[HJALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. It is morning; daylight streams in through
the great panes of glass in the slanting roof; the curtain is
drawn back._]
[HJALMAR _is sitting at the table busy retouching a photograph;
several other portraits are lying in front of him. After a little
while_ GINA _comes in from the entrance-door in her hat and
cloak; she has a covered basket on her arm_.]
HJALMAR. Are you back again, Gina?
GINA. Ah, yes! One must look sharp.
_Puts the basket on a chair, and takes off her things._
HJALMAR. Did you look in at Gregers’?
GINA. Yes, I did. It’s in a lovely state; he’s managed to make a mess
of it as soon as ever he got in.
HJALMAR. How so?
GINA. Why he wanted to do everything himself, he said. And so he wanted
to light the stove too; and then he screwed down the register, so that
the whole room was full of smoke. Uh! It stank like----
HJALMAR. Well, I never!
GINA. But the best’s to come; for then he wanted to put out the fire,
and so he must needs empty the whole of his water-jug into the stove,
so that the room’s like a pig-stye.
HJALMAR. That’s a nuisance.
GINA. I’ve sent the porter’s wife there now, to clean up after him, the
pig. But the place’ll not be fit to be in till this afternoon.
HJALMAR. Where’s he gone then in the meantime?
GINA. He was going out, he said.
HJALMAR. I looked in a moment, too--after you’d gone out.
GINA. So I heard. Why, _you’ve_ asked him to lunch.
HJALMAR. Only to a little simple bit of early lunch, you know. It’s his
first day--and we couldn’t very well avoid it. You’ve got something in
the house, I suppose.
GINA. I’ll try and get something or other.
HJALMAR. But don’t get too little. For I fancy Relling and Molvik are
coming up too. I happened to meet Relling on the stairs, you see, and
so I couldn’t but----
GINA. Oh! Are we to have those two as well?
HJALMAR. Good Lord--two more or less’ll make no difference.
EKDAL (_opening his door and looking in_). I say, Hjalmar----
(_noticing_ GINA.) Oh! I see!
GINA. Do you want anything, grandfather?
EKDAL. Oh, no! It’s all right. H’m! (_He goes in again._)
GINA (_taking up the basket_). Take care he doesn’t get out.
HJALMAR. Yes, yes, I’ll see to it--I say, Gina, a little bit of
herring-salad’d be very nice--for Relling and Molvik were out on the
spree again last night.
GINA. If only they don’t come up too soon for me I----
HJALMAR. Oh! they won’t; take your own time.
GINA. Very good, and you can go on doing a little work meantime.
HJALMAR. Why, I’m sitting here working! Why, I’m working as hard as
ever I can!
GINA. Then you’ll have it off your hands, don’t you see.
_She goes into the kitchen with the basket._ HJALMAR _sits a few
minutes retouching the photograph; he does it lazily and with
disrelish_.
EKDAL (_peeps in looking around the studio, and says in a whisper_).
Are you busy?
HJALMAR. Yes, I’m sitting here slaving over these portraits.
EKDAL. All right--God forbid--if you’re so busy, I’ll--h’m----
_He goes in again; he leaves the door open._
HJALMAR (_goes on for a while in silence; then he puts down the brush
and goes to the door_). Are you busy, father?
EKDAL (_mutters from within_). If you’re busy, I’m busy too. H’m!
HJALMAR. All right.
_He returns to his work again._
EKDAL (_after a little while, coming to the door again_). H’m! You see,
Hjalmar, I’m not so very busy after all.
HJALMAR. I thought you were sitting there writing.
EKDAL. Deuce take it. Can’t Graberg wait a day or two? It’s not a
matter of life and death, I should say.
HJALMAR. No, and you’re not a slave either.
EKDAL. And then what has to be done in there?
HJALMAR. Yes, exactly. Perhaps you’d like to go in? Shall I open the
door for you?
EKDAL. That wouldn’t be amiss.
HJALMAR (_rising_). For then we’d have _that_ off our hands.
EKDAL. Exactly, it must be ready by to-morrow early. For it _is_
to-morrow---- H’m?
HJALMAR. Of course, it’s to-morrow.
HJALMAR _and_ EKDAL _push one-half of the door aside. The morning sun
is shining in through the sky-lights; many pigeons are flying
hither and thither, others are perched cooing on rafters; the
hens cackle now and again, at the further end of the loft._
HJALMAR. Now then, get in, father.
EKDAL (_going in_). Aren’t you coming?
HJALMAR. Yes, d’you know--I almost think--(_seeing_ GINA _by the
kitchen door_). I?--no, no, I’ve no time, I must work---- This is how
the mechanism works----
_He pulls a string; a curtain falls from within, the lower part of
which consists of an old sail, and the rest, the upper part of an
out-spread fishing net. The floor of the loft is thus no longer
visible._
HJALMAR (_going to the table_). That’s it; now, I suppose, I shall have
a minute’s peace.
