[HJALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. A photograph has just been taken; a camera,
with a cloth over it, a pedestal, a few chairs, a console, and
so forth are placed down the stage. It is afternoon; the sun
is setting; a little later it begins to grow dark._ GINA _is
standing in the open entrance-door with a small box and wet plate
in her hands, and speaks to some one outside_.]
GINA. Yes, quite certain. When I promise anything I do it. The first
dozen shall be ready by Monday. Good day, good day.
_Steps are heard going down the stairs._ GINA _closes the door, puts
the plate in the box, and puts it into the covered camera_.
HEDVIG (_coming in from the kitchen_). Are they gone?
GINA (_clearing away_). Yes, thank goodness, I’ve got rid of them at
last.
HEDVIG. Can you think why father’s not come home yet?
GINA. Are you sure he’s not down at Relling’s?
HEDVIG. No, he’s not; I ran down the kitchen stairs just now and asked.
GINA. And there’s his dinner getting cold for him, too.
HEDVIG. Yes, fancy--and father’s who’s always so careful to be home to
dinner.
GINA. Oh! he’ll be here directly you’ll see.
HEDVIG. I do wish he’d come; for I think everybody’s been so strange.
GINA (_exclaims_). There he is!
HJALMAR EKDAL _comes in at the entrance door_.
HEDVIG. Father! Oh, what a time we’ve been waiting for you!
GINA (_glancing at him_). You’ve been gone a long time, Ekdal.
HJALMAR (_without looking at her_). I’ve been rather a long time, yes.
(_He takes off his overcoat._ GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go to help him. He
waives them off._)
GINA. Perhaps you’ve dined with Werle?
HJALMAR (_hanging up his coat_). No.
GINA (_going to the kitchen-door_). Then I’ll bring you in something.
HJALMAR. No, let the dinner be. I’ll not eat anything now.
HEDVIG (_going close to him_). Aren’t you well, father?
HJALMAR. Well? Oh! yes, so, so. We had a fatiguing walk, Gregers and I.
GINA. You shouldn’t have done that, Ekdal; for you’re not used to it.
HJALMAR. H’m; there’s many a thing a man must accustom himself to in
this world. (_Walks up and down a little while._) Has anyone been here
while I was out?
GINA. No one but the two sweethearts.
HJALMAR. No new orders?
GINA. No, not to-day.
HEDVIG. You’ll see, there are sure to be some to-morrow, father.
HJALMAR. I hope there may; for to-morrow I mean to set about work in
real earnest.
HEDVIG. To-morrow! Oh! but don’t you remember what day it is to-morrow?
HJALMAR. Ah! that’s true. Well, then, the day after to-morrow.
Henceforth I mean to do everything myself; I alone will do all the work.
GINA. But what’s the good of that, Ekdal? It’ll only make your life a
burden to you. I can see to the photographs, and then you can go on
with the invention.
HEDVIG. And then the wild duck, father, and all the fowls and rabbits
and----
HJALMAR. Don’t speak to me of that rubbish! From to-morrow, I’ll never
set foot in the loft again.
HEDVIG. Yes, but father, you promised me that to-morrow we’d have a
little feast.
HJALMAR. H’m, that’s true. Well, then from the day after to-morrow.
That damned wild duck, I should like to wring her neck.
HEDVIG (_shrieks_). The wild duck!
GINA. Well I never heard such a thing.
HEDVIG (_shaking him_). Oh! but father--why it’s _my_ wild duck.
HJALMAR. And therefore I will not do it. I have not the heart to
do it--not the heart to do it for your sake, Hedvig. But I feel so
strongly that I ought not to suffer any creature under my roof that has
passed through those hands.
GINA. But, good Lord, because grandfather got her from that
good-for-nothing Pettersen, you----
HJALMAR (_walking about_). There are certain demands. What shall I call
them? Let me say ideal demands--certain claims that a man can not set
aside without wronging his own soul.
HEDVIG (_following him_). But think, the wild duck--the poor wild duck!
HJALMAR (_stopping_). Why, you hear I shall spare her--for your sake.
Not a hair of her head shall be hurt; that is as I was saying, I will
spare her. For there are greater problems than that to solve. Now you
should go out a little as usual, Hedvig, it’s dark enough now for you.
HEDVIG. No, I don’t care about going out now.
HJALMAR. Yes, go along, you seem to me to be blinking so with your eyes
to-day; all the vapors in here are not good for you. The air beneath
this roof is heavy.
HEDVIG. All right, then I’ll run down the kitchen stairs and go out for
a little while. My cloak and hat?--Oh! they’re in my own room. Father,
now you mustn’t do the wild duck any harm while I’m out.
