imagine that when I resolved to devote myself to photography, it wasn’t
simply with the idea of taking likenesses of all sorts of commonplace
people.
GREGERS.
No; your wife was saying the same thing just now.
HIALMAR.
I swore that if I consecrated my powers to this handicraft, I would so
exalt it that it should become both an art and a science. And to that
end I determined to make this great invention.
GREGERS.
And what is the nature of the invention? What purpose does it serve?
HIALMAR.
Oh, my dear fellow, you mustn’t ask for details yet. It takes time, you
see. And you must not think that my motive is vanity. It is not for my
own sake that I am working. Oh no; it is my life’s mission that stands
before me night and day.
GREGERS.
What is your life’s mission?
HIALMAR.
Do you forget the old man with the silver hair?
GREGERS.
Your poor father? Well, but what can you do for him?
HIALMAR.
I can raise up his self-respect from the dead, by restoring the name of
Ekdal to honour and dignity.
GREGERS.
Then that is your life’s mission?
HIALMAR.
Yes. I will rescue the shipwrecked man. For shipwrecked he was, by the
very first blast of the storm. Even while those terrible investigations
were going on, he was no longer himself. That pistol there—the one we
use to shoot rabbits with—has played its part in the tragedy of the
house of Ekdal.
GREGERS.
The pistol? Indeed?
HIALMAR.
When the sentence of imprisonment was passed—he had the pistol in his
hand——
GREGERS.
Had he——?
HIALMAR.
Yes; but he dared not use it. His courage failed him. So broken, so
demoralised was he even then! Oh, can you understand it? He, a soldier;
he, who had shot nine bears, and who was descended from two
lieutenant-colonels—one after the other of course. Can you understand
it, Gregers?
GREGERS.
Yes, I understand it well enough.
HIALMAR.
I cannot. And once more the pistol played a part in the history of our
house. When he had put on the grey clothes and was under lock and
key—oh, that was a terrible time for me, I can tell you. I kept the
blinds drawn down over both my windows. When I peeped out, I saw the sun
shining as if nothing had happened. I could not understand it. I saw
people going along the street, laughing and talking about indifferent
things. I could not understand it. It seemed to me that the whole of
existence must be at a standstill—as if under an eclipse.
GREGERS.
I felt like that too, when my mother died.
HIALMAR.
It was in such an hour that Hialmar Ekdal pointed the pistol at his own
breast.
GREGERS.
You too thought of——!
HIALMAR.
Yes.
GREGERS.
But you did not fire?
HIALMAR.
No. At the decisive moment I won the victory over myself. I remained in
life. But I can assure you it takes some courage to choose life under
circumstances like those.
GREGERS.
Well, that depends on how you look at it.
HIALMAR.
Yes, indeed, it takes courage. But I am glad I was firm: for now I shall
soon perfect my invention; and Dr. Relling thinks, as I do myself, that
father may be allowed to wear his uniform again. I will demand that as
my sole reward.
GREGERS.
So _that_ is what he meant about his uniform——?
HIALMAR.
Yes, that is what he most yearns for. You can’t think how my heart
bleeds for him. Every time we celebrate any little family
festival—Gina’s and my wedding-day, or whatever it may be—in comes the
old man in the lieutenant’s uniform of happier days. But if he only
hears a knock at the door—for he daren’t show himself to strangers, you
know—he hurries back to his room again as fast as his old legs can carry
him. Oh, it’s heartrending for a son to see such things!
GREGERS.
How long do you think it will take you to finish your invention?
HIALMAR.
Come now, you mustn’t expect me to enter into particulars like that. An
invention is not a thing completely under one’s own control. It depends
largely on inspiration—on intuition—and it is almost impossible to
predict when the inspiration may come.
GREGERS.
But it’s advancing?
HIALMAR.
Yes, certainly, it is advancing. I turn it over in my mind every day; I
am full of it. Every afternoon, when I have had my dinner, I shut myself
up in the parlour, where I can ponder undisturbed. But I can’t be goaded
to it; it’s not a bit of good; Relling says so too.
GREGERS.
And you don’t think that all that business in the garret draws you off
and distracts you too much?
HIALMAR.
No no no; quite the contrary. You mustn’t say that. I cannot be
everlastingly absorbed in the same laborious train of thought. I must
have something alongside of it to fill up the time of waiting. The
inspiration, the intuition, you see—when it comes, it comes, and there’s
an end of it.
