Chapter VII: Part 7

It will never be sound. Your conscience has been sickly from childhood. That is a legacy from your mother, Gregers—the only one she left you.

GREGERS.

[_With a scornful half-smile._] Have you not yet forgiven her for the mistake you made in supposing she would bring you a fortune?

WERLE.

Don’t let us wander from the point.—Then you hold to your purpose of setting young Ekdal upon what you imagine to be the right scent?

GREGERS.

Yes, that is my fixed resolve.

WERLE.

Well, in that case I might have spared myself this visit; for of course it is useless to ask whether you will return home with me?

GREGERS.

Quite useless.

WERLE.

And I suppose you won’t enter the firm either?

GREGERS.

No.

WERLE.

Very good. But as I am thinking of marrying again, your share in the property will fall to you at once.[18]

GREGERS.

[_Quickly._] No, I do not want that.

WERLE.

You don’t want it?

GREGERS.

No, I dare not take it, for conscience' sake.

WERLE.

[_After a pause._] Are you going up to the works again?

GREGERS.

No; I consider myself released from your service.

WERLE.

But what are you going to do?

GREGERS.

Only to fulfil my mission; nothing more.

WERLE.

Well, but afterwards? What are you going to live upon?

GREGERS.

I have laid by a little out of my salary.

WERLE.

How long will _that_ last?

GREGERS.

I think it will last my time.

WERLE.

What do you mean?

GREGERS.

I shall answer no more questions.

WERLE.

Good-bye then, Gregers.

GREGERS.

Good-bye.

WERLE _goes._

HIALMAR.

[_Peeping in._] He’s gone, isn’t he?

GREGERS.

Yes.

HIALMAR _and_ RELLING _enter; also_ GINA _and_ HEDVIG _from the
kitchen._

RELLING.

That luncheon-party was a failure.

GREGERS.

Put on your coat, Hialmar; I want you to come for a long walk with me.

HIALMAR.

With pleasure. What was it your father wanted? Had it anything to do with me?

GREGERS.

Come along. We must have a talk. I'll go and put on my overcoat.

[_Goes out by the passage door._

GINA.

You shouldn’t go out with him, Ekdal.

RELLING.

No, don’t you do it. Stay where you are.

HIALMAR.

[_Gets his hat and overcoat._] Oh, nonsense! When a friend of my youth feels impelled to open his mind to me in private——

RELLING.

But devil take it—don’t you see that the fellow’s mad, cracked, demented!

GINA.

There, what did I tell you! His mother before him had crazy fits like that sometimes.

HIALMAR.

The more need for a friend’s watchful eye. [_To GINA._] Be sure you have dinner ready in good time. Good-bye for the present.

[_Goes out by the passage door._

RELLING.

It’s a thousand pities the fellow didn’t go to hell through one of the Höidal mines.

GINA.

Good Lord! what makes you say that?

RELLING.

[_Muttering._] Oh, I have my own reasons.

GINA.

Do you think young Werle is really mad?

RELLING.

No, worse luck; he’s no madder than most other people. But one disease he has certainly got in his system.

GINA.

What is it that’s the matter with him?

RELLING.

Well, I'll tell you, Mrs. Ekdal. He is suffering from an acute attack of integrity.

GINA.

Integrity?

HEDVIG.

Is that a kind of disease?

RELLING.

Yes, it’s a national disease; but it only appears sporadically. [_Nods to GINA._] Thanks for your hospitality.

[_He goes out by the passage door._

GINA.

[_Moving restlessly to and fro._] Ugh, that Gregers Werle—he was always a wretched creature.

HEDVIG.

[_Standing by the table, and looking searchingly at her._] I think all this is very strange.

-----

Footnote 16:

_A New and Universal History of the Cities of London and Westminster_,
by Walter Harrison. London, 1775, folio.

Footnote 17:

Gregers here uses the old-fashioned expression “havsens bund,” while
Hedvig would have him use the more commonplace “havets bund” or
“havbunden.”

Footnote 18:

By Norwegian law, before a widower can marry again, a certain
proportion of his property must be settled on his children by his
former marriage.

ACT FOURTH.

HIALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. A photograph has just been taken; a camera with
the cloth over it, a pedestal, two chairs, a folding table, etc.,
are standing out in the room. Afternoon light; the sun is going
down; a little later it begins to grow dusk._

GINA _stands in the passage doorway, with a little box and a wet glass
plate in her hand, and is speaking to somebody outside._

GINA.

Yes, certainly. When I make a promise I keep it. The first dozen shall be ready on Monday. Good afternoon.

[_Some one is heard going downstairs._ GINA _shuts the door,
slips the plate into the box, and puts it into the covered
camera._

HEDVIG.

[_Comes in from the kitchen._] Are they gone?

GINA.

[_Tidying up._] Yes, thank goodness, I've got rid of them at last.

HEDVIG.

But can you imagine why father hasn’t come home yet?

GINA.

Are you sure he’s not down in Relling’s room?

HEDVIG.

No, he’s not; I ran down the kitchen stair just now and asked.

GINA.

And his dinner standing and getting cold, too.

HEDVIG.

Yes, I can’t understand it. Father’s always so careful to be home to dinner!

GINA.

Oh, he’ll be here directly, you’ll see.

HEDVIG.

I wish he would come; everything seems so queer to-day.

GINA.

[_Calls out._] There he is!

HIALMAR EKDAL _comes in at the passage door._

HEDVIG.

[_Going to him._] Father! Oh what a time we’ve been waiting for you!

GINA.

[_Glancing sidelong at him._] You’ve been out a long time, Ekdal.

HIALMAR.

[_Without looking at her._] Rather long, yes.

[_He takes off his overcoat;_ GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go to help him;
he motions them away._

GINA.

Perhaps you’ve had dinner with Werle?

HIALMAR.

[_Hanging up his coat._] No.

GINA.

[_Going towards the kitchen door._] Then I'll bring some in for you.