HJALMAR. Not a feather of its head shall be plucked. (_Presses her to
him._) You and I, Hedvig,--we two!--Well go now.
HEDVIG _nods to her parents and goes out through the kitchen_.
HJALMAR (_walking about without looking up_). Gina.
GINA. Yes?
HJALMAR. From to-morrow--or let us say, from the day after to-morrow--I
should like to keep the household accounts myself.
GINA. Do you want to keep the household accounts too, now?
HJALMAR. Yes, or to keep the accounts of our takings, anyhow.
GINA. Lord help us, _that’s_ soon done.
HJALMAR. I hardly believe that, for you seem to make the money go a
remarkably long way. (_Standing still and looking at her._) How do you
manage it?
GINA. It is because Hedvig and I require so little.
HJALMAR. It is true that father’s so liberally paid for the copying he
does for Mr. Werle?
GINA. I don’t know that it is so liberally. I don’t know the prices for
those sort of things.
HJALMAR. Well, about how much does father get? Tell me!
GINA. Well, it varies so. I should say it’s about as much as he costs
us, and just a little pocket money besides.
HJALMAR. As much as he costs us! And you never told me this before.
GINA. No, I could not for you were so happy to think that he had
everything from you.
HJALMAR. And so father gets this from Mr. Werle!
GINA. Oh yes! Mr. Werle’s got enough and to spare, he has.
HJALMAR. Light the lamp!
GINA (_lighting it_). And then we don’t know that it is Mr. Werle
himself; it may be Graberg who----
HJALMAR. Why these subterfuges about Graberg?
GINA. I don’t know, I only thought----
HJALMAR. H’m!
GINA. Well, it wasn’t me that got grandfather the writing. Why it was
Bertha when she went to the house.
HJALMAR. Your voice seems to me to be trembling.
GINA (_putting the shade over the lamp_). Does it?
HJALMAR. And your hands are shaking. Aren’t they?
GINA (_firmly_). Speak straight out, Ekdal. What is it he’s gone and
said about me?
HJALMAR. Is it true--_can_ it be true that--that there was a kind of
relation between you and Mr. Werle, while you were in service at his
house?
GINA. That is not true. Not at that time, no. Mr. Werle was after me,
certainly. And the wife fancied there was something in it, and then she
made such a hocus-pocus and hurly-burly, and she knocked me about and
drove me about so--that she did--and so I left her service.
HJALMAR.--Afterward then!
GINA. Yes. Then I went home. And mother--she wasn’t as good as you
thought, Ekdal; and she kept on at me about one thing and another--for
Mr. Werle was a widower then.
HJALMAR. Well, and then!
GINA. Well, I suppose it’s best you should know it. He didn’t let me
alone until he’d had his will of me.
HJALMAR (_clasping his hands_). And this is the mother of my child! How
could you conceal such a thing from me!
GINA. Yes, that was wrong of me; I ought certainly to have told you
long ago.
HJALMAR. You ought to have told it me at once. Then I should have known
what sort of a creature you were.
GINA. But would you have married me all the same?
HJALMAR. How can you imagine such a thing!
GINA. No; that is why I did not dare tell you anything then. For I grew
to care so very much for you, as you know. And I couldn’t go and make
myself absolutely wretched----
HJALMAR (_walking about_). And this is my Hedvig’s mother. And to know
all that I see before my eyes---- (_Kicking a chair._)--All my home--I
owe it all to a favored predecessor. Ah! that seducer, Werle!
GINA. Do you repent the fourteen or fifteen years that we have lived
together?
HJALMAR (_standing in front of her_). Tell me, have you not repented
every day, every hour, for the web of deceit that, like a spider, you
have spun around me? Answer me that! Have you not really gone about
here remorseful and penitent?
GINA. Ah! dear Ekdal, I’ve had quite enough to think of with the house
and all the daily work----
HJALMAR. So you never cast a searching glance at your past?
GINA. No; God knows, I had almost forgotten those old intrigues.
HJALMAR. Ah! This callous, insensible calm! There is something so
revolting to me in this! Think--not even remorse.
GINA. But tell me, Ekdal, what would have become of you if you had not
found a wife like me?
HJALMAR. Like you----
GINA. Yes, for I’ve always been a little more businesslike and
practical than you. Well, of course, that’s natural, for I’m a few
years older.
HJALMAR. What would have become of me!
GINA. For you had got into all sorts of bad habits when you first met
me; you surely can’t deny that.
