Chapter VI: Part 6

[OLD EKDAL _comes from his room without his pipe, but with his
old-fashioned uniform cap on his head; his gait is somewhat
unsteady._

EKDAL.

Come now, Hialmar, let’s sit down and have a good talk about this—h’m—what was it again?

HIALMAR.

[_Going towards him._] Father, we have a visitor here—Gregers Werle.—I don’t know if you remember him.

EKDAL.

[_Looking at GREGERS, who has risen._] Werle? Is that the son? What does he want with me?

HIALMAR.

Nothing; it’s me he has come to see.

EKDAL.

Oh! Then there’s nothing wrong?

HIALMAR.

No, no, of course not.

EKDAL.

[_With a large gesture._] Not that I'm afraid, you know; but——

GREGERS.

[_Goes over to him._] I bring you a greeting from your old hunting-grounds, Lieutenant Ekdal.

EKDAL.

Hunting-grounds?

GREGERS.

Yes, up in Höidal, about the works, you know.

EKDAL.

Oh, up there. Yes, I knew all those places well in the old days.

GREGERS.

You were a great sportsman then.

EKDAL.

So I was, I don’t deny it. You’re looking at my uniform cap. I don’t ask anybody’s leave to wear it in the house. So long as I don’t go out in the streets with it——

[HEDVIG _brings a plate of bread and butter, which she puts upon
the table._

HIALMAR.

Sit down, father, and have a glass of beer. Help yourself, Gregers.

[EKDAL _mutters and stumbles over to the sofa._ GREGERS _seats
himself on the chair nearest to him,_ HIALMAR _on the other
side of_ GREGERS. GINA _sits a little way from the table,
sewing;_ HEDVIG _stands beside her father._

GREGERS.

Can you remember, Lieutenant Ekdal, how Hialmar and I used to come up and visit you in the summer and at Christmas?

EKDAL.

Did you? No, no, no; I don’t remember it. But sure enough I've been a tidy bit of a sportsman in my day. I've shot bears too. I've shot nine of 'em, no less.

GREGERS.

[_Looking sympathetically at him._] And now you never get any shooting?

EKDAL.

Can’t just say that, sir. Get a shot now and then perhaps. Of course not in the old way. For the woods you see—the woods, the woods——! [_Drinks._] Are the woods fine up there now?

GREGERS.

Not so fine as in your time. They have been thinned a good deal.

EKDAL.

Thinned? [_More softly, and as if afraid._] It’s dangerous work that. Bad things come of it. The woods revenge themselves.

HIALMAR.

[_Filling up his glass._] Come—a little more, father.

GREGERS.

How can a man like you—such a man for the open air—live in the midst of a stuffy town, boxed within four walls?

EKDAL.

[_Laughs quietly and glances at HIALMAR._] Oh, it’s not so bad here. Not at all so bad.

GREGERS.

But don’t you miss all the things that used to be a part of your very being—the cool sweeping breezes, the free life in the woods and on the uplands, among beasts and birds——?

EKDAL.

[_Smiling._] Hialmar, shall we let him see it?

HIALMAR.

[_Hastily and a little embarrassed._] Oh no no, father; not this evening.

GREGERS.

What does he want to show me?

HIALMAR.

Oh, it’s only something—you can see it another time.

GREGERS.

[_Continues, to the old man._] You see I have been thinking, Lieutenant Ekdal, that you should come up with me to the works; I am sure to be going back soon. No doubt you could get some copying there too. And here, you have nothing on earth to interest you—nothing to liven you up.

EKDAL.

[_Stares in astonishment at him._] Have _I_ nothing on earth to——!

GREGERS.

Of course you have Hialmar; but then he has his own family. And a man like you, who has always had such a passion for what is free and wild——

EKDAL.

[_Thumps the table._] Hialmar, he _shall_ see it!

HIALMAR.

Oh, do you think it’s worth while, father? It’s all dark.

EKDAL.

Nonsense; it’s moonlight. [_Rises._] He _shall_ see it, I tell you. Let me pass! Come and help me, Hialmar.

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, do, father!

HIALMAR.

[_Rising._] Very well then.

GREGERS.

[_To_ GINA.] What is it?

GINA.

Oh, nothing so very wonderful, after all.

[EKDAL _and_ HIALMAR _have gone to the back wall and are each
pushing back a side of the sliding door;_ HEDVIG _helps the
old man;_ GREGERS _remains standing by the sofa;_ GINA _sits
still and sews. Through the open doorway a large, deep
irregular garret is seen with odd nooks and corners; a
couple of stove-pipes running through it, from rooms below.
There are sky-lights through which clear moonbeams shine in
on some parts of the great room; others lie in deep shadow._

EKDAL.