HIALMAR.

No; let the dinner alone. I want nothing to eat.

HEDVIG.

[_Going nearer to him._] Are you not well, father?

HIALMAR.

Well? Oh yes, well enough. We have had a tiring walk, Gregers and I.

GINA.

You didn’t ought to have gone so far, Ekdal; you’re not used to it.

HIALMAR.

H'm; there’s many a thing a man must get used to in this world. [_Wanders about the room._] Has any one been here whilst I was out?

GINA.

Nobody but the two sweethearts.

HIALMAR.

No new orders?

GINA.

No, not to-day.

HEDVIG.

There will be some to-morrow, father, you’ll see.

HIALMAR.

I hope there will; for to-morrow I am going to set to work in real earnest.

HEDVIG.

To-morrow! Don’t you remember what day it is to-morrow?

HIALMAR.

Oh yes, by-the-bye——. Well, the day after, then. Henceforth I mean to do everything myself; I shall take all the work into my own hands.

GINA.

Why, what can be the good of that, Ekdal? It’ll only make your life a burden to you. I can manage the photography all right; and you can go on working at your invention.

HEDVIG.

And think of the wild duck, father,—and all the hens and rabbits and——!

HIALMAR.

Don’t talk to me of all that trash! From to-morrow I will never set foot in the garret again.

HEDVIG.

Oh but, father, you promised that we should have a little party——

HIALMAR.

H'm, true. Well then, from the day after tomorrow. I should almost like to wring that cursëd wild duck’s neck!

HEDVIG.

[_Shrieks._] The wild duck!

GINA.

Well I never!

HEDVIG.

[_Shaking him._] Oh no, father; you know it’s _my_ wild duck!

HIALMAR.

That is why I don’t do it. I haven’t the heart to—for your sake, Hedvig. But in my inmost soul I feel that I ought to do it. I ought not to tolerate under my roof a creature that has been through _those_ hands.

GINA.

Why, good gracious, even if grandfather did get it from that poor creature, Pettersen——

HIALMAR.

[_Wandering about._] There are certain claims—what shall I call them?—let me say claims of the ideal—certain obligations, which a man cannot disregard without injury to his soul.

HEDVIG.

[_Going after him._] But think of the wild duck,—the poor wild duck!

HIALMAR.

[_Stops._] I tell you I will spare it—for your sake. Not a hair of its head shall be—I mean, it shall be spared. There are greater problems than that to be dealt with. But you should go out a little now, Hedvig, as usual; it is getting dusk enough for you now.

HEDVIG.

No? I don’t care about going out now.

HIALMAR.

Yes do; it seems to me your eyes are blinking a great deal; all these vapours in here are bad for you. The air is heavy under this roof.

HEDVIG.

Very well then, I'll run down the kitchen stair and go for a little walk. My cloak and hat?—oh, they’re in my own room. Father—be sure you don’t do the wild duck any harm whilst I'm out.

HIALMAR.

Not a feather of its head shall be touched. [_Draws her to him._] You and I, Hedvig—we two——! Well, go along.

[HEDVIG _nods to her parents and goes out through the kitchen._

HIALMAR.

[_Walks about without looking up._] Gina.

GINA.

Yes?

HIALMAR.

From to-morrow—or, say, from the day after to-morrow—I should like to keep the household account-book myself.

GINA.

Do you want to keep the accounts too, now?

HIALMAR.

Yes; or to check the receipts at any rate.

GINA.

Lord help us! _that’s_ soon done.

HIALMAR.

One would hardly think so; at any rate you seem to make the money go a very long way. [_Stops and looks at her._] How do you manage it?

GINA.

It’s because me and Hedvig, we need so little.

HIALMAR.

Is it the case that father is very liberally paid for the copying he does for Mr. Werle?

GINA.

I don’t know as he gets anything out of the way. I don’t know the rates for that sort of work.

HIALMAR.

Well, what does he get, about? Let me hear!

GINA.

Oh, it varies; I daresay it’ll come to about as much as he costs us, with a little pocket-money over.

HIALMAR.

As much as he costs us! And you have never told me this before!

GINA.

No, how could I tell you? It pleased you so much to think he got everything from you.

HIALMAR.

And he gets it from Mr. Werle.

GINA.

Oh well, he has plenty and to spare, he has.

HIALMAR.

Light the lamp for me, please!

GINA.

[_Lighting the lamp._] And of course we don’t know as it’s Mr. Werle himself; it may be Gråberg——

HIALMAR.

Why attempt such an evasion?

GINA.

I don’t know; I only thought——

HIALMAR.

H'm!

GINA.

It wasn’t me that got grandfather that copying. It was Bertha, when she used to come about us.

HIALMAR.

It seems to me your voice is trembling.

GINA.

[_Putting the lamp-shade on._] Is it?

HIALMAR.

And your hands are shaking, are they not?

GINA.

[_Firmly._] Come right out with it, Ekdal. What has he been saying about me?

HIALMAR.

Is it true—_can_ it be true that—that there was an—an understanding between you and Mr. Werle, while you were in service there?

GINA.

That’s not true. Not at that time. Mr. Werle did come after me, that’s a fact. And his wife thought there was something in it, and then she made such a hocus-pocus and hurly-burly, and she hustled me and bustled me about so, that I left her service.

HIALMAR.

But afterwards, then?

GINA.

Well, then I went home. And mother—well, she wasn’t the woman you took her for, Ekdal; she kept on worrying and worrying at me about one thing and another—for Mr. Werle was a widower by that time.

HIALMAR.

Well, and then?

GINA.

I suppose you’ve got to know it. He gave me no peace until he’d had his way.

HIALMAR.

[_Striking his hands together._] And this is the mother of my child! How could you hide this from me?

GINA.

Yes, it was wrong of me; I ought certainly to have told you long ago.

HIALMAR.

You should have told me at the very first;—then I should have known the sort of woman you were.

GINA.

But would you have married me all the same?