HJALMAR. So you call those bad habits! Ah! you don’t understand a man’s
feelings, when he is in sorrow and despair--especially a man with my
fiery temperament.
GINA. Well, well, that may be. And I’m not regaling about all that
either; for you became such a model husband as soon as ever you’d a
house and home of your own. And now we’ve made it all so comfortable
and cosy here; and Hedvig and I were soon going to spend a little more
both for food and clothes.
HJALMAR. In the swamp of deceit, yes.
GINA. Oh! that that abominable fellow should ever have set foot in this
house!
HJALMAR. I too thought home good to be in. That was a delusion. Whence
now shall I get the needful elasticity of mind to bring the invention
into the world of realities. Perhaps it will die with me, and then it
will be your past, Gina, that has slain it.
GINA (_almost crying_). No, you mustn’t say any such thing, Ekdal. I,
who all my days have only tried to do the best for you!
HJALMAR. I ask--what becomes now of the bread-winner’s dream? When I
lay in there on the sofa pondering over the invention, I already had
the presentiment that it would devour my whole powers. I felt, too,
that the day when I should hold the patent in my hands--that day would
be my last. And so it was my dream that you should be left here the
well-to-do widow of the departed inventor.
GINA (_drying her tears_). No, you _must_ not speak like that, Ekdal.
God forbid I should live to see the day when I was a widow!
HJALMAR. Ah! ’tis all one. Now all this is past anyhow. All!
GREGERS WERLE _opens the entrance-door cautiously and looks in_.
GREGERS. May I come in?
HJALMAR. Yes, do.
GREGERS (_enters with a face beaming with delight and holds out his
hands to them_). Now, my dear friends (_looking at them alternately and
whispering to_ HJALMAR) so it is not yet over?
HJALMAR (_aloud_). It _is_ over.
GREGERS. It is?
HJALMAR. I have passed through the bitterest moments of my life.
GREGERS. But the most ennobling, too, I should think.
HJALMAR. Well, at any rate it’s off our hands.
GINA. God forgive you, Mr. Werle.
GREGERS (_with the utmost astonishment_). But I don’t understand this.
HJALMAR. What don’t you understand?
GREGERS. So great a reckoning--a reckoning that is to lay the
foundation of a new life--the living together in truth and without all
deceit----
HJALMAR. Yes, I know that well enough, I know that so well.
GREGERS. I felt so sure that as I entered the door, a light of
transfiguration and joy from the faces of both man and wife would
shine upon me. And now I see nothing but this dull, dreary, sad----
GINA. Oh, that’s it!
_Takes the shade off the lamp._
GREGERS. You will not understand me, Mrs. Ekdal, well, well, for you I
dare say it will take time. But, you yourself, Hjalmar? You must feel a
higher consecration after this great reckoning?
HJALMAR. Yes, of course, I do. That is to say, after a fashion.
GREGERS. For surely there is nothing on earth to compare with this, to
forgive one who has erred, and lovingly to raise her up to yourself.
HJALMAR. Do you think a man can so easily forget a draught so bitter as
that which I have drained.
GREGERS. An _ordinary_ man, no; that may be. But a man like you!
HJALMAR. Yes. Good gracious, I knew that well enough. But you mustn’t
drive me, Gregers. It takes time, you see.
GREGERS. You have a great deal of the wild duck in you, Hjalmar.
RELLING _has come in at the entrance door_.
RELLING. Hallo! Is the wild duck to the fore again?
HJALMAR. Mr. Werle senior’s broken-winged victim of the chase, yes.
RELLING. Mr. Werle senior’s? Is it he you are speaking of?
HJALMAR. Of him and of--us others.
RELLING (_in a low tone to_ GREGERS). The devil take you!
HJALMAR. What is that you’re saying?
RELLING. I was wishing heartily that the quack would take himself off
home. If he stops here he’s just the man to muddle things up for you
both.
GREGERS. Things will not be muddled for these two, Mr. Relling. I will
not speak of Hjalmar now. Him we know. But she, too, at the bottom of
her heart must surely have some truth, some sincerity.
GINA (_tearfully_). You might have let me pass for what I _was_ then?
RELLING (_to_ GREGERS). Would it be impertinent to inquire, what it is
you really want in this house?
GREGERS. I wish to lay the foundation of a true marriage.
RELLING. So you don’t think that the Ekdal’s marriage is good enough as
it is?
GREGERS. It is certainly quite as good a marriage as most others,
unfortunately. But it has not yet become a _true_ marriage.
HJALMAR. You have never had any sense for the claims of the ideal,
Relling.
RELLING. Stuff and nonsense, my good fellow! With your permission, Mr.