[_To GREGERS._] You may come close up if you like.

GREGERS.

[_Going over to them._] Why, what is it?

EKDAL.

Look for yourself. H'm.

HIALMAR.

[_Somewhat embarrassed._] This belongs to father, you understand.

GREGERS.

[_At the door, looks into the garret._] Why, you keep poultry, Lieutenant Ekdal.

EKDAL.

Should think we _did_ keep poultry. They’ve gone to roost now. But you should just see our fowls by daylight, sir!

HEDVIG.

And there’s a——

EKDAL.

Sh—sh! don’t say anything about it yet.

GREGERS.

And you have pigeons too, I see.

EKDAL.

Oh yes, haven’t we just got pigeons! They have their nest-boxes up there under the roof-tree; for pigeons like to roost high, you see.

HIALMAR.

They aren’t all common pigeons.

EKDAL.

Common! Should think not indeed! We have tumblers, and a pair of pouters, too. But come here! Can you see that hutch down there by the wall?

GREGERS.

Yes; what do you use it for?

EKDAL.

That’s where the rabbits sleep, sir.

GREGERS.

Dear me; so you have rabbits too?

EKDAL.

Yes, you may take my word for it, we have rabbits! He wants to know if we have rabbits, Hialmar! H'm! But now comes the thing, let me tell you! Here we have it! Move away, Hedvig. Stand here; that’s right,—and now look down there.—Don’t you see a basket with straw in it?

GREGERS.

Yes. And I can see a fowl lying in the basket.

EKDAL.

H’m—“a fowl”——

GREGERS.

Isn’t it a duck?

EKDAL.

[_Hurt._] Why, of course it’s a duck.

HIALMAR.

But what _kind_ of duck, do you think?

HEDVIG.

It’s not just a common duck——

EKDAL.

Sh!

GREGERS.

And it’s not a Muscovy duck either.

EKDAL.

No, Mr.—Werle; it’s not a Muscovy duck; for it’s a wild duck!

GREGERS.

Is it really? A wild duck?

EKDAL.

Yes, that’s what it is. That “fowl” as you call it—is the wild duck. It’s our wild duck, sir.

HEDVIG.

_My_ wild duck. It belongs to me.

GREGERS.

And can it live up here in the garret? Does it thrive?

EKDAL.

Of course it has a trough of water to splash about in, you know.

HIALMAR.

Fresh water every other day.

GINA.

[_Turning towards HIALMAR._] But my dear Ekdal, it’s getting icy cold here.

EKDAL.

H'm, we had better shut up then. It’s as well not to disturb their night’s rest, too. Close up, Hedvig.

[HIALMAR _and_ HEDVIG _push the garret doors together._

EKDAL.

Another time you shall see her properly. [_Seats himself in the arm-chair by the stove._] Oh, they’re curious things, these wild ducks, I can tell you.

GREGERS.

How did you manage to catch it, Lieutenant Ekdal?

EKDAL.

_I_ didn’t catch it. There’s a certain man in this town whom we have to thank for it.

GREGERS.

[_Starts slightly._] That man was not my father, was he?

EKDAL.

You’ve hit it. Your father and no one else. H'm.

HIALMAR.

Strange that you should guess that, Gregers.

GREGERS.

You were telling me that you owed so many things to my father; and so I thought perhaps——

GINA.

But we didn’t get the duck from Mr. Werle himself——

EKDAL.

It’s Håkon Werle we have to thank for her, all the same, Gina. [_To GREGERS._] He was shooting from a boat, you see, and he brought her down. But your father’s sight is not very good now. H'm; she was only wounded.

GREGERS.

Ah! She got a couple of slugs in her body, I suppose.

HIALMAR.

Yes, two or three.

HEDVIG.

She was hit under the wing, so that she couldn’t fly.

GREGERS.

And I suppose she dived to the bottom, eh?

EKDAL.

[_Sleepily, in a thick voice._] Of course. Always do that, wild ducks do. They shoot to the bottom as deep as they can get, sir—and bite themselves fast in the tangle and seaweed—and all the devil’s own mess that grows down there. And they never come up again.

GREGERS.

But _your_ wild duck came up again, Lieutenant Ekdal.

EKDAL.

He had such an amazingly clever dog, your father had. And that dog—he dived in after the duck and fetched her up again.

GREGERS.

[_Who has turned to HIALMAR._] And then she was sent to you here?