GINA. Is he in there on the rampage again?
HJALMAR. Wasn’t it better than if he’d gone down to Mrs. Ericksen’s?
(_Sitting down._) Do you want anything? You said----
GINA. I only wanted to ask if you thought we could lay the cloth here?
HJALMAR. Yes, I suppose no one is coming so early----
GINA. No, I don’t expect anyone, except the two sweethearts, who want
to be taken together.
HJALMAR. Why the devil couldn’t they be taken together some other day?
GINA. But, dear Ekdal, I arranged for them to come this afternoon, when
you’re having your sleep.
HJALMAR. Oh, that’s all right. Yes, then we’ll lunch here.
GINA. Very well! But there’s no need to hurry to lay the cloth yet; you
can use the table awhile yet.
HJALMAR. I should think you could see I am sitting here using the table
all I can!
GINA. Then you’ll be free later, don’t you see.
_She goes into the kitchen again. A short pause._
EKDAL (_at the door of loft, the net behind_). Hjalmar!
HJALMAR. Well?
EKDAL. Afraid we shall have to move the water-trough, after all.
HJALMAR. Why, that’s what I’ve said all along.
EKDAL. H’m--h’m--h’m!
_Goes away from the door again._
HJALMAR (_goes on working for a little while, then looks at the loft
and half rises_. HEDVIG _comes in from the kitchen. Hurriedly sitting
down again_). What do you want?
HEDVIG. I only wanted to come in to you, father.
HJALMAR (_after a short pause_). It seems to me you’ve come to poke
your nose into things. Are you to keep watch, perhaps?
HEDVIG. Oh, no! not at all!
HJALMAR. What’s mother doing in there now?
HEDVIG. Oh! Mother’s in the thick of the herring-salad. (_She goes up
to the table._) Isn’t there any little thing I could help you with,
father?
HJALMAR. Oh, no. It’s best I should do it all alone--as long as my
strength holds out. There’s no need, Hedvig; if only your father keeps
his health--then----
HEDVIG. Oh no, father; you mustn’t say such horrid things----
_She walks about a little while, stands still by the open door, and
looks into the loft._
HJALMAR. I say, what’s he doing now?
HEDVIG. It’s surely a new path up to the water-trough.
HJALMAR. He’ll never be able to manage that alone! And yet I’m
condemned to sit here----
HEDVIG (_going up to him_). Give me the brush, father; I can do it.
HJALMAR. Oh, nonsense. You’d only spoil your eyes with it.
HEDVIG. Not a bit! Come, give me the brush!
HJALMAR (_rising_). Well, yes, it won’t take more than a minute or two.
HEDVIG. Tut! What does it matter? (_Taking the brush._) That’s it.
(_Sitting down._) And I’ve got one here to copy from.
HJALMAR. But don’t spoil your eyes! Do you hear--_I_ will not be
answerable; you must take the responsibility upon yourself--I tell you
that.
HEDVIG (_retouching_). All right, I don’t mind.
HJALMAR. You’re very quick at it, Hedvig. Only a few minutes, you
understand.
_He squeezes past the curtain in the loft._ HEDVIG _sits working_.
HJALMAR _and_ EKDAL _are heard discussing within_.
HJALMAR (_coming from behind the net_). Hedvig, just hand me the
pincers that are lying on the shelf. And the chisel (_turning back_).
Now you’ll see father. But first let me show you what I mean.
HEDVIG _takes out the tools asked for from the book-case and hands
them in to him_.
HJALMAR. That’s it. Thanks! I say, it was a good thing I came.
_He goes away from the opening of the door; they are heard
carpentering and talking within._ HEDVIG _remains standing
and looks at them. After a pause there is a knock at the
entrance-door; she takes no notice of it._
GREGERS (_bareheaded and without a top coat; he enters and stands a
little while by the door_). H’m!
HEDVIG (_turning and going up to him_). Good morning. Won’t you come in?
GREGERS. Thank you (_looks towards the loft_). You seem to have
workingmen in the house?
HEDVIG. No, it’s only father and grandfather. I’ll go and tell them.
GREGERS. No, no, don’t do that, I’d rather wait a little while.
_He sits down on the sofa._
HEDVIG. It’s so untidy here.
_She is about to clear away the photographs._
GREGERS. Oh! don’t trouble. Are they portraits that have to be finished?
HEDVIG. Yes, they are; I was going to help father with them.
GREGERS. Don’t let me prevent you.
HEDVIG. Oh, no.
_She moves the things towards her and sits down to work_; GREGERS
_watches her for a while in silence_.
GREGERS. Did the wild duck sleep well last night?
HEDVIG. Yes, thank you, I believe so.
GREGERS (_turning to the loft_). It looks quite different in there by
daylight from what it did in the moonshine.
HEDVIG. Yes, it does change so. In the morning it looks different from
the afternoon and when it rains it looks different than when it’s fine.