Werle--how many--approximately--how many true marriages have you seen
in your life?
GREGERS. I hardly think I’ve seen a single one.
RELLING. Nor have I.
GREGERS. But I have seen such numberless marriages of the opposite
kind. And I have had occasions to see, from personal observation, how
such marriages can demoralize two human beings.
HJALMAR. The whole moral foundation of a man may give way beneath his
feet; _that_ is the terrible part of it.
RELLING. Well, I’ve never exactly been married, so I’m no judge of such
things. But this I do know, the _child_ is part of the marriage too.
And you must leave the child at peace.
HJALMAR. Ah! Hedvig! My poor Hedvig!
RELLING. Yes, you must be so good as to keep Hedvig out of all this.
You two are grown-up people; you can, in God’s name muddle and meddle
with your lives, if you feel inclined. But you must be careful with
Hedvig, I tell you, else you may do her a mischief.
HJALMAR. A mischief!
RELLING. Yes--or she may do herself a mischief!--and perhaps others,
too.
GINA. But how can _you_ know that, Relling?
HJALMAR. There is no immediate danger to her eyes.
RELLING. This has nothing to do with her eyes. But Hedvig is at an
awkward age. She might get into all sorts of mischief.
GINA. Yes, just fancy--she does that already! She’s begun carrying on
with the fire out in the kitchen. She calls it playing at house on
fire. I’m often frightened she’ll set fire to the house.
RELLING. There you see, I knew it well enough.
GREGERS (_to_ RELLING). But how do you account for this?
RELLING (_sulkily_). She is passing through a constitutional change,
man.
HJALMAR. As long as the child has me!--So long as my head is above
ground----
_There is a knock at the door._
GINA. Hush, Ekdal! There is some one in the passage. (_Calls out._)
Come in!
MRS. SORBY, _in walking costume, comes in_.
MRS. SORBY. Good evening!
GINA (_going up to her_). What, is it you, Bertha!
MRS. SORBY. Yes, indeed it is. I hope I’m not in the way.
HJALMAR. Not in the least; an emissary from _that_ house----
MRS. SORBY. Frankly, I didn’t expect to find your men-folk at home
about this time; and so I ran up for a little chat with you, and to bid
you good-by.
GINA. Really? Are you going away?
MRS. SORBY. Yes, early to-morrow; up to Hojdal. Mr. Werle left this
afternoon. (_Lightly to_ GREGERS.) He sent his greetings to you.
GINA. Well, I never!----
HJALMAR. So Mr. Werle has gone away? And now you are going after him!
MRS. SORBY. Yes, what do you think of that, Ekdal?
HJALMAR. I say, be on your guard.
GREGERS. I can explain it to you. My father is going to marry Mrs.
Sorby.
HJALMAR. Marry her!
GINA. Really, Bertha, at last then!
RELLING (_his voice trembles slightly_). Surely this isn’t true?
MRS. SORBY. Yes, dear Relling, it is true enough.
RELLING. Are you going to marry again now?
MRS. SORBY. Yes, it looks like it. Werle has got a special license and
so we’re going to keep our wedding quite quietly up at the Works.
GREGERS. I suppose as a good step-son I must wish you happiness.
MRS. SORBY. Thank you--if you really mean it. And I hope it will be for
both Werle’s and my own happiness.
RELLING. You may certainly hope that. Mr. Werle never gets drunk----so
far as I know; and he’s certainly not in the habit of beating his wives
either, like the late lamented horse-doctor used to do.
MRS. SORBY. Ah! let Sorby be in peace where he lies. He also had his
good sides; he, too----
RELLING. But Mr. Werle has better sides, I dare swear.
MRS. SORBY. At any rate he hasn’t wasted what was best in him. The man
who does that must take the consequences.
RELLING. I shall go out this evening with Molvik.
MRS. SORBY. You shouldn’t do that, Relling. Don’t do it--for my sake.
RELLING. There’s nothing else for it. (_To_ HJALMAR.) If you want to
make one of us, come along.
GINA. No, thanks. Ekdal doesn’t go in for that sort of divulsions.
HJALMAR (_vexed, in a low voice_). Ah! be quiet.
RELLING. Good-by, Mrs.---- Werle.
_He goes out through the entrance-door._
GREGERS (_to_ MRS. SORBY). It seems you and Dr. Relling knew one
another pretty intimately.
MRS. SORBY. Yes, we’ve known one another for many a year. Once, indeed,
it might have come to something between us, too.
GREGERS. It was a good thing for you it didn’t.