HIALMAR.

Not at once; at first your father took her home. But she wouldn’t thrive there; so Pettersen was told to put an end to her——

EKDAL.

[_Half asleep._] H'm—yes—Pettersen—that ass——

HIALMAR.

[_Speaking more softly._] That was how we got her, you see; for father knows Pettersen a little; and when he heard about the wild duck he got him to hand her over to us.

GREGERS.

And now she thrives as well as possible in the garret there?

HIALMAR.

Yes, wonderfully well. She has got fat. You see, she has lived in there so long now that she has forgotten her natural wild life; and it all depends on _that_.

GREGERS.

You are right there, Hialmar. Be sure you never let her get a glimpse of the sky and the sea——. But I mustn’t stay any longer; I think your father is asleep.

HIALMAR.

Oh, as for that——

GREGERS.

But, by-the-bye—you said you had a room to let—a spare room?

HIALMAR.

Yes; what then? Do you know of anybody——?

GREGERS.

Can _I_ have that room?

HIALMAR.

You?

GINA.

Oh no, Mr. Werle, _you_——

GREGERS.

May I have the room? If so, I'll take possession first thing to-morrow morning.

HIALMAR.

Yes, with the greatest pleasure——

GINA.

But, Mr. Werle, I'm sure it’s not at all the sort of room for _you_.

HIALMAR.

Why, Gina! how can you say that?

GINA.

Why, because the room’s neither large enough nor light enough, and——

GREGERS.

That really doesn’t matter, Mrs. Ekdal.

HIALMAR.

I call it quite a nice room, and not at all badly furnished either.

GINA.

But remember the pair of them underneath.

GREGERS.

What pair?

GINA.

Well, there’s one as has been a tutor——

HIALMAR.

That’s Molvik—Mr. Molvik, B.A.

GINA.

And then there’s a doctor, by the name of Relling.

GREGERS.

Relling? I know him a little; he practised for a time up in Höidal.

GINA.

They’re a regular rackety pair, they are. As often as not, they’re out on the loose in the evenings; and then they come home at all hours, and they’re not always just——

GREGERS.

One soon gets used to that sort of thing. I daresay I shall be like the wild duck——

GINA.

H'm; I think you ought to sleep upon it first, anyway.

GREGERS.

You seem very unwilling to have me in the house, Mrs. Ekdal.

GINA.

Oh no! What makes you think _that_?

HIALMAR.

Well, you really behave strangely about it, Gina. [_To GREGERS._] Then I suppose you intend to remain in the town for the present?

GREGERS.

[_Putting on his overcoat._] Yes, now I intend to remain here.

HIALMAR.

And yet not at your father’s? What do you propose to do, then?

GREGERS.

Ah, if I only knew _that_, Hialmar, I shouldn’t be so badly off! But when one has the misfortune to be called Gregers—! “Gregers”—and then “Werle” after it; did you ever hear anything so hideous?

HIALMAR.

Oh, I don’t think so at all.

GREGERS.

Ugh! Bah! I feel I should like to spit upon the fellow that answers to such a name. But when a man is once for all doomed to be Gregers—Werle in this world, as I am——

HIALMAR.

[_Laughs._] Ha ha! If you weren’t Gregers Werle, what would you like to be?

GREGERS.

If I could choose, I should like best to be a clever dog.

GINA.

A dog!

HEDVIG.

[_Involuntarily._] Oh no!

GREGERS.

Yes, an amazingly clever dog; one that goes to the bottom after wild ducks when they dive and bite themselves fast in tangle and sea-weed, down among the ooze.

HIALMAR.

Upon my word now, Gregers—I don’t in the least know what you’re driving at.

GREGERS.

Oh well, you might not be much the wiser if you did. It’s understood, then, that I move in early to-morrow morning. [_To GINA._] I won’t give you any trouble; I do everything for myself. [_To HIALMAR._] We can talk about the rest to-morrow.—Good-night, Mrs. Ekdal. [_Nods to HEDVIG._] Good-night.

GINA.

Good-night, Mr. Werle.

HEDVIG.

Good-night.

HIALMAR.

[_Who has lighted a candle._] Wait a moment; I must show you a light; the stairs are sure to be dark.

[GREGERS _and_ HIALMAR _go out by the passage door._

GINA.

[_Looking straight before her, with her sewing in her lap._] Wasn’t that queer-like talk about wanting to be a dog?

HEDVIG.

Do you know, mother—I believe he meant something quite different by that.

GINA.

Why, what _should_ he mean?