GREGERS. Have you noticed it?
HEDVIG. Yes, of course I have.
GREGERS. Do you, too, like being in there with the wild duck?
HEDVIG. Yes, whenever I can manage it I----
GREGERS. But no doubt you’ve not much free time. I suppose you go to
school.
HEDVIG. No, not now; father’s afraid of me spoiling my eyes.
GREGERS. Oh! then he reads with you himself.
HEDVIG. Father’s promised to read with me, but he’s not had time for it
yet.
GREGERS. But is there no one else to help you a little?
HEDVIG. Yes, there’s Mr. Molvik; but he not always
quite--exactly--as----
GREGERS. He drinks then?
HEDVIG. Yes, indeed.
GREGERS. Well, then you’ve plenty of time to do anything. And in
there--I suppose that’s a world of itself.
HEDVIG. Quite of itself. And then there are so many wonderful things
there.
GREGERS. Really?
HEDVIG. Yes, there are great cupboards full of books, and in some of
the books there are pictures.
GREGERS. Aha!
HEDVIG. And then there’s an old bureau, with drawers and flaps, and a
big clock with figures that can come out. But the clock doesn’t go now.
GREGERS. So time has stood still--in there with the wild duck.
HEDVIG. Yes. And then there’s an old paint-box and so forth; and then
all the books.
GREGERS. And I suppose you like reading the books?
HEDVIG. Oh, yes, when I can get time. But most of them are English, and
I don’t understand it. But then I look at the pictures. There’s one
great book, called “Harryson’s History of London;” it must be a hundred
years old; and there are such an enormous lot of pictures in it. On the
front page there’s a picture of Death with an hour-glass, and a young
girl. I think that’s horrid. But then there are all the other pictures
of churches and palaces, and streets, and great ships sailing on the
sea.
GREGERS. But tell me, where did you get all these rare things from?
HEDVIG. Oh! An old sea-captain once lived here, and he brought them
home. They used to call him “The Flying Dutchman.” And that’s odd, for
he wasn’t a Dutchman at all.
GREGERS. No?
HEDVIG. No. But at last he stopped away altogether, and all his things
were left here.
GREGERS. Listen--just tell me--when you sit in there looking at the
pictures, don’t you want to get out, and see the real great world
itself?
HEDVIG. Oh, no! I want to stop at home always, and help father and
mother.
GREGERS. Finishing photographs?
HEDVIG. No, not only that. What I should like best would be 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, for father’s so odd in
some things. Fancy, he talks about my learning basket-making and
straw-plaiting! But I don’t think _that’s_ anything much.
GREGERS. Oh, no; neither do I.
HEDVIG. But father’s right about _one_ thing, that if I’d learnt to
make baskets, I might have made the new basket for the wild duck myself.
GREGERS. So you might; and you were the right person to have made it.
HEDVIG. Yes, for it’s _my_ wild duck.
GREGERS. Yes, so it is.
HEDVIG. Oh, yes, she belongs to _me_. But I lend her to father and
grandfather as often as ever they like.
GREGERS. Indeed! What do they do with her?
HEDVIG. Oh! they arrange things for her, and build for her, and all
that.
GREGERS. I understand; for I suppose the wild duck’s the most
distinguished personage in there.
HEDVIG. Of course she is; for she’s a real wild bird. And it’s a pity
about her, too, for she has no one to care for, poor thing.
GREGERS. She hasn’t a family like the rabbits.
HEDVIG. No. The fowls, too, have so many they were chicks with
together, but she has been taken right away from all her own. And then
it’s all so strange about those wild ducks. No one knows them, and
nobody knows where they come from either.
GREGERS. And so she has been to the ocean depths.
HEDVIG (_looks up at him for a moment and smiles_). Why do you say “the
ocean depths?”
GREGERS. What else should I say?
HEDVIG. You might have said the “bottom of the sea,” or the “sea
bottom.”
GREGERS. Oh! mayn’t I just as well say in the ocean depths?
HEDVIG. Of course, only it sounds so odd to hear people talk of the
depths of the ocean.
GREGERS. Why? Tell me why.
HEDVIG. No, I won’t, for it’s so silly----
GREGERS. I’m sure it’s not. Now, tell me why you smiled?
HEDVIG. Well, it’s because when I happen to remember what’s in
there--all of a sudden--it always seems to me that the whole room and
everything in it should be called the “depths of the ocean”--but that’s
so silly.
GREGERS. You must not say that.
HEDVIG. Yes, for it’s only a loft.
GREGERS (_looking steadily at her_). Are you so sure of that?
HEDVIG (_astonished_). That it’s a loft!
GREGERS. Yes. Are you quite certain it is?
HEDVIG _looks at him in silence, open-mouthed_. GINA _comes in with
the table-cloth, etc., from the kitchen_.
GREGERS (_rising_). I’ve come in too early, I fear?