MRS. SORBY. You may well say that. But I have always taken care not to
act upon impulse. And a woman can’t throw herself quite away, either.
GREGERS. Are you not in the least afraid that I might give my father a
hint as to this old acquaintance?
MRS. SORBY. Surely you understand that I have told him myself.
GREGERS. Indeed?
MRS. SORBY. Your father knows down to the very least detail all that
people might fairly say against me. I have told him all this; it was
the first thing I did when he let me see his intentions.
GREGERS. You are more than commonly frank, I think.
MRS. SORBY. I have always been frank. That’s the best way for us women.
HJALMAR. What do you say to that, Gina?
GINA. Ah! we women are so different, we are. Some take one way and some
another.
MRS. SORBY. Yes, Gina, but I believe it is wisest to arrange matters
as I have done. And Werle, too, has concealed nothing of what concerns
himself from me. Indeed, it was _that_ which chiefly brought us
together. Now he can sit and talk to me as frankly as a child. He has
never been able to do that all his life. He, the strong man, full of
life, heard nothing all through his youth and all through the best
years of his life but sermons. And many a time the sermons were about
merely imaginary offenses--as I’ve heard say.
GINA. Yes, what they say’s true enough.
GREGERS. If you ladies are going to discuss that subject I had better
go.
MRS. SORBY. You needn’t go on that account. I shall not say another
word. I only wanted you to know that I had done nothing deceitful or in
any way underhand. It may be, perhaps, a great piece of good fortune
for me--and so indeed it is in some respects. But still I think I
receive no more than I give. Assuredly I shall never fail him. And
I shall serve him and tend him as no one else could, now that he is
becoming helpless.
HJALMAR. Helpless?
GREGERS (_to_ MRS. SORBY). Don’t speak of that here.
MRS. SORBY. It’s no use hiding it any longer, much as he would like to.
He’s going blind.
HJALMAR (_starting_). Going blind? That’s strange. He is going blind,
too?
GINA. So many people do.
MRS. SORBY. And you can imagine what that means to a business man.
Well, I shall try to use my eyes for him as well as I can. But I
mustn’t stay any longer, I’m so busy just now--oh! I was to tell you
Ekdal, that if there was anything Werle could do for you, you have only
to apply to Graberg.
GREGERS. I’m sure Hjalmar Ekdal will decline that offer.
MRS. SORBY. Indeed? I don’t think he used to be so----
GINA. Yes, Bertha, Ekdal wants nothing more from Mr. Werle.
HJALMAR (_slowly and emphatically_). Will you present my compliments to
your future husband, and tell him that I intend very shortly to call
upon the book-keeper, Graberg----
GREGERS. What! You’ll do that.
HJALMAR. ----to call upon the book-keeper, Graberg, I say, and ask for
an account of the money I owe his principal. I shall pay back this debt
of honor--ha, ha, ha! let us call it a debt of honor! But enough of
this. I shall repay the whole with five per cent interest.
GINA. But, dear Ekdal, goodness knows we’ve not the money to do it.
HJALMAR. Will you tell your betrothed that I am working indefatigably
at my invention. Will you tell him that what sustained my strength for
this exhausting labor, is the desire to be rid of the torture of this
load of debt. That’s why I go on with the invention. I shall devote the
whole of the profits to the repayment of the pecuniary advances made me
by your future consort.
MRS. SORBY. Something has happened in this house.
HJALMAR. Yes, there has.
MRS. SORBY. Well, good-bye then. There are lots of things I want to
talk to you about, Gina, but they must wait till another time. Good-bye.
HJALMAR _and_ GREGERS _bow silently_; GINA _follows_ MRS. SORBY _to
the door_.
HJALMAR. Not beyond the threshold, Gina! (MRS. SORBY _goes out_, GINA
_closes the door after her_.) Gregers! Now I am free of this dead
weight of indebtedness.
GREGERS. At any rate you soon will be.
HJALMAR. I think my attitude may be called correct.
GREGERS. You are the man I have always taken you for.
HJALMAR. In certain cases it is impossible to set aside the claims of
the ideal. As the bread-winner of a family, I must writhe and agonize
beneath this. For believe me, it’s no joke for a man of small means to
pay off a debt that has been accumulating for years, over which, so to
say, the dust of oblivion lies. But be this as it may, the Man in me
too demands his rights.
GREGERS (_putting his hands on his shoulders_). Dear Hjalmar--was it
not well that I came?
HJALMAR. Yes.
GREGERS. That you were shown clearly your true position--was it not
well?
HJALMAR (_somewhat impatiently_). Yes, of course it was well. But there
is one thing against which my sense of justice revolts.