HIALMAR.

How can you dream that I would?

GINA.

That’s just why I didn’t dare tell you anything, then. For I'd come to care for you so much, you see; and I couldn’t go and make myself utterly miserable——

HIALMAR.

[_Walks about._] And this is my Hedvig’s mother. And to know that all I see before me—[_Kicks at a chair._]—all that I call my home—I owe to a favoured predecessor! Oh that scoundrel Werle!

GINA.

Do you repent of the fourteen—the fifteen years as we’ve lived together?

HIALMAR.

[_Placing himself in front of her._] Have you not every day, every hour, repented of the spider’s-web of deceit you have spun around me? Answer me that! How could you help writhing with penitence and remorse?

GINA.

Oh, my dear Ekdal, I've had all I could do to look after the house and get through the day’s work——

HIALMAR.

Then you never think of reviewing your past?

GINA.

No; Heaven knows I'd almost forgotten those old stories.

HIALMAR.

Oh, this dull, callous contentment! To me there is something revolting about it. Think of it—never so much as a twinge of remorse!

GINA.

But tell me, Ekdal—what would have become of you if you hadn’t had a wife like me?

HIALMAR.

Like you——!

GINA.

Yes; for you know I've always been a bit more practical and wide-awake than you. Of course I'm a year or two older.

HIALMAR.

What would have become of me!

GINA.

You’d got into all sorts of bad ways when first you met me; that you can’t deny.

HIALMAR.

“Bad ways” do you call them? Little do you know what a man goes through when he is in grief and despair—especially a man of my fiery temperament.

GINA.

Well, well, that may be so. And I've no reason to crow over you, neither; for you turned a moral of a husband, that you did, as soon as ever you had a house and home of your own.—And now we’d got everything so nice and cosy about us; and me and Hedvig was just thinking we’d soon be able to let ourselves go a bit, in the way of both food and clothes.

HIALMAR.

In the swamp of deceit, yes.

GINA.

I wish to goodness that detestable being had never set his foot inside our doors!

HIALMAR.

And I, too, thought my home such a pleasant one. That was a delusion. Where shall I now find the elasticity of spirit to bring my invention into the world of reality? Perhaps it will die with me; and then it will be your past, Gina, that will have killed it.

GINA.

[_Nearly crying._] You mustn’t say such things, Ekdal. _Me_, that has only wanted to do the best I could for you, all my days!

HIALMAR.

I ask you, what becomes of the breadwinner’s dream? When I used to lie in there on the sofa and brood over my invention, I had a clear enough presentiment that it would sap my vitality to the last drop. I felt even then that the day when I held the patent in my hand—that day—would bring my—release. And then it was my dream that you should live on after me, the dead inventor’s well-to-do widow.

GINA.

[_Drying her tears._] No, you mustn’t talk like that, Ekdal. May the Lord never let me see the day I am left a widow!

HIALMAR.

Oh, the whole dream has vanished. It is all over now. All over!

GREGERS WERLE _opens the passage door cautiously and looks in._

GREGERS.

May I come in?

HIALMAR.

Yes, come in.

GREGERS.

[_Comes forward, his face beaming with satisfaction, and holds out both his hands to them._] Well, dear friends——! [_Looks from one to the other, and whispers to HIALMAR._] Have you not done it yet?

HIALMAR.

[_Aloud._] It is done.

GREGERS.

It is?

HIALMAR.

I have passed through the bitterest moments of my life.

GREGERS.

But also, I trust, the most ennobling.

HIALMAR.

Well, at any rate, we have got through it for the present.

GINA.

God forgive you, Mr. Werle.

GREGERS.

[_In great surprise._] But I don’t understand this.

HIALMAR.

What don’t you understand?

GREGERS.

After so great a crisis—a crisis that is to be the starting-point of an entirely new life—of a communion founded on truth, and free from all taint of deception——

HIALMAR.

Yes yes, I know; I know that quite well.

GREGERS.

I confidently expected, when I entered the room, to find the light of transfiguration shining upon me from both husband and wife. And now I see nothing but dulness, oppression, gloom——

GINA.

Oh, is that it? _Takes off the lamp-shade._

GREGERS.

You will not understand me, Mrs. Ekdal. Ah well, _you_, I suppose, need time to——. But you, Hialmar? Surely you feel a new consecration after the great crisis.

HIALMAR.

Yes, of course I do. That is—in a sort of way.

GREGERS.

For surely nothing in the world can compare with the joy of forgiving one who has erred, and raising her up to oneself in love.

HIALMAR.

Do you think a man can so easily throw off the effects of the bitter cup I have drained?

GREGERS.

No, not a _common_ man, perhaps. But a man like _you_——!

HIALMAR.

Good God! I know that well enough. But you must keep me up to it, Gregers. It takes time, you know.

GREGERS.

You have _much_ of the wild duck in you, Hialmar.

RELLING _has come in at the passage door._

RELLING.

Oho! is the wild duck to the fore again?

HIALMAR.

Yes; Mr. Werle’s wing-broken victim.

RELLING.

Mr. Werle’s——? So it’s _him_ you are talking about?

HIALMAR.

Him and—ourselves.

RELLING.

[_In an undertone to GREGERS._] May the devil fly away with you!

HIALMAR.

What is that you are saying?

RELLING.

Only uttering a heartfelt wish that this quack-salver would take himself off. If he stays here, he is quite equal to making an utter mess of life, for both of you.

GREGERS.

These two will not make a mess of life, Mr. Relling. Of course I won’t speak of Hialmar—him we know. But she, too, in her innermost heart, has certainly something loyal and sincere——

GINA.

[_Almost crying._] You might have let me alone for what I was, then.

RELLING.

[_To GREGERS._] Is it rude to ask what you really want in this house?

GREGERS.

To lay the foundations of a true marriage.

RELLING.

So you don’t think Ekdal’s marriage is good enough as it is?

GREGERS.