GINA. Well, you had to stop somewhere--and it’s almost ready now. Clear
the table, Hedvig.
HEDVIG _clears away the things; she and_ GINA _go on laying the table
during the following conversation_. GREGERS _sits down in the
arm-chair and turns over the leaves of an album_.
GREGERS. I hear you can retouch, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA (_with a side glance_). Yes, I can.
GREGERS. That was a lucky coincidence.
GINA. How, lucky?
GREGERS. As Ekdal went in for photography, I mean.
HEDVIG. Mother can take photographs, too.
GINA. Oh, yes! I’ve had plenty of opportunity to teach myself _that_
art.
GREGERS. Then, perhaps, it’s you really that attend to the business?
GINA. Yes, when Ekdal hasn’t time himself, I----
GREGERS. No doubt, his time’s a great deal taken up with his old
father. I understand that.
GINA. Yes, and then it’s not the thing for a man like Ekdal to take
portraits of anybody and everybody.
GREGERS. So I think, but still, since he has taken it up--I----
GINA. Mr. Werle, I’m sure, can understand that Ekdal is not an ordinary
photographer.
GREGERS. Of course not---- But---- (_A shot is fired within the loft, he
starts._) What’s that?
GINA. Up there they are shooting again!
GREGERS. Do they shoot too?
HEDVIG. They go a-hunting.
GREGERS. What hunt? (_Going towards the door of the loft._) Are you
hunting, Hjalmar?
HJALMAR (_behind the net_). Are you here? I didn’t know--I was so taken
up---- (_To_ HEDVIG.) And you didn’t tell us----
_Comes into the studio._
GREGERS. Do you go a hunting in the loft?
HJALMAR (_showing a double-barreled pistol_). Oh! only with this.
GINA. Yes, you and grandfather’ll have an accident one of these days
with that pigstol.
HJALMAR (_vexed_). I think I’ve told you, that this kind of fire-arm is
called a pistol.
GINA. Well, I don’t think that’s any better.
GREGERS. So you too have turned hunter; you too, Hjalmar?
HJALMAR. Only a little rabbit shooting now and again. Chiefly for
father’s sake, you understand.
GINA. Men folk are such queer creatures; they must always have
something to divide themselves with.
HJALMAR (_angrily_). Yes, yes, of course, we must always have something
to divide ourselves with.
GINA. Why that’s exactly what _I_’m saying.
HJALMAR. Well, h’m! (_To_ GREGERS.) And then luckily you see the loft
is so situated that no one can hear us shooting. (_Putting the pistol
on the top shelf of the case._) Don’t touch the pistol, Hedvig! The one
barrel’s loaded, remember.
GREGERS (_looking in through the net_). Oh, you’ve a fowling-piece too,
I see.
HJALMAR. That’s father’s old gun. You can’t shoot with it now, for
there’s something wrong with the lock. But it’s very amusing to have
it, all the same, because we can take it all to pieces, and oil it, and
then screw it together again. Of course its mostly father who muddles
about with such things.
HEDVIG (_going up to_ GREGERS). Now you can see the wild duck properly.
GREGERS. I was just looking at it. One of her wings drops a little it
seems to me.
HJALMAR. Well, that’s not so remarkable; you know she was wounded.
GREGERS. And she seems a little lame in one foot, isn’t she?
HJALMAR. Perhaps just a very little bit.
HEDVIG. Yes, for the dog bit her in that foot.
HJALMAR. But she hasn’t another fault or blemish; and that is really
remarkable for a creature that has had a discharge of shot into its
body, and has been between a dog’s teeth.
GREGERS (_with a glance at_ HEDVIG). And who has been to the depths of
the ocean?
HEDVIG (_smiling_). Yes.
GINA (_setting the table_). Oh! that blessed wild duck! You’ll be
falling down and worshipping her next.
HJALMAR. H’m--is the lunch nearly ready?
GINA. Yes, in a moment. Hedvig, you must come and help me now.
GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go out into the kitchen_.
HJALMAR (_in a lower voice_). I don’t think you’d better stand there
looking at father; he doesn’t like it. (GREGERS _moves away from the
door of the loft_.) And I’d better shut up before the others come in.
(_Shooing with his hands._) S’h! s’h! Get away with you! (_He pulls
up the curtain and shuts the doors._) These contrivances are my own
inventions. It’s really very amusing to have something like that to
arrange, and to mend when it gets broken. And besides, it is quite
necessary, too, you see, for Gina doesn’t like having the rabbits and
fowls in the studio.
GREGERS. No, of course not; and, perhaps, it’s your wife who manages
the business?
HJALMAR. I usually leave every-day business to her, for then I can seek
refuge in the sitting-room, and think over more important matters.
GREGERS. What sort of matters, Hjalmar?
HJALMAR. I wonder you’ve not asked about _that_ before? Or, perhaps,
you’ve not heard about the invention?
GREGERS. Invention? No.