GREGERS. And what is that?
HJALMAR. It is this, that--but I really don’t know if I may express
myself so freely about your father.
GREGERS. Pray do not mind me in the least!
HJALMAR. Very well. You see, it seems to me so revolting to think that
now it is not I, but he who will realize the true marriage.
GREGERS. How can you say such a thing!
HJALMAR. But it is so. For your father and Mrs. Sorby are entering
upon a marriage-contract founded upon complete confidence, founded
upon perfect and absolute frankness on both sides; there are no
concealments between them; there’s nothing kept in the background in
their relation; the two sinners, if I may so express myself, proclaim
mutual forgiveness.
GREGERS. Well, and what then?
HJALMAR. But that’s the whole point of the thing. Why it was all these
difficulties, as you yourself said, that were needed to found a true
marriage.
GREGERS. But this is quite another matter, Hjalmar. Surely you would
not conjure either yourself or her with those two. Oh! you understand
me.
HJALMAR. But I can’t get away from the fact, that in all this there is
something that wounds and offends my sense of rectitude. Why, it looks
exactly as if there were no righteous providence in the direction of
the world.
GINA. Oh! Ekdal, God knows you mustn’t say such things.
GREGERS. H’m, don’t let us enter upon that question.
HJALMAR. But, on the other hand, I seem to behold the guiding finger of
Fate. He is going blind.
GINA. Oh! perhaps that’s not so very certain.
HJALMAR. It is indubitable. We, at any rate, ought not to question
that, for it is just in this fact that there lies the righteous
retribution. He has in his time blinded a trusting fellow-creature.
GREGERS. Unfortunately he has blinded many.
HJALMAR. And now Fate, the inexorable, the mysterious, demands his own
eyes.
GINA. How can you dare to say such awful things! I’m quite frightened.
HJALMAR. It is good at times to ponder upon the seamy side of existence.
HEDVIG, _with hat and cloak, delighted and out of breath, comes in at
the entrance door_.
GINA. Are you back again already?
HEDVIG. Yes, I didn’t want to stop any longer. And it’s a good thing I
didn’t, for I met somebody at the door.
HJALMAR. I suppose it was that Mrs. Sorby.
HEDVIG. Yes.
HJALMAR (_walking up and down_). I hope you’ve seen her for the last
time.
_A pause._ HEDVIG _looks shyly from one to the other as if to see
what it all means_.
HEDVIG (_going up to him coaxingly_). Father!
HJALMAR. Well--what is it, Hedvig?
HEDVIG. Mrs. Sorby had brought me something.
HJALMAR (_stopping still_). For you?
HEDVIG. Yes. It’s something for to-morrow.
GINA. Bertha has always brought some little thing for you on that day.
HJALMAR. What is it?
HEDVIG. You mustn’t know now; for mother’s to give it me in bed
to-morrow morning.
HJALMAR. Ah! All this companionship from which I am shut out!
HEDVIG (_quickly_). No, you can see if you like it. It’s a big letter.
(_Taking the letter from her cloak pocket._)
HJALMAR. A letter, too?
HEDVIG. Yes, it’s only a letter. I suppose the other’s coming later.
But fancy--a letter! I’ve never had a letter before. And there’s “Miss”
on the outside. (_Reads._) “Miss Hedvig Ekdal.” Fancy--that’s me.
HJALMAR. Let me see that letter.
HEDVIG (_holding it out to him_). There, you can see.
HJALMAR. It is Mr. Werle’s hand.
GINA. Are you sure of that, Ekdal?
HJALMAR. See for yourself.
GINA. Oh! Do you think I understand anything about it?
HJALMAR. Hedvig, may I open the letter--and read it?
HEDVIG. Yes, of course you may, if you like.
GINA. No, not to-night, Ekdal; why it’s for to-morrow.
HEDVIG (_in a low tone_). Oh! do let him read it! It’s sure to be
something nice, and then father’ll be glad and he’ll be in good spirits
again.
HJALMAR. Then I may open it.
HEDVIG. Yes, please do, father. It’ll be such fun to know what it is.
HJALMAR. Good. (_He opens the letter, takes out a paper, reads it
through and seems confused._) What is this!----
GINA. What’s in it, then?
HEDVIG. Oh, yes, father--tell us!
HJALMAR. Be silent. (_Reads it through again; he turns pale but masters
himself._) It’s a deed of gift, Hedvig.
HEDVIG. Fancy! What is it I’m to have?
HJALMAR. Read it yourself. (HEDVIG _goes to the lamp and reads a
moment_.)