HEDVIG.

Oh, I don’t know; but it seemed to me he meant something different from what he said—all the time.

GINA.

Do you think so? Yes, it was sort of queer.

HIALMAR.

[_Comes back._] The lamp was still burning. [_Puts out the candle and sets it down._] Ah, now one can get a mouthful of food at last. [_Begins to eat the bread and butter._] Well, you see, Gina—if only you keep your eyes open——

GINA.

How, keep your eyes open——?

HIALMAR.

Why, haven’t we at last had the luck to get the room let? And just think—to a person like Gregers—a good old friend.

GINA.

Well, I don’t know what to say about it.

HEDVIG.

Oh mother, you’ll see; it’ll be such fun!

HIALMAR.

You’re very strange. You were so bent upon getting the room let before; and now you don’t like it.

GINA.

Yes I do, Ekdal; if it had only been to some one else——But what do you suppose Mr. Werle will say?

HIALMAR.

Old Werle? It doesn’t concern him.

GINA.

But surely you can see that there’s something amiss between them again, or the young man wouldn’t be leaving home. You know very well those two can’t get on with each other.

HIALMAR.

Very likely not, but——

GINA.

And now Mr. Werle may fancy it’s you that has egged him on——

HIALMAR.

Let him fancy so, then! Mr. Werle has done a great deal for me; far be it from me to deny it. But that doesn’t make me everlastingly dependent upon him.

GINA.

But, my dear Ekdal, maybe grandfather’ll suffer for it. He may loose the little bit of work he gets from Gråberg.

HIALMAR.

I could almost say: so much the better! Is it not humiliating for a man like me to see his grey-haired father treated as a pariah? But now I believe the fulness of time is at hand. [_Takes a fresh piece of bread and butter._] As sure as I have a mission in life, I mean to fulfil it now!

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, father, do!

GINA.

Hush! Don’t wake him!

HIALMAR.

[_More softly._] I will fulfil it, I say. The day shall come when——And that is why I say it’s a good thing we have let the room; for that makes me more independent. The man who has a mission in life must be independent. [_By the, arm-chair, with emotion._] Poor old white-haired father! Rely on your Hialmar. He has broad shoulders—strong shoulders, at any rate. You shall yet wake up some fine day and——[_To GINA._] Do you not believe it?

GINA.

[_Rising._] Yes, of course I do; but in the meantime suppose we see about getting him to bed.

HIALMAR.

Yes, come.

[_They take hold of the old man carefully._

-----

Footnote 15:

The “sunshine” of Court favour.

ACT THIRD.

HIALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. It is morning: the daylight shines through the
large window in the slanting roof; the curtain is drawn back._

HIALMAR _is sitting at the table, busy retouching a photograph; several
others lie before him. Presently_ GINA, _wearing her hat and
cloak, enters by the passage door; she has a covered basket on her
arm._

HIALMAR.

Back already, Gina?

GINA.

Oh yes, one can’t let the grass grow under one’s feet.

[_Sets her basket on a chair, and takes off her things._

HIALMAR.

Did you look in at Gregers' room?

GINA.

Yes, that I did. It’s a rare sight, I can tell you; he’s made a pretty mess to start off with.

HIALMAR.

How so?

GINA.

He was determined to do everything for himself, he said; so he sets to work to light the stove, and what must he do but screw down the damper till the whole room is full of smoke. Ugh! There was a smell fit to——

HIALMAR.

Well, really!

GINA.

But that’s not the worst of it; for then he thinks he’ll put out the fire, and goes and empties his water-jug into the stove, and so makes the whole floor one filthy puddle.

HIALMAR.

How annoying!

GINA.

I've got the porter’s wife to clear up after him, pig that he is! But the room won’t be fit to live in till the afternoon.

HIALMAR.

What’s he doing with himself in the meantime?

GINA.

He said he was going out for a little while.

HIALMAR.

I looked in upon him too, for a moment—after you had gone.

GINA.

So I heard. You’ve asked him to lunch.

HIALMAR.

Just to a little bit of early lunch, you know. It’s his first day—we can hardly do less. You’ve got something in the house, I suppose?

GINA.

I shall have to find something or other.

HIALMAR.

And don’t cut it too fine, for I fancy Relling and Molvik are coming up too. I just happened to meet Relling on the stairs, you see; so I had to——

GINA.

Oh, are we to have those two as well?

HIALMAR.

Good Lord—a couple more or less can’t make any difference.

OLD EKDAL.

[_Opens his door and looks in._] I say, Hialmar——[_Sees GINA._] Oh!