HJALMAR. Really? You’ve not? Ah! well, up there in the woods and
wilds----
GREGERS. So you’ve made an invention!
HJALMAR. Well, I’ve not exactly made it yet, but I’m working at it.
Surely you can understand that when I decided to sacrifice myself to
photography, it wasn’t in order to take likenesses of all sorts of
commonplace people.
GREGERS. No, no, that was what your wife was just saying.
HJALMAR. I vowed that if I did devote my powers to this manual labor
I would at least raise it so high that it should be both an art and a
science. And so I made up my mind to make this remarkable invention.
GREGERS. And in what does the invention consist? What is it to do?
HJALMAR. Why, my dear fellow, you mustn’t ask for such details yet.
It takes time, you see. And you mustn’t believe that I am inspired
by vanity. Truly, I’m not working for my own sake. Oh, no! It is my
life--a mission that I see before me night and day.
GREGERS. What life-mission is that?
HJALMAR. Have you forgotten the old man with the silver hair?
GREGERS. Your poor father; but what can you really do for him?
HJALMAR. I can invoke his self-respect from the dead, by raising up the
name of Ekdal to honor and respect again.
GREGERS. So that is your life-mission.
HJALMAR. Yes. I will save the shipwrecked man. For he did suffer
shipwreck when the storm burst forth over him. Even while those
terrible investigations were going on he was no longer himself. That
pistol there--that we used to shoot rabbits with--it has played a part
in the tragedy of the house of Ekdal.
GREGERS. The pistol! Indeed?
HJALMAR. When the sentence was pronounced and he was to be put in
gaol--he had that pistol in his hand----
GREGERS. He had!
HJALMAR. Yes, but he did not dare. He was afraid. So demoralized,
so lost even then was his spirit. Ah! Can you understand that?
He a soldier; he who had shot nine bears, the descendant of two
lieutenant-colonels--one after the other, of course. Can you understand
it, Gregers?----
GREGERS. Yes, I understand it very well.
HJALMAR. I do not. And then the pistol played a part too in another
incident in the history of our house. When he had donned the gray
dress, and was set under lock and key--ah! believe me that was a
terrible time for me. I had pulled down the blinds of both my windows.
When I looked out, I saw that the sun was shining as was its wont. I
could not understand. I saw men walking about the streets, laughing
and gossipping of indifferent matters. I could not understand. I
thought all the universe must be standing still as at an eclipse of the
sun.
GREGERS. I felt so when my mother died.
HJALMAR. In that same hour Hjalmar Ekdal turned the pistol towards his
own breast.
GREGERS. So you, too, thought of that!
HJALMAR. Yes.
GREGERS. But you did not fire?
HJALMAR. No. In that decisive moment I gained the victory over myself.
I went on living. But, believe me, it needed courage to choose _life_
under such conditions.
GREGERS. It depends on the point of view.
HJALMAR. Yes, entirely. But it was better so; for now I shall soon make
the invention; and then Doctor Relling believes, as I do, myself, that
father will get leave to wear his uniform again. I shall ask this as my
sole reward.
GREGERS. So it’s the uniform that he----?
HJALMAR. Yes; it is _that_ that he most hankers and pines after. You
can not imagine how this cuts me to the heart for his sake. Whenever
we have a little family feast here--such as Gina’s and my wedding-day,
or anything of that sort--the old man comes in here dressed in his
lieutenant uniform of happier days. But as soon as there’s a knock at
the door--for he mustn’t show himself before strangers you know--he
hurries off to his room again as fast as his old legs will carry him.
It lacerates a filial heart to see that!
GREGERS. And when do you think your invention’ll be ready?
HJALMAR. Now, really you mustn’t ask me about such details as to time.
An invention is a thing which doesn’t allow a man to be wholly and
solely master of himself. It depends a good deal on inspiration--on an
idea--and it’s well-nigh impossible to calculate beforehand when that
will come.
GREGERS. But it’s making progress?
HJALMAR. Of course it’s making progress. I work every blessed day at
the invention, which fills my whole being. Every afternoon when I’ve
dined, I lock myself up in my sitting-room, there I can ponder in
peace. Only I mustn’t be driven, for that is no earthly use whatever;
Relling says so, too.
GREGERS. And don’t you find that all those contrivances in there in the
loft, take you away and distract you too much?
HJALMAR. No, no, no; quite the contrary. You mustn’t say that. Surely,
I can’t always go about brooding over the same exhausting ideas. I must
have something to fill up the time spent in expectancy. Inspiration,
ideas, you see--if they’re coming they’ll come anyhow.
GREGERS. My dear Hjalmar, I almost think there’s something of the wild
duck in you.
HJALMAR. Of the wild duck? What do you mean?
GREGERS. You have dived under and got caught fast in the weeds at the
bottom.
HJALMAR. Are you alluding to the well-nigh deadly shot that winged
father and me too?