No doubt it is as good a marriage as most others, worse luck. But a _true_ marriage it has yet to become.

HIALMAR.

You have never had eyes for the claims of the ideal, Relling.

RELLING.

Rubbish, my boy!—But excuse me, Mr. Werle: how many—in round numbers—how many true marriages have you seen in the course of your life?

GREGERS.

Scarcely a single one.

RELLING.

Nor I either.

GREGERS.

But I have seen innumerable marriages of the opposite kind. And it has been my fate to see at close quarters what ruin such a marriage can work in two human souls.

HIALMAR.

A man’s whole moral basis may give away beneath his feet; _that_ is the terrible part of it.

RELLING.

Well, I can’t say I've ever been exactly married, so I don’t pretend to speak with authority. But this I know, that the _child_ enters into the marriage problem. And you must leave the child in peace.

HIALMAR.

Oh—Hedvig! my poor Hedvig!

RELLING.

Yes, you must be good enough to keep Hedvig outside of all this. You two are grown-up people; you are free, in God’s name, to make what mess and muddle you please of your life. But you must deal cautiously with Hedvig, I tell you; else you may do her a great injury.

HIALMAR.

An injury!

RELLING.

Yes, or she may do herself an injury—and perhaps others too.

GINA.

How can you know that, Relling?

HIALMAR.

Her sight is in no immediate danger, is it?

RELLING.

I am not talking about her sight. Hedvig is at a critical age. She may be getting all sorts of mischief into her head.

GINA.

That’s true—I've noticed it already! She’s taken to carrying on with the fire, out in the kitchen. She calls it playing at house-on-fire. I'm often scared for fear she really sets fire to the house.

RELLING.

You see; I thought as much.

GREGERS.

[_To RELLING._] But how do you account for that?

RELLING.

[_Sullenly._] Her constitution’s changing, sir.

HIALMAR.

So long as the child has _me_——! So long as _I_ am above ground——!

_A knock at the door._

GINA.

Hush, Ekdal; there’s some one in the passage. [_Calls out._] Come in!

[MRS. SÖRBY, _in walking dress, comes in._

MRS. SÖRBY.

Good evening.

GINA.

[_Going towards her_]. Is it really you, Bertha?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Yes, of course it is. But I'm disturbing you, I'm afraid?

HIALMAR.

No, not at all; an emissary from _that_ house——

MRS. SÖRBY.

[_To GINA._] To tell the truth, I hoped your men-folk would be out at this time. I just ran up to have a little chat with you, and to say good-bye.

GINA.

Good-bye? Are you going away, then?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Yes, to-morrow morning,—up to Höidal. Mr. Werle started this afternoon. [_Lightly to GREGERS._] He asked me to say good-bye for him.

GINA.

Only fancy——!

HIALMAR.

So Mr. Werle has gone? And now you are going after him?

MRS. SÖRBY

Yes, what do you say to _that_, Ekdal?

HIALMAR.

I say: beware!

GREGERS.

I must explain the situation. My father and Mrs. Sörby are going to be married.

HIALMAR.

Going to be married!

GINA.

Oh Bertha! So it’s come to that at last!

RELLING.

[_His voice quivering a little._] This is surely not true?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Yes, my dear Relling, it’s true enough.

RELLING.

You are going to marry again?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Yes, it looks like it. Werle has got a special licence, and we are going to be married quite quietly, up at the works.

GREGERS.

Then I must wish you all happiness, like a dutiful stepson.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Thank you very much—if you mean what you say. I certainly hope it will lead to happiness, both for Werle and for me.

RELLING.

You have every reason to hope that. Mr. Werle never gets drunk—so far as I know; and I don’t suppose he’s in the habit of thrashing his wives, like the late lamented horse-doctor.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Come now, let Sörby rest in peace. He had his good points too.

RELLING.

Mr. Werle has better ones, I have no doubt.

MRS. SÖRBY.

He hasn’t frittered away all that was good in him, at any rate. The man who does that must take the consequences.

RELLING.

I shall go out with Molvik this evening.

MRS. SÖRBY.

You musn’t do that, Relling. Don’t do it—for my sake.

RELLING.

There’s nothing else for it. [_To HIALMAR._] If you’re going with us, come along.

GINA.

No, thank you. Ekdal doesn’t go in for _that_ sort of dissertation.

HIALMAR.

[_Half aloud, in vexation._] Oh, do hold your tongue!

RELLING.

Good-bye, Mrs.—Werle.

[_Goes out through the passage door._

GREGERS.

[_To MRS. SÖRBY._] You seem to know Dr. Relling pretty intimately.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Yes, we have known each other for many years. At one time it seemed as if things might have gone further between us.

GREGERS.

It was surely lucky for you that they did not.

MRS. SÖRBY.

You may well say that. But I have always been wary of acting on impulse. A woman can’t afford absolutely to throw herself away.

GREGERS.

Are you not in the least afraid that I may let my father know about this old friendship?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Why, of course I have told him all about it myself.

GREGERS.

Indeed?

MRS. SÖRBY.

Your father knows every single thing that can, with any truth, be said about me. I have told him all; it was the first thing I did when I saw what was in his mind.

GREGERS.

Then you have been franker than most people, I think.

MRS. SÖRBY.

I have always been frank. We women find that the best policy.

HIALMAR.

What do you say to that, Gina?

GINA.

Oh, we’re not all alike, us women aren’t. Some are made one way, some another.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Well, for my part, Gina, I believe it’s wisest to do as I've done. And Werle has no secrets either, on his side. That’s really the great bond between us, you see. Now he can talk to me as openly as a child. He has never had the chance to do that before. Fancy a man like him, full of health and vigour, passing his whole youth and the best years of his life in listening to nothing but penitential sermons! And very often the sermons had for their text the most imaginary offences—at least so I understand.

GINA.

That’s true enough.

GREGERS.

If you ladies are going to follow up this topic, I had better withdraw.

MRS. SÖRBY.