HJALMAR (_in a low voice, clenching his hands_). The eyes! the
eyes!--and now this letter!
HEDVIG (_leaves off reading_). Yes, but I think this is meant for
grandfather.
HJALMAR (_taking the letter from her_). You Gina--can you understand
this?
GINA. Why, I don’t know anything on earth about it--just tell us.
HJALMAR. Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grandfather need no
longer trouble himself with copying, but that for the future he’s to
draw a hundred crowns a month at the office.
GREGERS. Aha!
HEDVIG. A hundred crowns, mother! I read that.
GINA. That’ll come in very well for grandfather.
HJALMAR.----A hundred crowns as long as he may need it--that means, of
course, until he has closed his eyes in death.
GINA. Well, then he’s provided for, poor old fellow.
HJALMAR. But there’s more follows. You didn’t read this, Hedvig.
Afterwards it’s to revert to you.
HEDVIG. To me! All of it?
HJALMAR. He writes that the same sum is assured to you for your whole
life. Do you hear that, Gina?
GINA. Yes, I hear well enough.
HEDVIG. Fancy--I’m to have all that money! (_Shaking him._) Father,
father, aren’t you glad----
HJALMAR (_evasively_). Glad! (_Walking about the room._) Ah! what an
out-look!--what a perspective unrolls itself before me! It is Hedvig,
it is she whom he endows so richly!
GINA. Why, it’s Hedvig’s birthday----
HEDVIG. And it’ll be yours all the same, father! You know that I shall
give all the money to you and mother.
HJALMAR. To mother; yes. That’s it.
GREGERS. Hjalmar, this is a snare he is laying for you.
HJALMAR. Do you think this is another snare?
GREGERS. When he was here this morning he said, “Hjalmar Ekdal is not
the man you take him for.”
HJALMAR. Not the man!
GREGERS. “You will see that,” he said.
HJALMAR. You were to see that I would allow myself to be bought with
money----
HEDVIG. But, mother, what’s the matter?
GINA. Go and take off your things.
HEDVIG _goes out almost crying, at the kitchen door_.
GREGERS. Yes, Hjalmar--now we shall see who is right--he or I.
HJALMAR (_slowly tears the paper across, and lays both pieces on the
table_). Here is my answer.
GREGERS. I expected it.
HJALMAR (_going up to_ GINA _who stands by the oven, and speaking in a
low tone_). And now no more deceit. If the connection between you and
him was quite at an end, when you--came to care for me, as you call
it--why did he make it possible for us to marry?
GINA. I suppose he thought he’d be free of the house.
HJALMAR. Only _that_? Wasn’t he afraid of a certain result?
GINA. I don’t understand what you mean.
HJALMAR. I want to know if--your child has the right to live under my
roof.
GINA (_drawing herself up, her eyes flashing_). And you ask that?
HJALMAR. You must answer me this one question: Is Hedvig my child,
or----? Well!
GINA (_looks at him with cold defiance_). I don’t know.
HJALMAR (_shudders slightly_). You don’t know!
GINA. How should _I_ know? Such a woman as I?
HJALMAR (_quietly turning from her_). Then I have nothing more to do in
this house.
GREGERS. Think what you’re doing, Hjalmar.
HJALMAR (_taking up his overcoat_). There’s nothing for a man like me
to think about here.
GREGERS. Yes, here there is so much to be thought over. You three
must remain together, if you are to reach the great height of
self-sacrificing forgiveness.
HJALMAR. I will not. Never, never! My hat! (_Takes his hat._) My home
has fallen into ruins about me (_bursting into tears_). Gregers, I have
no child!
HEDVIG (_who has opened the kitchen door_). What do you say? (_Going up
to him._) Father, father!
GINA. There now!
HJALMAR. Do not come near me, Hedvig. Stand away. I can not bear to see
you. Ah! the eyes! Good-bye.
_Goes towards the door._
HEDVIG (_holding him fast and crying out_). No, no! No, no! Don’t go
away from me!
GINA (_calls out_). Look at the child, Ekdal! Look at the child!
HJALMAR. I will not. I can not. I must away; away from all this.
_He tears himself away from_ HEDVIG _and goes out at the
entrance-door_.
HEDVIG (_with despairing look_). He is going from us mother! He is
going from us! He will never come back again!
GINA. If only you’ll not cry, Hedvig, father’ll come again!
HEDVIG (_throws herself sobbing upon the sofa_). No, no, he’ll never
come home to us any more.
GREGERS. You believe that I meant it all for the best, Mrs. Ekdal?
GINA. Yes, I do almost, but God forgive you, all the same.