GREGERS. Not so much to _that_. I don’t mean to say that you are
wounded, but you have fallen into a poisonous swamp; you have within
you an insidious disease, and you have sunk to the bottom to die in
the dark.
HJALMAR. I? Die in the dark? Now, I tell you what, Gregers, you really
should drop such talk.
GREGERS. Do not fear; for I will bring you up to the surface again. For
I, too, have a mission in life now, you see; I found it, yesterday.
HJALMAR. Well, that may be; but you should leave me alone. I assure you
that--of course, with the exception of a very natural melancholy--I am
as happy as a man could desire to be.
GREGERS. That you _are_ so, is also a result of the poison.
HJALMAR. Now, my dear, good Gregers, don’t say anything more about
disease and poison; I’m not used to that sort of thing; in my house no
one ever mentions such disagreeable things to me.
GREGERS. Ah! I can well believe _that_!
HJALMAR. For it’s not good for me. And here there is no air of the
swamp as you call it. The poor home of the photographer is lowly--I
know that well--and my means are narrow. But, I am an inventor,
remember, and I am the bread-winner of a family too. _That_ raises me
above my lowly circumstances---- Ah! here they are with the luncheon!
GINA _and_ HEDVIG _bring bottles of beer, a decanter of brandy,
glasses and so forth. At the same time_ RELLING _and_ MOLVIK
_enter from the passage; they are both without hats and top
coats_; MOLVIK _is dressed in black_.
GINA (_putting the things on the table_). Well, those two timed it
well.
RELLING. Molvik fancied he smelt herring-salad, and so there was no
holding him back. Good morning for the second time, Ekdal.
HJALMAR. Gregers, let me introduce Mr. Molvik; doctor---- Why you know
Relling.
GREGERS. Yes, slightly.
RELLING. Ah! This is Mr. Werle, junior. Yes, we two have often come to
loggerheads with one another up at the Hojdal Works. I suppose you’ve
just moved in?
GREGERS. I moved in this morning.
RELLING. And Molvik and I live underneath you, so you’re not far from
the doctor and priest, if you should want anything of the sort.
GREGERS. That might be; for yesterday we were thirteen at table.
HJALMAR. Oh! now don’t bring up such disagreeable things again!
RELLING. You needn’t trouble, Ekdal, for it won’t hurt you.
HJALMAR. I hope so for the sake of my family. But let’s sit down and
eat, and drink, and be merry.
GREGERS. Shall we not wait for your father?
HJALMAR. No, he’ll have his taken into him presently. Come along!
_The men sit down at the table, and eat and drink._ GINA _and_ HEDVIG
_go in and out waiting on them_.
RELLING. Molvik was horribly drunk yesterday, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA. What! Yesterday again?
RELLING. Didn’t you hear him when I came home with him in the night?
GINA. No, I can’t say I did.
RELLING. That’s well; for Molvik was abominable last night.
GINA. Is that true, Molvik?
MOLVIK. Let us bury in oblivion the proceedings of last night. That
sort of thing has nothing to do with my better self.
RELLING (_to_ GREGERS). It comes over him as if he were possessed, and
then I have to go out on the spree with him. For you see Mr. Molvik is
dæmonic.
GREGERS. Dæmonic?
RELLING. Yes, Molvik is dæmonic.
GREGERS. H’m.
RELLING. And dæmonic natures are not created for going through the
world on steady legs. They are bound to deviate sometimes. Well, and so
you still hold out at those hideous black Works up there?
GREGERS. I have held out until now.
RELLING. And have you obtained what you went about claiming?
GREGERS. Claiming? (_Understanding him._) Oh! I see.
HJALMAR. Have you been enforcing claims, Gregers?
GREGERS. Oh! nonsense.
RELLING. Oh! but he did, though; he used to go about to all the
farmers’ cottages presenting something that he called “the claim of the
ideal.”
GREGERS. I was young then.
RELLING. You’re right _there_; you were very young. And the claim of
the ideal--you never managed to get them honored as long as _I_ was up
there.
GREGERS. Nor since either.
RELLING. And so, I dare say you’ve become sensible enough to reduce
your demands a little.
GREGERS. Never when I am face to face with a true, genuine man.
HJALMAR. No; and that seems sensible enough to me. A little butter,
Gina.
RELLING. And a little bit of pork for Molvik.
MOLVIK. Uh! No pork!
_There is a knock at the door of the loft._
HJALMAR. Open the door, Hedvig; father wants to come out.
HEDVIG _opens the door a little way_, OLD EKDAL _comes in with a
fresh rabbit-skin; he closes the door after him_.
EKDAL. Good-morning, gentlemen! Have had capital sport to-day. Have
shot a big one.
HJALMAR. And you’ve skinned it before I came!
EKDAL. Have salted it, too. It’s good tender meat, is rabbit meat; and
it’s sweet, too; tastes like sugar. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves,
gentlemen!