You can stay so far as that’s concerned. I shan’t say a word more. But I wanted you to know that I had done nothing secretly or in an underhand way. I may seem to have come in for a great piece of luck; and so I have, in a sense. But after all, I don’t think I am getting any more than I am giving. I shall stand by him always, and I can tend and care for him as no one else can, now that he is getting helpless.

HIALMAR.

Getting helpless?

GREGERS.

[_To MRS. SÖRBY._] Hush, don’t speak of that here.

MRS. SÖRBY.

There is no disguising it any longer, however much he would like to. He is going blind.

HIALMAR.

[_Starts._] Going blind? That’s strange. He too going blind!

GINA.

Lots of people do.

MRS. SÖRBY.

And you can imagine what _that_ means to a business man. Well, I shall try as well as I can to make my eyes take the place of his. But I musn’t stay any longer; I have such heaps of things to do.—Oh, by-the-bye, Ekdal, I was to tell you that if there is anything Werle can do for you, you must just apply to Gråberg.

GREGERS.

That offer I am sure Hialmar Ekdal will decline with thanks.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Indeed? I don’t think he used to be so——

GINA.

No, Bertha, Ekdal doesn’t need anything from Mr. Werle now.

HIALMAR.

[_Slowly, and with emphasis._] Will you present my compliments to your future husband, and say that I intend very shortly to call upon Mr. Gråberg——

GREGERS.

What! You don’t really mean that?

HIALMAR.

To call upon Mr. Gråberg, I say, and obtain an account of the sum I owe his principal. I will pay that debt of honour—ha ha ha! a debt of honour, let us call it! In any case, I will pay the whole, with five per cent. interest.

GINA.

But, my dear Ekdal, God knows we haven’t got the money to do it.

HIALMAR.

Be good enough to tell your future husband that I am working assiduously at my invention. Please tell him that what sustains me in this laborious task is the wish to free myself from a torturing burden of debt. That is my reason for proceeding with the invention. The entire profits shall be devoted to releasing me from my pecuniary obligations to your future husband.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Something has happened here.

HIALMAR.

Yes, you are right.

MRS. SÖRBY.

Well, good-bye. I had something else to speak to you about, Gina; but it must keep till another time. Good-bye.

[HIALMAR _and_ GREGERS _bow silently._ GINA _follows_ MRS. SÖRBY
_to the door._

HIALMAR.

Not beyond the threshold, Gina!

[MRS. SÖRBY _goes;_ GINA _shuts the door after her._

HIALMAR.

There now, Gregers; I have got that burden of debt off my mind.

GREGERS.

You soon will, at all events.

HIALMAR.

I think my attitude may be called correct.

GREGERS.

You are the man I have always taken you for.

HIALMAR.

In certain cases, it is impossible to disregard the claim of the ideal. Yet, as the breadwinner of a family, I cannot but writhe and groan under it. I can tell you it is no joke for a man without capital to attempt the repayment of a long-standing obligation, over which, so to speak, the dust of oblivion had gathered. But it cannot be helped: the Man in me demands his rights.

GREGERS.

[_Laying his hand on HIALMAR’S shoulder._] My dear Hialmar—was it not a good thing I came?

HIALMAR.

Yes.

GREGERS.

Are you not glad to have had your true position made clear to you?

HIALMAR.

[_Somewhat impatiently._] Yes, of course I am. But there is one thing that is revolting to my sense of justice.

GREGERS.

And what is that?

HIALMAR.

It is that—but I don’t know whether I ought to express myself so unreservedly about your father.

GREGERS.

Say what you please, so far as I am concerned.

HIALMAR.

Well then, is it not exasperating to think that it is not I, but he, who will realise the true marriage?

GREGERS.

How can you say such a thing?

HIALMAR.

Because it is clearly the case. Isn’t the marriage between your father and Mrs. Sörby founded upon complete confidence, upon entire and unreserved candour on both sides? They hide nothing from each other, they keep no secrets in the background; their relation is based, if I may put it so, on mutual confession and absolution.

GREGERS.

Well, what then?

HIALMAR.

Well, is not that the whole thing? Did you not yourself say that this was precisely the difficulty that had to be overcome in order to found a true marriage?

GREGERS.

But this is a totally different matter, Hialmar. You surely don’t compare either yourself or your wife with those two——? Oh, you understand me well enough.

HIALMAR.

Say what you like, there is something in all this that hurts and offends my sense of justice. It really looks as if there were no just providence to rule the world.

GINA.

Oh no, Ekdal; for God’s sake don’t say such things.

GREGERS.

H'm; don’t let us get upon those questions.

HIALMAR.

And yet, after all, I cannot but recognise the guiding finger of fate. He is going blind.

GINA.

Oh, you can’t be sure of that.

HIALMAR.

There is no doubt about it. At all events there ought not to be; for in that very fact lies the righteous retribution. He has hoodwinked a confiding fellow creature in days gone by——

GREGERS.

I fear he has hoodwinked many.

HIALMAR.

And now comes inexorable, mysterious Fate, and demands Werle’s own eyes.

GINA.

Oh, how dare you say such dreadful things! You make me quite scared.

HIALMAR.

It is profitable, now and then, to plunge deep into the night side of existence.

HEDVIG, _in her hat and cloak, comes in by the passage door. She
is pleasurably excited, and out of breath._

GINA.

Are you back already?

HEDVIG.

Yes, I didn’t care to go any farther. It was a good thing, too; for I've just met some one at the door.

HIALMAR.

It must have been that Mrs. Sörby.

HEDVIG.

Yes.

HIALMAR.

[_Walks up and down._] I hope you have seen her for the last time.

[_Silence._ HEDVIG, _discouraged, looks first at one and then at
the other, trying to divine their frame of mind._

HEDVIG.

[_Approaching, coaxingly._] Father.

HIALMAR.

Well—what is it, Hedvig?

HEDVIG.

Mrs. Sörby had something with her for me.

HIALMAR.