GREGERS.
My dear Hialmar, I almost think you have something of the wild duck in
you.
HIALMAR.
Something of the wild duck? How do you mean?
GREGERS.
You have dived down and bitten yourself fast in the undergrowth.
HIALMAR.
Are you alluding to the well-nigh fatal shot that has broken my father’s
wing—and mine too?
GREGERS.
Not exactly to _that_. I don’t say that your wing has been broken; but
you have strayed into a poisonous marsh, Hialmar; an insidious disease
has taken hold of you, and you have sunk down to die in the dark.
HIALMAR.
I? To die in the dark? Look here, Gregers, you must really leave off
talking such nonsense.
GREGERS.
Don’t be afraid; I shall find a way to help you up again. I too have a
mission in life now; I found it yesterday.
HIALMAR.
That’s all very well; but you will please leave _me_ out of it. I can
assure you that—apart from my very natural melancholy, of course—I am as
contented as any one can wish to be.
GREGERS.
Your contentment is an effect of the marsh poison.
HIALMAR.
Now, my dear Gregers, pray do not go on about disease and poison; I am
not used to that sort of talk. In my house nobody ever speaks to me
about unpleasant things.
GREGERS.
Ah, _that_ I can easily believe.
HIALMAR.
It’s not good for me you see. And there _are_ no marsh poisons here, as
you express it. The poor photographer’s roof is lowly, I know—and my
circumstances are narrow. But I am an inventor, and I am the breadwinner
of a family. That exalts me above my mean surroundings.—Ah, here comes
lunch!
GINA _and_ HEDVIG _bring bottles of ale, a decanter of brandy,
glasses, etc. At the same time,_ RELLING _and_ MOLVIK _enter
from the passage; they are both without hat or overcoat._
MOLVIK _is dressed in black._
GINA.
[_Placing the things upon the table._] Ah, you two have come in the nick
of time.
RELLING.
Molvik got it into his head that he could smell herring-salad, and then
there was no holding him.—Good morning again, Ekdal.
HIALMAR.
Gregers, let me introduce you to Mr. Molvik. Doctor—— Oh, you know
Relling, don’t you?
GREGERS.
Yes, slightly.
RELLING.
Oh, Mr. Werle, junior! Yes, we two have had one or two little skirmishes
up at the Höidal works. You’ve just moved in?
GREGERS.
I moved in this morning.
RELLING.
Molvik and I live right under you; so you haven’t far to go for the
doctor and the clergyman, if you should need anything in that line.
GREGERS.
Thanks, it’s not quite unlikely; for yesterday we were thirteen at
table.
HIALMAR.
Oh, come now, don’t let us get upon unpleasant subjects again!
RELLING.
You may make your mind easy, Ekdal; I'll be hanged if the finger of fate
points to you.
HIALMAR.
I should hope not, for the sake of my family. But let us sit down now,
and eat and drink and be merry.
GREGERS.
Shall we not wait for your father?
HIALMAR.
No, his lunch will be taken in to him later. Come along!
[_The men seat themselves at table, and eat and drink._ GINA
_and_ HEDVIG _go in and out and wait upon them._
RELLING.
Molvik was frightfully screwed yesterday, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA.
Really? Yesterday again?
RELLING.
Didn’t you hear him when I brought him home last night?
GINA.
No, I can’t say I did.
RELLING.
That was a good thing, for Molvik was disgusting last night.
GINA.
Is that true, Molvik?
MOLVIK.
Let us draw a veil over last night’s proceedings. That sort of thing is
totally foreign to my better self.
RELLING.
[_To_ GREGERS.] It comes over him like a sort of possession, and then I
have to go out on the loose with him. Mr. Molvik is dæmonic, you see.
GREGERS.
Dæmonic?
RELLING.
Molvik is dæmonic, yes.
GREGERS.
H'm.
RELLING.
And dæmonic natures are not made to walk straight through the world;
they must meander a little now and then.—Well, so you still stick up
there at those horrible grimy works?
GREGERS.
I have stuck there until now.
RELLING.
And did you ever manage to collect that claim you went about presenting?
GREGERS.
Claim? [_Understands him._] Ah, I see.
HIALMAR.