_He goes into his room._
MOLVIK (_rising_). Excuse me--I can’t--I must go down at once.
RELLING. Have some soda-water, man!
MOLVIK (_hurrying off_). Uh! uh!
_He goes out at the entrance door._
RELLING (_to_ HJALMAR). Let us drink to the old hunter.
HJALMAR (_touching his glass_). Yes, to the bold sportsman on the brink
of the grave!
RELLING. To the gray-headed---- (_Drinking._) I say, is his hair gray
or is it white!
HJALMAR. It’s between the two; besides he hasn’t so many hairs left on
his head.
RELLING. Well; you can get through life with false hair. Yes, at the
bottom you’re a happy man, Ekdal; you have that great life-mission to
toil for----
HJALMAR. And I do toil, believe me.
RELLING. And then you have your active wife, trotting in and out so
nicely, in her felt shoes, and pottering about, looking after you and
serving you.
HJALMAR. Yes, Gina (_nodding to her_), you are an excellent helpmate to
have on life’s path.
GINA. Oh! don’t sit there a-criticising me.
RELLING. And then your Hedvig, Ekdal.
HJALMAR (_with emotion_). Yes, the child! The child beyond all else.
Hedvig, come here to me. (_He strokes her hair._) What day is it
to-morrow, eh?
HEDVIG (_shaking him_). Oh, no, you mustn’t tell, father.
HJALMAR. It goes to my heart like a knife when I think how small a
thing it will be; only a little festive arrangement in the loft----
HEDVIG. Ah! but that’s so lovely!
RELLING. Only wait till that wonderful invention is completed, Hedvig!
HJALMAR. Yes, then--then you will see!--Hedvig, I have determined to
make your future secure. All shall be well with you as long as you
live. I will ask something for you--and nothing else. _That_ shall be
the poor inventor’s sole reward.
HEDVIG (_whispering, with her arms about his neck_). Oh! you dear, dear
father!
RELLING (_to_ GREGERS). Well, now, don’t you think it very pleasant,
just for a change, to sit at a well-spread table in the midst of a
happy family circle?
HJALMAR. Yes, I deeply prize these hours spent at table.
GREGERS. I, for my part, do not thrive in the air of a swamp.
RELLING. Air of a swamp?
HJALMAR. Oh! now don’t begin with that stuff again!
GINA. Goodness knows there’s no foul air here, Mr. Werle, for I air the
place every day.
GREGERS (_rising from the table_). The stench I mean, no amount of your
airing would get rid of.
HJALMAR. Stench!
GINA. Yes, what do you think of that, Ekdal?
RELLING. Excuse me--I suppose it isn’t you yourself who brings this
stench with you from the mines up there?
GREGERS. It would be like you to call what I bring into this house a
stench.
RELLING (_going up to him_). Listen, Mr. Werle, junior, I strongly
suspect you are still going about with “the claim of the ideal”
unabridged in your coat-tail pocket.
GREGERS. I carry it in my breast.
RELLING. Well, wherever you may have it, I’d not advise you to play the
dun here as long as I’m about.
GREGERS. And suppose I do all the same?
RELLING. Then you fly head-foremost down stairs. Now you know.
HJALMAR (_rising_). But really, Relling!
GREGERS. Yes, just you turn me out----
GINA (_coming between them_). You mustn’t do that, Relling. But _this_
I will say, Mr. Werle, that after making all that horrid mess in there
with the stove, you shouldn’t come here chattering about stenches.
_There is a knock at the door._
HEDVIG. Mother, someone’s knocking.
HJALMAR. That’s it! Now we’re to be bothered with a lot of people!
GINA. Only leave it to me---- (_She goes and opens the door; starts,
shudders, and draws back._) Oh! oh, dear!
MR. WERLE _in a fur coat comes a step forward_.
WERLE. I beg your pardon; but I am told my son is living here.
GINA (_in a choking voice_). Yes----
HJALMAR (_coming nearer_). Won’t you come in, sir?
WERLE. Thanks; I only wish to speak to my son.
GREGERS. Well! Here I am!
WERLE. I should like to speak to you in your room.
GREGERS. In my room--well----
_About to go out._
GINA. No, goodness knows, that’s not in a fit state to----
WERLE. Well, outside in the passage, then; I wish to speak to you
alone.
HJALMAR. You can do that here, sir. Come into the sitting-room, Relling.
HJALMAR _and_ RELLING _go in, right_; GINA _takes_ HEDVIG _with her
into the kitchen_.
GREGERS (_after a short pause_). Well, we’re alone now.
WERLE. You let fall a word or two yesterday, and as you’ve come to live
at the Ekdals I am compelled to think that you’ve something in your
mind against me.
GREGERS. I have in mind to open Hjalmar Ekdal’s eyes. He shall see his
position as it is; that is all.
WERLE. Is that the mission in life you spoke of yesterday?
GREGERS. Yes. You have left none other open to me.