[_Stops._] For you?

HEDVIG.

Yes. Something for to-morrow.

GINA.

Bertha has always given you some little thing on your birthday.

HIALMAR.

What is it?

HEDVIG.

Oh, you mustn’t see it now. Mother is to give it to me to-morrow morning before I'm up.

HIALMAR.

What is all this hocus-pocus that I am to be kept in the dark about!

HEDVIG.

[_Quickly._] Oh no, you may see it if you like. It’s a big letter.

[_Takes the letter out of her cloak pocket._

HIALMAR.

A letter too?

HEDVIG.

Yes, it is only a letter. The rest will come afterwards, I suppose. But fancy—a letter! I've never had a letter before. And there’s “Miss” written upon it. [_Reads._] “Miss Hedvig Ekdal.” Only fancy—that’s me!

HIALMAR.

Let me see that letter.

HEDVIG.

[_Hands it to him._] There it is.

HIALMAR.

That is Mr. Werle’s hand.

GINA.

Are you sure of that, Ekdal?

HIALMAR.

Look for yourself.

GINA.

Oh, what do _I_ know about such-like things?

HIALMAR.

Hedvig, may I open the letter—and read it?

HEDVIG.

Yes, of course you may, if you want to.

GINA.

No, not to-night, Ekdal; it’s to be kept till to-morrow.

HEDVIG.

[_Softly._] Oh, can’t you let him read it! It’s sure to be something good; and then father will be glad, and everything will be nice again.

HIALMAR.

I may open it then?

HEDVIG.

Yes do, father. I'm so anxious to know what it is.

HIALMAR.

Well and good. [_Opens the letter, takes out a paper, reads it through, and appears bewildered._] What is this——!

GINA.

What does it say?

HEDVIG.

Oh yes, father—tell us!

HIALMAR.

Be quiet. [_Reads it through again; he has turned_ _pale, but says with self-control_:] It is a deed of gift, Hedvig.

HEDVIG.

Is it? What sort of gift am I to have?

HIALMAR.

Read for yourself.

[HEDVIG _goes over and reads for a time by the lamp._

HIALMAR.

[_Half-aloud, clenching his hands._] The eyes! The eyes—and then that letter!

HEDVIG.

[_Leaves off reading._] Yes, but it seems to me that it’s grandfather that’s to have it.

HIALMAR.

[_Takes the letter from her._] Gina—can you understand this?

GINA.

I know nothing whatever about it; tell me what’s the matter.

HIALMAR.

Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grandfather need not trouble himself any longer with the copying, but that he can henceforth draw on the office for a hundred crowns a month——

GREGERS.

Aha!

HEDVIG.

A hundred crowns, mother! I read that.

GINA.

What a good thing for grandfather!

HIALMAR.

——a hundred crowns a month so long as he needs it—that means, of course, so long as he lives.

GINA.

Well, so he’s provided for, poor dear.

HIALMAR.

But there is more to come. You didn’t read that, Hedvig. Afterwards this gift is to pass on to you.

HEDVIG.

To me! The whole of it?

HIALMAR.

He says that the same amount is assured to you for the whole of your life. Do you hear that, Gina?

GINA.

Yes, I hear.

HEDVIG.

Fancy—all that money for me! [_Shakes him._] Father, father, aren’t you glad——?

HIALMAR.

[_Eluding her._] Glad! [_Walks about._] Oh what vistas—what perspectives open up before me! It is Hedvig, Hedvig that he showers these benefactions upon!

GINA.

Yes, because it’s Hedvig’s birthday——

HEDVIG.

And you’ll get it all the same, father! You know quite well I shall give all the money to you and mother.

HIALMAR.

To mother, yes! There we have it.

GREGERS.

Hialmar, this is a trap he is setting for you.

HIALMAR.

Do you think it’s another trap?

GREGERS.

When he was here this morning he said: Hialmar Ekdal is not the man you imagine him to be.

HIALMAR.

Not the man——!

GREGERS.

That you shall see, he said.

HIALMAR.

He meant you should see that I would let myself be bought off——!

HEDVIG.

Oh mother, what does all this mean?

GINA.

Go and take off your things.

[HEDVIG _goes out by the kitchen door, half-crying._

GREGERS.

Yes, Hialmar—now is the time to show who was right, he or I.

HIALMAR.

[_Slowly tears the paper across, lays both pieces on the table, and says_:] Here is my answer.

GREGERS.

Just what I expected.

HIALMAR.

[_Goes over to GINA, who stands by the stove, and says in a low voice_:] Now please make a clean breast of it. If the connection between you and him was quite over when you—came to care for me, as you call it—why did he place us in a position to marry?

GINA.

I suppose he thought as he could come and go in our house.

HIALMAR.

Only _that_? Was not he afraid of a possible contingency?

GINA.

I don’t know what you mean.

HIALMAR.

I want to know whether—your child has the right to live under my roof.

GINA.

[_Draws herself up; her eyes flash._] _You_ ask that!

HIALMAR.

You shall answer me this one question: Does Hedvig belong to me—or——? Well!

GINA.

[_Looking at him with cold defiance._] I don’t know.

HIALMAR.

[_Quivering a little._] You don’t know!

GINA.

How should _I_ know? A creature like _me_——

HIALMAR.

[_Quietly turning away from her._] Then I have nothing more to do in this house.

GREGERS.

Take care, Hialmar! Think what you are doing!

HIALMAR.

[_Puts on his overcoat._] In this case, there is nothing for a man like me to think twice about.

GREGERS.

Yes indeed, there are endless things to be considered. You three must be together if you are to attain the true frame of mind for self-sacrifice and forgiveness.

HIALMAR.

I don’t want to attain it. Never, never! My hat! [_Takes his hat._] My home has fallen in ruins about me. [_Bursts into tears._] Gregers, I have no child!

HEDVIG.

[_Who has opened the kitchen door._] What is that you’re saying? [_Coming to him._] Father, father!