Have you been presenting claims, Gregers?
GREGERS.
Oh, nonsense.
RELLING.
Faith, but he has, though! He went round to all the cottars' cabins
presenting something he called “the claim of the ideal.”
GREGERS.
I was young then.
RELLING.
You’re right; you were very young. And as for the claim of the ideal—you
never got it honoured while _I_ was up there.
GREGERS.
Nor since either.
RELLING.
Ah, then you’ve learnt to knock a little discount off, I expect.
GREGERS.
Never, when I have a true man to deal with.
HIALMAR.
No, I should think not, indeed. A little butter, Gina.
RELLING.
And a slice of bacon for Molvik.
MOLVIK.
Ugh! not bacon! _A knock at the garret door._
HIALMAR.
Open the door, Hedvig; father wants to come out.
[HEDVIG _goes over and opens the door a little way;_ EKDAL
_enters with a fresh rabbit-skin; she closes the door after
him._
EKDAL.
Good morning, gentlemen! Good sport to-day. Shot a big one.
HIALMAR.
And you’ve gone and skinned it without waiting for _me_——!
EKDAL.
Salted it too. It’s good tender meat, is rabbit; it’s sweet; it tastes
like sugar. Good appetite to you, gentlemen! _Goes into his room._
MOLVIK.
[_Rising._] Excuse me——; I can’t——; I must get downstairs immediately——
RELLING.
Drink some soda water, man!
MOLVIK.
[_Hurrying away._] Ugh—ugh!
[_Goes out by the passage door._
RELLING.
[_To_ HIALMAR.] Let us drain a glass to the old hunter.
HIALMAR.
[_Clinks glasses with him._] To the undaunted sportsman who has looked
death in the face!
RELLING.
To the grey-haired—— [_Drinks._] By-the-bye, is his hair grey or white?
HIALMAR.
Something between the two, I fancy; for that matter, he has very few
hairs left of any colour.
RELLING.
Well well, one can get through the world with a wig. After all, you are
a happy man, Ekdal; you have your noble mission to labour for——
HIALMAR.
And I do labour, I can tell you.
RELLING.
And then you have your excellent wife, shuffling quietly in and out in
her felt slippers, with that see-saw walk of hers, and making everything
cosy and comfortable about you.
HIALMAR.
Yes, Gina—[_Nods to her_]—you are a good helpmate on the path of life.
GINA.
Oh, don’t sit there cricketizing me.
RELLING.
And your Hedvig too, Ekdal!
HIALMAR.
[_Affected._] The child, yes! The child before everything! Hedvig, come
here to me. [_Strokes her hair._] What day is it to-morrow, eh?
HEDVIG.
[_Shaking him._] Oh no, you’re not to say anything, father.
HIALMAR.
It cuts me to the heart when I think what a poor affair it will be; only
a little festivity in the garret——
HEDVIG.
Oh, but that’s just what I like!
RELLING.
Just you wait till the wonderful invention sees the light, Hedvig!
HIALMAR.
Yes indeed—then you shall see——! Hedvig, I have resolved to make your
future secure. You shall live in comfort all your days. I will
demand—something or other—on your behalf. _That_ shall be the poor
inventor’s sole reward.
HEDVIG.
[_Whispering, with her arms round his neck._] Oh you dear, kind father!
RELLING.
[_To GREGERS._] Come now, don’t you find it pleasant, for once in a way,
to sit at a well-spread table in a happy family circle?
HIALMAR.
Ah yes, I really prize these social hours.
GREGERS.
For my part, I don’t thrive in marsh vapours.
RELLING.
Marsh vapours?
HIALMAR.
Oh, don’t begin with that stuff again!
GINA.
Goodness knows there’s no vapours in _this_ house, Mr. Werle; I give the
place a good airing every blessed day.
GREGERS.
[_Leaves the table._] No airing _you_ can give will drive out the taint
I mean.
HIALMAR.
Taint!
GINA.
Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal!
RELLING.
Excuse me—may it not be you yourself that have brought the taint from
those mines up there?
GREGERS.
It is like you to call what I bring into this house a taint.
RELLING.
[_Goes up to him._] Look here, Mr Werle, junior: I have a strong
suspicion that you are still carrying about that “claim of the ideal”
large as life, in your coat-tail pocket.
GREGERS.