WERLE. Is it I who have poisoned your mind, Gregers?
GREGERS. You have poisoned my whole life--I’m not thinking about all
that with mother. But it is you I have to thank for it that I go about
hunted and devoured by a guilty conscience.
WERLE. Aha! So it’s your conscience that’s amiss.
GREGERS. I ought to have stood out against you then, at the time when
you laid the snares for Lieutenant Ekdal. I ought to have warned him;
for I foresaw whither it would lead him.
WERLE. Yes; then, indeed, you ought to have spoken.
GREGERS. I didn’t dare to; I was so cowed and scared. I was so afraid
of you--both then and for a long time afterwards.
WERLE. You’ve got over that fear now it seems.
GREGERS. Fortunately. The wrong done old Ekdal, both by me and others
can never be made good; but I can free Hjalmar from all this lying and
deceit which surround him and are ruining him.
WERLE. Do you believe that that would be doing a good deed?
GREGERS. I believe so--firmly.
WERLE. Perhaps you fancy that the photographer Ekdal, is the man to
thank you for such a friendly service?
GREGERS. Yes--he _is_ the man to do so.
WERLE. H’m--we shall see.
GREGERS. And besides if I am to go on living I must find some healing
for my sick conscience.
WERLE. That will never be sound. Your conscience has been sick since
you were a child. That is a heritage from your mother, Gregers, the
only heritage she left you.
GREGERS (_with a scornful half smile_). Haven’t you yet got over your
anger at the mistake you made in thinking she would bring you a dowry?
WERLE. Don’t let us touch upon irrelevant things--So you hold to your
purpose of putting Ekdal on what you assume to be the right scent.
GREGERS. Yes; I do hold to my purpose.
WERLE. Well, then I might have saved myself the walk up here. For
doubtless it’s no use asking if you’ll come home again.
GREGERS. No.
WERLE. And I suppose you will not enter the firm either?
GREGERS. No.
WERLE. Good. But as I intend getting married soon, there will have to
be a division of the property.[2]
[2] In Norway a widower who marries again is by law compelled to make
provisions for his children by his former marriage.
GREGERS (_hurriedly_). No; I do not wish that.
WERLE. You do not wish it?
GREGERS. No, I dare not for my conscience sake.
WERLE (_after a short pause_). Are you going up to the Works again?
GREGERS. No, I consider myself as having left your service.
WERLE. But what shall you do then?
GREGERS. Only fulfill the mission of my life; nothing else.
WERLE. Yes, but afterwards? What will you live on?
GREGERS. I have put by a little out of my salary.
WERLE. And how long will _that_ last!
GREGERS. I think it will last my time.
WERLE. What do you mean by that?
GREGERS. I will answer nothing more now.
WERLE. Good-bye then, Gregers.
GREGERS. Good-bye.
MR. WERLE _goes out_.
HJALMAR (_looking in_). He’s gone, hasn’t he?
HJALMAR _and_ RELLING _come in_. GINA _and_ HEDVIG _also enter from
the kitchen_.
RELLING. So the lunch has come to nothing.
GREGERS. Put on your things, Hjalmar; you must go for a long walk with
me.
HJALMAR. Gladly. What did your father want? Anything to do with me?
GREGERS. Only come along. We must have a little talk together. I’ll go
in and put on my overcoat.
_He goes out at the entrance door._
GINA. You shouldn’t go out with him, Ekdal.
RELLING. No, don’t you. Stop where you are.
HJALMAR (_taking his hat and top-coat_). What nonsense! When the friend
of my youth feels the desire to open his heart to me in private!
RELLING. But deuce take it--don’t you see the fellow’s cracked, mad,
demented!
GINA. Yes, you can surely hear that. His mother used to have such fits
at times.
HJALMAR. He has all the greater need for the vigilant eye of a friend.
(_To_ GINA.) Mind dinner’s ready in good time. Good-bye for the
present. (_He goes out at the entrance-door._)
RELLING. It’s a pity that fellow didn’t go to hell by way of one of the
Hojdal mines.
GINA. Lord!--why do you say that?
RELLING (_mutters_). Oh, yes! For I’ve my suspicions.
GINA. Do you think young Werle’s really mad?
RELLING. No, worse luck, he’s not more mad than most people. But he’s
diseased all the same.
GINA. What is it that’s the matter with him then?
RELLING. Well, I’ll tell you Mrs. Ekdal. He’s suffering from an acute
attack of virtue-fever----
GINA. Virtue-fever?
HEDVIG. Is that a disease then?
RELLING. Certainly; it’s a national disease; but it only appears
sporadically. (_Nodding to_ GINA.) Thanks for your hospitality. (_He
goes out at the entrance-door._)
GINA (_walking up and down uneasily_). Uf, that Gregers Werle--he
always was a horrid beast.
HEDVIG (_standing by the table and looking at her searchingly_). It all
seems very strange to me.