GINA.

Do you want anything, grandfather?

EKDAL.

Oh no, it doesn’t matter. H'm!

[_Retires again._

GINA.

[_Takes up the basket._] Be sure you see that he doesn’t go out.

HIALMAR.

All right, all right. And, Gina, a little herring-salad wouldn’t be a bad idea; Relling and Molvik were out on the loose again last night.

GINA.

If only they don’t come before I'm ready for them——

HIALMAR.

No, of course they won’t; take your own time.

GINA.

Very well; and meanwhile you can be working a bit.

HIALMAR.

Well, I am working! I am working as hard as I can!

GINA.

Then you’ll have that job off your hands, you see.

[_She goes out to the kitchen with her basket._

[HIALMAR _sits for a time pencilling away at the photograph,
in an indolent and listless manner._

EKDAL.

[_Peeps in, looks round the studio, and says softly_:] Are you busy?

HIALMAR.

Yes I'm toiling at these wretched pictures——

EKDAL.

Well well, never mind,—since you’re so busy——h’m!

[_He goes out again; the door stands open._

HIALMAR.

[_Continues for some time in silence; then he lays down his brush and goes over to the door._] Are _you_ busy, father?

EKDAL.

[_In a grumbling tone, within._] If you’re busy, I'm busy too. H'm!

HIALMAR.

Oh, very well, then. _Goes to his work again._

EKDAL.

[_Presently, coming to the door again._] H'm; I say, Hialmar, I'm not so _very_ busy, you know.

HIALMAR.

I thought you were writing.

EKDAL.

Oh, devil take it! can’t Gråberg wait a day or two? After all, it’s not a matter of life and death.

HIALMAR.

No; and you’re not his slave either.

EKDAL.

And about that other business in there——

HIALMAR.

Just what I was thinking of. Do you want to go in. Shall I open the door for you?

EKDAL.

Well, it wouldn’t be a bad notion.

HIALMAR.

[_Rises._] Then we’d have _that_ off our hands.

EKDAL.

Yes, exactly. It’s got to be ready first thing to-morrow. It is to-morrow, isn’t it? H'm?

HIALMAR.

Yes, of course it’s to-morrow.

[HIALMAR _and_ EKDAL _push aside each his half of the sliding
door. The morning sun is shining in through the skylights;
some doves are flying about; others sit cooing, upon the
perches; the hens are heard clucking now and then, further
back in the garret._

HIALMAR.

There; now you can get to work, father.

EKDAL.

[_Goes in._] Aren’t you coming too?

HIALMAR.

Well really, do you know——; I almost think——[_Sees GINA at the kitchen door._] I? No; I haven’t time; I must work.—But now for our new contrivance——

[_He pulls a cord, a curtain slips down inside, the lower part
consisting of a piece of old sailcloth, the upper part of a
stretched fishing net. The floor of the garret is thus no
longer visible._

HIALMAR.

[_Goes to the table._] So! Now, perhaps I can sit in peace for a little while.

GINA.

Is he rampaging in there again?

HIALMAR.

Would you rather have had him slip down to Madam Eriksen’s. [_Seats himself._] Do you want anything? You know you said——

GINA.

I only wanted to ask if you think we can lay the table for lunch here?

HIALMAR.

Yes; we have no early appointment, I suppose?

GINA.

No, I expect no one to day except those two sweethearts that are to be taken together.

HIALMAR.

Why the deuce couldn’t they be taken together another day!

GINA.

Don’t you know, I told them to come in the afternoon, when you are having your nap.

HIALMAR.

Oh, that’s capital. Very well, let us have lunch here then.

GINA.

All right; but there’s no hurry about laying the cloth; you can have the table for a good while yet.

HIALMAR.

Do you think I am not sticking at my work? I'm at it as hard as I can!

GINA.

Then you’ll be free later on, you know.

[_Goes out into the kitchen again. Short pause._

EKDAL.

[_In the garret doorway, behind the net._] Hialmar!

HIALMAR.

Well?

EKDAL.

Afraid we shall have to move the water-trough, after all.

HIALMAR.

What else have I been saying all along?

EKDAL.

H'm—h’m—h’m.

[_Goes away from the door again._

[HIALMAR _goes on working a little; glances towards the
garret and half rises._ HEDVIG _comes in from the kitchen._

HIALMAR.

[_Sits down again hurriedly._] What do you want?

HEDVIG.

I only wanted to come in beside you, father.

HIALMAR.

[_After a pause._] What makes you go prying around like that? Perhaps you are told off to watch me?