I carry it in my breast.
RELLING.
Well, wherever you carry it, I advise you not to come dunning us with it
here, so long as _I_ am on the premises.
GREGERS.
And if I do so none the less?
RELLING.
Then you’ll go head-foremost down the stairs; now I've warned you.
HIALMAR.
[_Rising._] Oh, but Relling——!
GREGERS.
Yes, you may turn me out——
GINA.
[_Interposing between them._] We can’t have that, Relling. But I must
say, Mr. Werle, it ill becomes you to talk about vapours and taints,
after all the mess you made with your stove.
[_A knock at the passage door._
HEDVIG.
Mother, there’s somebody knocking.
HIALMAR.
There now, we’re going to have a whole lot of people!
GINA.
I'll go—— [_Goes over and opens the door, starts, and draws back._]
Oh—oh dear!
WERLE, _in a fur coat, advances one step into the room._
WERLE.
Excuse me; but I think my son is staying here.
GINA.
[_With a gulp._] Yes.
HIALMAR.
[_Approaching him._] Won’t you do us the honour to——?
WERLE.
Thank you, I merely wish to speak to my son.
GREGERS.
What is it? Here I am.
WERLE.
I want a few words with you, in your room.
GREGERS.
In my room? Very well—— _About to go._
GINA.
No, no, your room’s not in a fit state——
WERLE.
Well then, out in the passage here; I want to have a few words with you
alone.
HIALMAR.
You can have them here, sir. Come into the parlour, Relling.
[HIALMAR _and_ RELLING _go off to the right._ GINA _takes_
HEDVIG _with her into the kitchen._
GREGERS.
[_After a short pause._] Well, now we are alone.
WERLE.
From something you let fall last evening, and from your coming to lodge
with the Ekdals, I can’t help inferring that you intend to make yourself
unpleasant to me, in one way or another.
GREGERS.
I intend to open Hialmar Ekdal’s eyes. He shall see his position as it
really is—that is all.
WERLE.
Is _that_ the mission in life you spoke of yesterday?
GREGERS.
Yes. You have left me no other.
WERLE.
Is it I, then, that have crippled your mind, Gregers?
GREGERS.
You have crippled my whole life. I am not thinking of all that about
mother—— But it’s thanks to you that I am continually haunted and
harassed by a guilty conscience.
WERLE.
Indeed! It is your conscience that troubles you, is it?
GREGERS.
I ought to have taken a stand against you when the trap was set for
Lieutenant Ekdal. I ought to have cautioned him; for I had a misgiving
as to what was in the wind.
WERLE.
Yes, that was the time to have spoken.
GREGERS.
I did not dare to, I was so cowed and spiritless. I was mortally afraid
of you—not only then, but long afterwards.
WERLE.
You have got over that fear now, it appears.
GREGERS.
Yes, fortunately. The wrong done to old Ekdal, both by me and by—others,
can never be undone; but Hialmar I can rescue from all the falsehood and
deception that are bringing him to ruin.
WERLE.
Do you think _that_ will be doing him a kindness?
GREGERS.
I have not the least doubt of it.
WERLE.
You think our worthy photographer is the sort of man to appreciate such
friendly offices?
GREGERS.
Yes, I do.
WERLE.
H'm—we shall see.
GREGERS.
Besides, if I am to go on living, I must try to find some cure for my
sick conscience.
WERLE.
It will never be sound. Your conscience has been sickly from childhood.
That is a legacy from your mother, Gregers—the only one she left you.
GREGERS.
[_With a scornful half-smile._] Have you not yet forgiven her for the
mistake you made in supposing she would bring you a fortune?
WERLE.
Don’t let us wander from the point.—Then you hold to your purpose of
setting young Ekdal upon what you imagine to be the right scent?
GREGERS.
Yes, that is my fixed resolve.
WERLE.
Well, in that case I might have spared myself this visit; for of course
it is useless to ask whether you will return home with me?
GREGERS.
Quite useless.
WERLE.
And I suppose you won’t enter the firm either?
GREGERS.
No.
WERLE.
Very good. But as I am thinking of marrying again, your share in the
property will fall to you at once.[18]
GREGERS.
[_Quickly._] No, I do not want that.
WERLE.
You don’t want it?
GREGERS.
No, I dare not take it, for conscience' sake.
