can surely understand, Mr. Werle, that Ekdal’s not like one of your
common photographers.
GREGERS.
Of course not; but still——
[_A shot fired within the garret._
GREGERS.
[_Starting up._] What’s that?
GINA.
Ugh! now they’re firing again!
GREGERS.
Have they firearms in there?
HEDVIG.
They are out shooting.
GREGERS.
What! [_At the door of the garret._] Are you shooting, Hialmar?
HIALMAR.
[_Inside the net._] Are you there? I didn’t know; I was so taken
up——[_To HEDVIG._] Why did you not let us know?
[_Comes into the studio._
GREGERS.
Do you go shooting in the garret?
HIALMAR.
[_Showing a double-barrelled pistol._] Oh, only with this thing.
GINA.
Yes, you and grandfather will do yourselves a mischief some day with
that there pigstol.
HIALMAR.
[_With irritation._] I believe I have told you that this kind of firearm
is called a _pistol_.
GINA.
Oh, that doesn’t make it much better, that I can see.
GREGERS.
So you have become a sportsman too, Hialmar.
HIALMAR.
Only a little rabbit-shooting now and then. Mostly to please father, you
understand.
GINA.
Men are strange beings; they must always have something to pervert
theirselves with.
HIALMAR.
[_Snappishly._] Just so; we must always have something to _divert_
ourselves with.
GINA.
Yes, that’s just what I say.
HIALMAR.
H'm. [_To GREGERS._] You see the garret is fortunately so situated that
no one can hear us shooting. [_Lays the pistol on the top shelf of the
bookcase._] Don’t touch the pistol, Hedvig! One of the barrels is
loaded; remember that.
GREGERS.
[_Looking through the net._] You have a fowling-piece too, I see.
HIALMAR.
That is father’s old gun. It’s of no use now; something has gone wrong
with the lock. But it’s fun to have it all the same; for we can take it
to pieces now and then, and clean and grease it, and screw it together
again.—Of course, it’s mostly father that fiddle-faddles with all that
sort of thing.
HEDVIG.
[_Beside GREGERS._] Now you can see the wild duck properly.
GREGERS.
I was just looking at her. One of her wings seems to me to droop a bit.
HEDVIG.
Well, no wonder; her wing was broken, you know.
GREGERS.
And she trails one foot a little. Isn’t that so?
HIALMAR.
Perhaps a very little bit.
HEDVIG.
Yes, it was by that foot the dog took hold of her.
HIALMAR.
But otherwise she hasn’t the least thing the matter with her; and that
is simply marvellous for a creature that has a charge of shot in her
body, and has been between a dog’s teeth——
GREGERS.
[_With a glance at_ HEDVIG]——and that has lain in the depths of the
sea—so long.
HEDVIG.
[_Smiling._] Yes.
GINA.
[_Laying the table._] That blessëd wild duck! What a lot of fuss you do
make over her.
HIALMAR.
H'm;—will lunch soon be ready?
GINA.
Yes, directly. Hedvig, you must come and help me now.
[GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go out into the kitchen._
HIALMAR.
[_In a low voice._] I think you had better not stand there looking in at
father; he doesn’t like it. [GREGERS _moves away from the garret door._]
Besides I may as well shut up before the others come. [_Claps his hands
to drive the fowls back._] Shh—shh, in with you! [_Draws up the curtain
and pulls the doors together._] All the contrivances are my own
invention. It’s really quite amusing to have things of this sort to
potter with, and to put to rights when they get out of order. And it’s
absolutely necessary, too; for Gina objects to having rabbits and fowls
in the studio.
GREGERS.
To be sure; and I suppose the studio is your wife’s special department?
HIALMAR.
As a rule, I leave the everyday details of business to her; for then I
can take refuge in the parlour and give my mind to more important
things.
GREGERS.
What things may they be, Hialmar?
HIALMAR.
I wonder you have not asked that question sooner. But perhaps you
haven’t heard of the invention?
GREGERS.
The invention? No.
HIALMAR.
Really? Have you not? Oh no, out there in the wilds——
GREGERS.
So you have invented something, have you?
HIALMAR.