HEDVIG.

No, no.

HIALMAR.

What is your mother doing out there?

HEDVIG.

Oh, mother’s in the middle of making the herring-salad. [_Goes to the table._] Isn’t there any little thing I could help you with, father?

HIALMAR.

Oh no. It is right that I should bear the whole burden—so long as my strength holds out. Set your mind at rest, Hedvig; if only your father keeps his health——

HEDVIG.

Oh no, father! You mustn’t talk in that horrid way.

[_She wanders about a little, stops by the doorway and looks
into the garret._

HIALMAR.

Tell me, what is he doing?

HEDVIG.

I think he’s making a new path to the water-trough.

HIALMAR.

He can never manage _that_ by himself! And here am I doomed to sit——!

HEDVIG.

[_Goes to him._] Let me take the brush, father; I _can_ do it, quite well.

HIALMAR.

Oh nonsense; you will only hurt your eyes.

HEDVIG.

Not a bit. Give me the brush.

HIALMAR.

[_Rising._] Well, it won’t take more than a minute or two.

HEDVIG.

Pooh, what harm can it do then? [_Takes the brush._] There! [_Seats herself._] I can begin upon this one.

HIALMAR.

But mind you don’t hurt your eyes! Do you hear? _I_ won’t be answerable; you do it on your own responsibility—understand that.

HEDVIG.

[_Retouching._] Yes yes, I understand.

HIALMAR.

You are quite clever at it, Hedvig. Only a minute or two, you know.

[_He slips through by the edge of the curtain into the garret._
HEDVIG _sits at her work._ HIALMAR _and_ EKDAL _are heard
disputing inside._

HIALMAR.

[_Appears behind the net._] I say, Hedvig—give me those pincers that are lying on the shelf. And the chisel. [_Turns away inside._] Now you shall see, father. Just let me show you first what I mean!

[HEDVIG _has fetched the required tools from the shelf, and
hands them to him through the net._

HIALMAR.

Ah, thanks. I didn’t come a moment too soon.

[_Goes back from the curtain again; they are heard carpentering
and talking inside._ HEDVIG _stands looking in at them. A
moment later there is a knock at the passage door; she does
not notice it._

GREGERS WERLE.

[_Bareheaded, in indoor dress, enters and slops near the door._] H'm——!

HEDVIG.

[_Turns and goes towards him._] Good morning. Please come in.

GREGERS.

Thank you. [_Looking towards the garret._] You seem to have workpeople in the house.

HEDVIG.

No, it is only father and grandfather. I'll tell them you are here.

GREGERS.

No no, don’t do that; I would rather wait a little.

[_Seats himself on the sofa._

HEDVIG.

It looks so untidy here——

[_Begins to clear away the photographs._

GREGERS.

Oh, don’t take them away. Are those prints that have to be finished off?

HEDVIG.

Yes, they are a few I was helping father with.

GREGERS.

Please don’t let me disturb you.

HEDVIG.

Oh no.

[_She gathers the things to her and sits down to work;_ GREGERS
_looks at her, meanwhile, in silence._

GREGERS.

Did the wild duck sleep well last night?

HEDVIG.

Yes, I think so, thanks.

GREGERS.

[_Turning towards the garret._] It looks quite different by day from what it did last night in the moonlight.

HEDVIG.

Yes, it changes ever so much. It looks different in the morning and in the afternoon; and it’s different on rainy days from what it is in fine weather.

GREGERS.

Have you noticed that?

HEDVIG.

Yes, how could I help it?

GREGERS.

Are you, too, fond of being in there with the wild duck?

HEDVIG.

Yes, when I can manage it——

GREGERS.

But I suppose you haven’t much spare time; you go to school, no doubt.

HEDVIG.

No, not now; father is afraid of my hurting my eyes.

GREGERS.

Oh; then he reads with you himself?

HEDVIG.

Father has promised to read with me; but he has never had time yet.

GREGERS.

Then is there nobody else to give you a little help?

HEDVIG.

Yes, there is Mr. Molvik; but he is not always exactly—quite——

GREGERS.

Sober?

HEDVIG.

Yes, I suppose that’s it!

GREGERS.

Why, then you must have any amount of time on your hands. And in there I suppose it is a sort of world by itself?

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, quite. And there are such lots of wonderful things.

GREGERS.

Indeed?

HEDVIG.

Yes, there are big cupboards full of books; and a great many of the books have pictures in them.

GREGERS.

Aha!

HEDVIG.