WERLE.
[_After a pause._] Are you going up to the works again?
GREGERS.
No; I consider myself released from your service.
WERLE.
But what are you going to do?
GREGERS.
Only to fulfil my mission; nothing more.
WERLE.
Well, but afterwards? What are you going to live upon?
GREGERS.
I have laid by a little out of my salary.
WERLE.
How long will _that_ last?
GREGERS.
I think it will last my time.
WERLE.
What do you mean?
GREGERS.
I shall answer no more questions.
WERLE.
Good-bye then, Gregers.
GREGERS.
Good-bye.
WERLE _goes._
HIALMAR.
[_Peeping in._] He’s gone, isn’t he?
GREGERS.
Yes.
HIALMAR _and_ RELLING _enter; also_ GINA _and_ HEDVIG _from the
kitchen._
RELLING.
That luncheon-party was a failure.
GREGERS.
Put on your coat, Hialmar; I want you to come for a long walk with me.
HIALMAR.
With pleasure. What was it your father wanted? Had it anything to do
with me?
GREGERS.
Come along. We must have a talk. I'll go and put on my overcoat.
[_Goes out by the passage door._
GINA.
You shouldn’t go out with him, Ekdal.
RELLING.
No, don’t you do it. Stay where you are.
HIALMAR.
[_Gets his hat and overcoat._] Oh, nonsense! When a friend of my youth
feels impelled to open his mind to me in private——
RELLING.
But devil take it—don’t you see that the fellow’s mad, cracked,
demented!
GINA.
There, what did I tell you! His mother before him had crazy fits like
that sometimes.
HIALMAR.
The more need for a friend’s watchful eye. [_To GINA._] Be sure you have
dinner ready in good time. Good-bye for the present.
[_Goes out by the passage door._
RELLING.
It’s a thousand pities the fellow didn’t go to hell through one of the
Höidal mines.
GINA.
Good Lord! what makes you say that?
RELLING.
[_Muttering._] Oh, I have my own reasons.
GINA.
Do you think young Werle is really mad?
RELLING.
No, worse luck; he’s no madder than most other people. But one disease
he has certainly got in his system.
GINA.
What is it that’s the matter with him?
RELLING.
Well, I'll tell you, Mrs. Ekdal. He is suffering from an acute attack of
integrity.
GINA.
Integrity?
HEDVIG.
Is that a kind of disease?
RELLING.
Yes, it’s a national disease; but it only appears sporadically. [_Nods
to GINA._] Thanks for your hospitality.
[_He goes out by the passage door._
GINA.
[_Moving restlessly to and fro._] Ugh, that Gregers Werle—he was always
a wretched creature.
HEDVIG.
[_Standing by the table, and looking searchingly at her._] I think all
this is very strange.
-----
Footnote 16:
_A New and Universal History of the Cities of London and Westminster_,
by Walter Harrison. London, 1775, folio.
Footnote 17:
Gregers here uses the old-fashioned expression “havsens bund,” while
Hedvig would have him use the more commonplace “havets bund” or
“havbunden.”
Footnote 18:
By Norwegian law, before a widower can marry again, a certain
proportion of his property must be settled on his children by his
former marriage.
ACT FOURTH.
HIALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. A photograph has just been taken; a camera with
the cloth over it, a pedestal, two chairs, a folding table, etc.,
are standing out in the room. Afternoon light; the sun is going
down; a little later it begins to grow dusk._
GINA _stands in the passage doorway, with a little box and a wet glass
plate in her hand, and is speaking to somebody outside._
GINA.
Yes, certainly. When I make a promise I keep it. The first dozen shall
be ready on Monday. Good afternoon.
[_Some one is heard going downstairs._ GINA _shuts the door,
slips the plate into the box, and puts it into the covered
camera._
HEDVIG.
[_Comes in from the kitchen._] Are they gone?
GINA.
[_Tidying up._] Yes, thank goodness, I've got rid of them at last.
HEDVIG.
But can you imagine why father hasn’t come home yet?
GINA.
Are you sure he’s not down in Relling’s room?
HEDVIG.
No, he’s not; I ran down the kitchen stair just now and asked.
GINA.
And his dinner standing and getting cold, too.
HEDVIG.
Yes, I can’t understand it. Father’s always so careful to be home to
dinner!