HEDVIG (_lying on the sofa_). Oh! I feel as if it would kill me! What
have I done to him? Mother, you must bring him home again!
GINA. Yes, yes, yes; only be quiet, and I’ll go out and look for him.
(_Puts on her out-door things._) Perhaps he’s gone to Relling’s. But
you mustn’t lie there and howl. Will you promise me that?
HEDVIG (_crying convulsively_). Yes, I’ll stop, if only father will
come home again.
GREGERS (_to_ GINA _who is going out_). Wouldn’t it be better after all
that you let him first fight out to the end his bitter fight?
GINA. Oh! he can do that afterwards. First and foremost we must quiet
the child.
_She goes out at the entrance-door._
HEDVIG (_sitting up and drying her eyes_). Now you must tell me what
it’s all about. Why won’t father have anything more to do with me?
GREGERS. You mustn’t ask about that till you’re a big girl and grown up.
HEDVIG (_sobbing_). But I can’t go on being so terribly miserable till
I’m big and grown up--I know what it is--perhaps I’m not father’s real
child.
GREGERS (_uneasily_). How could that be?
HEDVIG. Why, mother may have found me. And now, perhaps, father has got
to know it; for I’ve read about such things.
GREGERS. Well, but if it were so----
HEDVIG. Yes, I think he might love me just as much for all that. And
even more. Why the wild duck, too, was sent us for a present, and yet I
care so much for her.
GREGERS (_trying to change the subject_). Yes, the wild duck, that’s
true! Let’s talk a little about the wild duck, Hedvig.
HEDVIG. The poor wild duck. He can’t bear to see her either. Only
think, he wanted to wring her neck!
GREGERS. Oh! he’ll not do that I’m sure.
HEDVIG. No, but he said so. And I think it was so horrid of father,
because I say my prayers for the wild duck every night and beg she may
be preserved from death, and all that is evil.
GREGERS (_looking at her_). Do you always say your prayers at night?
HEDVIG. Oh, yes.
GREGERS. Who taught you to do that?
HEDVIG. I myself; it was once when father was so ill, and had leeches
on his throat, and then he said he was wrestling with death.
GREGERS. Well?
HEDVIG. So I prayed for him after I had gone to bed. And ever since
I’ve gone on with it.
GREGERS. And now you pray for the wild duck, too?
HEDVIG. I thought it would be best to put the wild duck in too, for she
was so sickly at first.
GREGERS. Do you pray in the morning, too?
HEDVIG. No, I don’t do that.
GREGERS. Why not in the morning as well?
HEDVIG. Oh! it’s light in the morning, and there’s nothing to be afraid
of.
GREGERS. And the wild duck that you’re so very fond of--your father
wanted to wring its neck?
HEDVIG. No, he said it would be best for him if he did, but that he
would spare her for my sake; and that was very good of father.
GREGERS (_coming a little closer_). But if you were to sacrifice the
wild duck of your own free will for his sake?
HEDVIG (_rising_). The wild duck!
GREGERS. If you now freely sacrificed for him the best thing you know
and possess on earth?
HEDVIG. Do you think that would help?
GREGERS. Try it, Hedvig.
HEDVIG (_in a low voice and brightening eyes_). Yes, I will try.
GREGERS. And do you think you’ve enough strength of mind?
HEDVIG. I will ask grandfather to shoot her for me.
GREGERS. Yes, do so. But not a word of all this to your mother!
HEDVIG. Why not?
GREGERS. She does not understand us.
HEDVIG. The wild duck? I’ll try it early to-morrow.
GINA _comes in at the entrance door_.
HEDVIG (_going up to her_). Did you meet him, mother?
GINA. No, but I heard that he’d gone into Relling’s and taken him along
with him.
GREGERS. Are you sure of that?
GINA. Yes, the porter’s wife told me. Molvik went with them too, she
said.
GREGERS. And this at a time when he needs so sorely to wrestle in
solitude!
GINA (_taking off her things_). Yes, men folk are so different. Heaven
knows where Relling has dragged him to. I ran over to Mrs. Ericksen’s;
but they weren’t there.
HEDVIG (_struggling with her tears_). Oh! if he should never come home
any more!
GREGERS. He _will_ come home again. I will bear him a message
to-morrow, and you will see _how_ he’ll come. Sleep peacefully on that,
Hedvig. Good night.
_He goes out at the entrance door._
HEDVIG (_throwing herself sobbing on_ GINA’S _neck_). Mother, mother!
GINA (_patting her on the back and sighing_). Ah, yes! Relling was
right. That is what comes of crazy people going about and presenting
intricate claims.