And there’s an old bureau with drawers and flaps, and a big clock with figures that go out and in. But the clock isn’t going now.

GREGERS.

So time has come to a standstill in there—in the wild duck’s domain.

HEDVIG.

Yes. And then there’s an old paint-box and things of that sort; and all the books.

GREGERS.

And you read the books, I suppose?

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, when I get the chance. Most of them are English though, and I don’t understand English. But then I look at the pictures.—There is one great big book called “Harrison’s History of London.”[16] It must be a hundred years old; and there are such heaps of pictures in it. At the beginning there is Death with an hour-glass and a woman. I think that is horrid. But then there are all the other pictures of churches, and castles, and streets, and great ships sailing on the sea.

GREGERS.

But tell me, where did all those wonderful things come from?

HEDVIG.

Oh, an old sea captain once lived here, and he brought them home with him. They used to call him “The Flying Dutchman.” That was curious, because he wasn’t a Dutchman at all.

GREGERS.

Was he not?

HEDVIG.

No. But at last he was drowned at sea; and so he left all those things behind him.

GREGERS.

Tell me now—when you are sitting in there looking at the pictures, don’t you wish you could travel and see the real world for yourself?

HEDVIG.

Oh no! I mean always to stay at home and help father and mother.

GREGERS.

To retouch photographs?

HEDVIG.

No, not only that. I should love above everything to learn to engrave pictures like those in the English books.

GREGERS.

H'm. What does your father say to that?

HEDVIG.

I don’t think father likes it; father is strange about such things. Only think, he talks of my learning basket-making, and straw-plaiting! But I don’t think _that_ would be much good.

GREGERS.

Oh no, I don’t think so either.

HEDVIG.

But father was right in saying that if I had learnt basket-making I could have made the new basket for the wild duck.

GREGERS.

So you could; and it was you that ought to have done it, wasn’t it?

HEDVIG.

Yes, for it’s _my_ wild duck.

GREGERS.

Of course it is.

HEDVIG.

Yes, it belongs to _me_. But I lend it to father and grandfather as often as they please.

GREGERS.

Indeed? What do they do with it?

HEDVIG.

Oh, they look after it, and build places for it, and so on.

GREGERS.

I see; for no doubt the wild duck is by far the most distinguished inhabitant of the garret?

HEDVIG.

Yes, indeed she is; for she is a _real_ wild fowl, you know. And then she is so much to be pitied; she has no one to care for, poor thing.

GREGERS.

She has no family, as the rabbits have——

HEDVIG.

No. The hens too, many of them, were chickens together; but she has been taken right away from all her friends. And then there is so much that is strange about the wild duck. Nobody knows her, and nobody knows where she came from either.

GREGERS.

And she has been down in the depths of the sea.

HEDVIG.

[_With a quick glance at him, represses a smile and asks_:] Why do you say “the depths of the sea”?

GREGERS.

What else should I say?

HEDVIG.

You could say “the bottom of the sea.”[17]

GREGERS.

Oh, mayn’t I just as well say the depths of the sea?

HEDVIG.

Yes; but it sounds so strange to me when other people speak of the depths of the sea.

GREGERS.

Why so? Tell me why?

HEDVIG.

No, I won’t; it’s so stupid.

GREGERS.

Oh no, I am sure it’s not. Do tell me why you smiled.

HEDVIG.

Well, this is the reason: whenever I come to realise suddenly—in a flash—what is in there, it always seems to me that the whole room and everything in it should be called “the depths of the sea.”—But that is so stupid.

GREGERS.

You mustn’t say that.

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, for you know it is only a garret.

GREGERS.

[_Looks fixedly at her._] Are you so sure of that?

HEDVIG.

[_Astonished._] That it’s a garret?

GREGERS.

Are you quite certain of it?

[HEDVIG _is silent, and looks at him open-mouthed._ GINA _comes
in from the kitchen with the table things._

GREGERS.

[_Rising._] I have come in upon you too early.

GINA.

Oh, you must be somewhere; and we’re nearly ready now, anyway. Clear the table, Hedvig.

[HEDVIG _clears away her things; she and_ GINA _lay the cloth
during what follows._ GREGERS _seats himself in the
arm-chair, and turns over an album._

GREGERS.

I hear you can retouch, Mrs. Ekdal.

GINA.

[_With a side glance._] Yes, I can.

GREGERS.

That was exceedingly lucky.

GINA.

How—lucky?

GREGERS.

Since Ekdal took to photography, I mean.

HEDVIG.

Mother can take photographs too.

GINA.

Oh, yes; I was bound to learn _that_.