GINA.
Oh, he’ll be here directly, you’ll see.
HEDVIG.
I wish he would come; everything seems so queer to-day.
GINA.
[_Calls out._] There he is!
HIALMAR EKDAL _comes in at the passage door._
HEDVIG.
[_Going to him._] Father! Oh what a time we’ve been waiting for you!
GINA.
[_Glancing sidelong at him._] You’ve been out a long time, Ekdal.
HIALMAR.
[_Without looking at her._] Rather long, yes.
[_He takes off his overcoat;_ GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go to help him;
he motions them away._
GINA.
Perhaps you’ve had dinner with Werle?
HIALMAR.
[_Hanging up his coat._] No.
GINA.
[_Going towards the kitchen door._] Then I'll bring some in for you.
HIALMAR.
No; let the dinner alone. I want nothing to eat.
HEDVIG.
[_Going nearer to him._] Are you not well, father?
HIALMAR.
Well? Oh yes, well enough. We have had a tiring walk, Gregers and I.
GINA.
You didn’t ought to have gone so far, Ekdal; you’re not used to it.
HIALMAR.
H'm; there’s many a thing a man must get used to in this world.
[_Wanders about the room._] Has any one been here whilst I was out?
GINA.
Nobody but the two sweethearts.
HIALMAR.
No new orders?
GINA.
No, not to-day.
HEDVIG.
There will be some to-morrow, father, you’ll see.
HIALMAR.
I hope there will; for to-morrow I am going to set to work in real
earnest.
HEDVIG.
To-morrow! Don’t you remember what day it is to-morrow?
HIALMAR.
Oh yes, by-the-bye——. Well, the day after, then. Henceforth I mean to do
everything myself; I shall take all the work into my own hands.
GINA.
Why, what can be the good of that, Ekdal? It’ll only make your life a
burden to you. I can manage the photography all right; and you can go on
working at your invention.
HEDVIG.
And think of the wild duck, father,—and all the hens and rabbits and——!
HIALMAR.
Don’t talk to me of all that trash! From to-morrow I will never set foot
in the garret again.
HEDVIG.
Oh but, father, you promised that we should have a little party——
HIALMAR.
H'm, true. Well then, from the day after tomorrow. I should almost like
to wring that cursëd wild duck’s neck!
HEDVIG.
[_Shrieks._] The wild duck!
GINA.
Well I never!
HEDVIG.
[_Shaking him._] Oh no, father; you know it’s _my_ wild duck!
HIALMAR.
That is why I don’t do it. I haven’t the heart to—for your sake, Hedvig.
But in my inmost soul I feel that I ought to do it. I ought not to
tolerate under my roof a creature that has been through _those_ hands.
GINA.
Why, good gracious, even if grandfather did get it from that poor
creature, Pettersen——
HIALMAR.
[_Wandering about._] There are certain claims—what shall I call
them?—let me say claims of the ideal—certain obligations, which a man
cannot disregard without injury to his soul.
HEDVIG.
[_Going after him._] But think of the wild duck,—the poor wild duck!
HIALMAR.
[_Stops._] I tell you I will spare it—for your sake. Not a hair of its
head shall be—I mean, it shall be spared. There are greater problems
than that to be dealt with. But you should go out a little now, Hedvig,
as usual; it is getting dusk enough for you now.
HEDVIG.
No? I don’t care about going out now.
HIALMAR.
Yes do; it seems to me your eyes are blinking a great deal; all these
vapours in here are bad for you. The air is heavy under this roof.
HEDVIG.
Very well then, I'll run down the kitchen stair and go for a little
walk. My cloak and hat?—oh, they’re in my own room. Father—be sure you
don’t do the wild duck any harm whilst I'm out.
HIALMAR.
Not a feather of its head shall be touched. [_Draws her to him._] You
and I, Hedvig—we two——! Well, go along.
[HEDVIG _nods to her parents and goes out through the kitchen._
HIALMAR.
[_Walks about without looking up._] Gina.
GINA.
Yes?
HIALMAR.
From to-morrow—or, say, from the day after to-morrow—I should like to
keep the household account-book myself.
GINA.
Do you want to keep the accounts too, now?
HIALMAR.
Yes; or to check the receipts at any rate.
GINA.
Lord help us! _that’s_ soon done.
HIALMAR.