GINA.

There, you see!

HIALMAR.

Don’t come near me, Hedvig! Keep far away. I cannot bear to see you. Oh! those eyes——! Good-bye. _Makes for the door._

HEDVIG.

[_Clinging close to him and screaming loudly._] No! no! Don’t leave me!

GINA.

[_Cries out._] Look at the child, Ekdal! Look at the child!

HIALMAR.

I will not! I cannot! I must get out—away from all this!

[_He tears himself away from_ HEDVIG, _and goes out by the
passage door._

HEDVIG.

[_With despairing eyes._] He is going away from us, mother! He is going away from us! He will never come back again!

GINA.

Don’t cry, Hedvig. Father’s sure to come back again.

HEDVIG.

[_Throws herself sobbing on the sofa._] No, no, he’ll never come home to us any more.

GREGERS.

Do you believe I meant all for the best, Mrs. Ekdal?

GINA.

Yes, I daresay you did; but God forgive you, all the same.

HEDVIG.

[_Lying on the sofa._] Oh, this will kill me! What have I done to him? Mother, you must fetch him home again!

GINA.

Yes yes yes; only be quiet, and I'll go out and look for him. [_Puts on her outdoor things._] Perhaps he’s gone in to Relling’s. But you mustn’t lie there and cry. Promise me!

HEDVIG.

[_Weeping convulsively._] Yes, I'll stop, I'll stop; if only father comes back!

GREGERS.

[_To GINA, who is going._] After all, had you not better leave him to fight out his bitter fight to the end?

GINA.

Oh, he can do that afterwards. First of all, we must get the child quieted.

[_Goes out by the passage door._

HEDVIG.

[_Sits up and dries her tears._] Now you must tell me what all this means. Why doesn’t father want me any more?

GREGERS.

You mustn’t ask that till you are a big girl—quite grown-up.

HEDVIG.

[_Sobs._] But I can’t go on being as miserable as this till I'm grown-up.—I think I know what it is.—Perhaps I'm not really father’s child.

GREGERS.

[_Uneasily._] How could _that_ be?

HEDVIG.

Mother might have found me. And perhaps father has just got to know it; I've read of such things.

GREGERS.

Well, but if it were so——

HEDVIG.

I think he might be just as fond of me for all that. Yes, fonder almost. We got the wild duck in a present, you know, and I love it so dearly all the same.

GREGERS.

[_Turning the conversation._] Ah, the wild duck, by-the-bye! Let us talk about the wild duck a little, HEDVIG.

HEDVIG.

The poor wild duck! He doesn’t want to see it any more either. Only think, he wanted to wring its neck!

GREGERS.

Oh, he won’t do that.

HEDVIG.

No; but he said he would like to. And I think it was horrid of father to say it; for I pray for the wild duck every night, and ask that it may be preserved from death and all that is evil.

GREGERS.

[_Looking at her._] Do you say your prayers every night?

HEDVIG.

Yes.

GREGERS.

Who taught you to do that?

HEDVIG.

I myself; one time when father was very ill, and had leeches on his neck, and said that death was staring him in the face.

GREGERS.

Well?

HEDVIG.

Then I prayed for him as I lay in bed; and since then I have always kept it up.

GREGERS.

And now you pray for the wild duck too?

HEDVIG.

I thought it was best to bring in the wild duck; for she was so weakly at first.

GREGERS.

Do you pray in the morning, too?

HEDVIG.

No, of course not.

GREGERS.

Why not in the morning as well?

HEDVIG.

In the morning it’s light, you know, and there’s nothing in particular to be afraid of.

GREGERS.

And your father was going to wring the neck of the wild duck that you love so dearly?

HEDVIG.

No; he said he ought to wring its neck, but he would spare it for my sake; and that was kind of father.

GREGERS.

[_Coming a little nearer._] But suppose you were to sacrifice the wild duck of your own free will for _his_ sake.

HEDVIG.

[_Rising._] The wild duck!

GREGERS.

Suppose you were to make a free-will offering, for his sake, of the dearest treasure you have in the world!

HEDVIG.

Do you think _that_ would do any good?

GREGERS.

Try it, Hedvig.

HEDVIG.

[_Softly, with flashing eyes._] Yes, I will try it.

GREGERS.

Have you really the courage for it, do you think?

HEDVIG.

I'll ask grandfather to shoot the wild duck for me.

GREGERS.

Yes, do. But not a word to your mother about it.

HEDVIG.

Why not?

GREGERS.

She doesn’t understand us.

HEDVIG.

The wild duck! I'll try it to-morrow morning!

[GINA _comes in by the passage door._

HEDVIG.

[_Going towards her._] Did you find him, mother?

GINA.

No, but I heard as he had called and taken Relling with him.

GREGERS.

Are you sure of that?

GINA.

Yes, the porter’s wife said so. Molvik went with them too, she said.

GREGERS.

This evening, when his mind so sorely needs to wrestle in solitude——!

GINA.

[_Takes off her things._] Yes, men are strange creatures, so they are. The Lord only knows where Relling has dragged him to! I ran over to Madam Eriksen’s, but they weren’t _there_.

HEDVIG.

[_Struggling to keep back her tears._] Oh, if he should never come home any more!

GREGERS.

He _will_ come home again. I shall have news to give him to-morrow; and then you shall see _how_ he comes home. You may rely upon that, Hedvig, and sleep in peace. Good-night.

[_He goes out by the passage door._

HEDVIG.

[_Throws herself sobbing on_ GINA’S _neck._] Mother, mother!

GINA.

[_Pats her shoulder and sighs._] Ah yes; Relling was right, he was. That’s what comes of it when crazy creatures go about presenting the claims of the—what-you-may-call-it.

ACT FIFTH.

HIALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. Cold, grey, morning light. Wet snow lies upon
the large panes of the sloping roof-window._

GINA _comes from the kitchen with an apron and bib on, and carrying a
dusting-brush and a duster; she goes towards the sitting-room
door. At the same moment_ HEDVIG _comes hurriedly in from the
passage._

GINA.