GREGERS.

So it is really you that carry on the business, I suppose?

GINA.

Yes, when Ekdal hasn’t time himself——

GREGERS.

He is a great deal taken up with his old father, I daresay.

GINA.

Yes; and then you can’t expect a man like Ekdal to do nothing but take car-de-visits of Dick, Tom and Harry.

GREGERS.

I quite agree with you; but having once gone in for the thing——

GINA.

You can surely understand, Mr. Werle, that Ekdal’s not like one of your common photographers.

GREGERS.

Of course not; but still——

[_A shot fired within the garret._

GREGERS.

[_Starting up._] What’s that?

GINA.

Ugh! now they’re firing again!

GREGERS.

Have they firearms in there?

HEDVIG.

They are out shooting.

GREGERS.

What! [_At the door of the garret._] Are you shooting, Hialmar?

HIALMAR.

[_Inside the net._] Are you there? I didn’t know; I was so taken up——[_To HEDVIG._] Why did you not let us know?

[_Comes into the studio._

GREGERS.

Do you go shooting in the garret?

HIALMAR.

[_Showing a double-barrelled pistol._] Oh, only with this thing.

GINA.

Yes, you and grandfather will do yourselves a mischief some day with that there pigstol.

HIALMAR.

[_With irritation._] I believe I have told you that this kind of firearm is called a _pistol_.

GINA.

Oh, that doesn’t make it much better, that I can see.

GREGERS.

So you have become a sportsman too, Hialmar.

HIALMAR.

Only a little rabbit-shooting now and then. Mostly to please father, you understand.

GINA.

Men are strange beings; they must always have something to pervert theirselves with.

HIALMAR.

[_Snappishly._] Just so; we must always have something to _divert_ ourselves with.

GINA.

Yes, that’s just what I say.

HIALMAR.

H'm. [_To GREGERS._] You see the garret is fortunately so situated that no one can hear us shooting. [_Lays the pistol on the top shelf of the bookcase._] Don’t touch the pistol, Hedvig! One of the barrels is loaded; remember that.

GREGERS.

[_Looking through the net._] You have a fowling-piece too, I see.

HIALMAR.

That is father’s old gun. It’s of no use now; something has gone wrong with the lock. But it’s fun to have it all the same; for we can take it to pieces now and then, and clean and grease it, and screw it together again.—Of course, it’s mostly father that fiddle-faddles with all that sort of thing.

HEDVIG.

[_Beside GREGERS._] Now you can see the wild duck properly.

GREGERS.

I was just looking at her. One of her wings seems to me to droop a bit.

HEDVIG.

Well, no wonder; her wing was broken, you know.

GREGERS.

And she trails one foot a little. Isn’t that so?

HIALMAR.

Perhaps a very little bit.

HEDVIG.

Yes, it was by that foot the dog took hold of her.

HIALMAR.

But otherwise she hasn’t the least thing the matter with her; and that is simply marvellous for a creature that has a charge of shot in her body, and has been between a dog’s teeth——

GREGERS.

[_With a glance at_ HEDVIG]——and that has lain in the depths of the sea—so long.

HEDVIG.

[_Smiling._] Yes.

GINA.

[_Laying the table._] That blessëd wild duck! What a lot of fuss you do make over her.

HIALMAR.

H'm;—will lunch soon be ready?

GINA.

Yes, directly. Hedvig, you must come and help me now.

[GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go out into the kitchen._

HIALMAR.

[_In a low voice._] I think you had better not stand there looking in at father; he doesn’t like it. [GREGERS _moves away from the garret door._] Besides I may as well shut up before the others come. [_Claps his hands to drive the fowls back._] Shh—shh, in with you! [_Draws up the curtain and pulls the doors together._] All the contrivances are my own invention. It’s really quite amusing to have things of this sort to potter with, and to put to rights when they get out of order. And it’s absolutely necessary, too; for Gina objects to having rabbits and fowls in the studio.

GREGERS.

To be sure; and I suppose the studio is your wife’s special department?

HIALMAR.

As a rule, I leave the everyday details of business to her; for then I can take refuge in the parlour and give my mind to more important things.

GREGERS.

What things may they be, Hialmar?

HIALMAR.

I wonder you have not asked that question sooner. But perhaps you haven’t heard of the invention?

GREGERS.

The invention? No.

HIALMAR.

Really? Have you not? Oh no, out there in the wilds——

GREGERS.

So you have invented something, have you?

HIALMAR.

It is not quite completed yet; but I am working at it. You can easily 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.