[_Stops._] Well?

HEDVIG.

Oh, mother, I almost think he’s down at Relling’s——

GINA.

There, you see!

HEDVIG.

——because the porter’s wife says she could hear that Relling had two people with him when he came home last night.

GINA.

That’s just what I thought.

HEDVIG.

But it’s no use his being there, if he won’t come up to us.

GINA.

I'll go down and speak to him at all events.

OLD EKDAL, _in dressing-gown and slippers, and with a lighted
pipe, appears at the door of his room._

EKDAL.

Hialmar—— Isn’t Hialmar at home?

GINA.

No, he’s gone out.

EKDAL.

So early? And in such a tearing snowstorm? Well well; just as he pleases; I can take my morning walk alone.

[_He slides the garret door aside;_ HEDVIG _helps him; he goes
in; she closes it after him._

HEDVIG.

[_In an undertone._] Only think, mother, when poor grandfather hears that father is going to leave us.

GINA.

Oh, nonsense; grandfather mustn’t hear anything about it. It was a heaven’s mercy he wasn’t at home yesterday in all that hurly-burly.

HEDVIG.

Yes, but——

[GREGERS _comes in by the passage door._

GREGERS.

Well, have you any news of him?

GINA.

They say he’s down at Relling’s.

GREGERS.

At Relling’s! Has he really been out with those creatures?

GINA.

Yes, like enough.

GREGERS.

When he ought to have been yearning for solitude, to collect and clear his thoughts——

GINA.

Yes, you may well say so.

RELLING _enters from the passage._

HEDVIG.

[_Going to him._] Is father in your room?

GINA.

[_At the same time._] Is he there?

RELLING.

Yes, to be sure he is.

HEDVIG.

And you never let us know!

RELLING.

Yes; I'm a brute. But in the first place I had to look after the other brute; I mean our dæmonic friend, of course; and then I fell so dead asleep that——

GINA.

What does Ekdal say to-day?

RELLING.

He says nothing whatever.

HEDVIG.

Doesn’t he speak?

RELLING.

Not a blessed word.

GREGERS.

No no; I can understand that very well.

GINA.

But what’s he doing then?

RELLING.

He’s lying on the sofa, snoring.

GINA.

Oh is he? Yes, Ekdal’s a rare one to snore.

HEDVIG.

Asleep? Can he sleep?

RELLING.

Well, it certainly looks like it.

GREGERS.

No wonder, after the spiritual conflict that has rent him——

GINA.

And then he’s never been used to gadding about out of doors at night.

HEDVIG.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s getting some sleep, mother.

GINA.

Of course it is; and we must take care we don’t wake him up too early. Thank you, RELLING. I must get the house cleaned up a bit now, and then—— Come and help me, Hedvig.

[GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go into the sitting-room._

GREGERS.

[_Turning to RELLING._] What is your explanation of the spiritual tumult that is now going on in Hialmar Ekdal?

RELLING.

Devil a bit of a spiritual tumult have _I_ noticed in him.

GREGERS.

What! Not at such a crisis, when his whole life has been placed on a new foundation——? How can you think that such an individuality as Hialmar’s——?

RELLING.

Oh, individuality—he! If he ever had any tendency to the abnormal developments you call individuality, I can assure you it was rooted out of him while he was still in his teens.

GREGERS.

That would be strange indeed,—considering the loving care with which he was brought up.

RELLING.

By those two high-flown, hysterical maiden aunts, you mean?

GREGERS.

Let me tell you that they were women who never forgot the claim of the ideal—but of course you will only jeer at me again.

RELLING.

No, I'm in no humour for that. I know all about those ladies; for he has ladled out no end of rhetoric on the subject of his “two soul-mothers.” But I don’t think he has much to thank them for. Ekdal’s misfortune is that in his own circle he has always been looked upon as a shining light——

GREGERS.

Not without reason, surely. Look at the depth of his mind!

RELLING.

_I_ have never discovered it. That his father believed in it I don’t so much wonder; the old lieutenant has been an ass all his days.

GREGERS.

He has had a child-like mind all his days; that is what you cannot understand.

RELLING.

Well, so be it. But then, when our dear, sweet Hialmar went to college, he at once passed for the great light of the future amongst his comrades too! He was handsome, the rascal—red and white—a shop-girl’s dream of manly beauty; and with his superficially emotional temperament, and his sympathetic voice, and his talent for declaiming other people’s verses and other people’s thoughts——

GREGERS.

[_Indignantly._] Is it Hialmar Ekdal you are talking about in this strain?

RELLING.

Yes, with your permission; I am simply giving you an inside view of the idol you are grovelling before.

GREGERS.

I should hardly have thought I was quite stone blind.

RELLING.

Yes you are—or not far from it. You are a sick man, too, you see.

GREGERS.

You are right there.

RELLING.

Yes. Yours is a complicated case. First of all there is that plaguy integrity-fever; and then—what’s worse—you are always in a delirium of hero-worship; you must always have something to adore, outside yourself.

GREGERS.

Yes, I must certainly seek it outside myself.

RELLING.

But you make such shocking mistakes about every new phœnix you think you have discovered. Here again you have come to a cotter’s cabin with your claim of the ideal; and the people of the house are insolvent.

GREGERS.

If you don’t think better than that of Hialmar Ekdal, what pleasure can you find in being everlastingly with him?

RELLING.

Well, you see, I'm supposed to be a sort of a doctor—save the mark! I can’t but give a hand to the poor sick folk who live under the same roof with me.

GREGERS.

Oh, indeed! Hialmar Ekdal is sick too, is he!

RELLING.

Most people are, worse luck.

GREGERS.

And what remedy are you applying in Hialmar’s case?

RELLING.

My usual one. I am cultivating the life-illusion[19] in him.

GREGERS.

Life—illusion? I didn’t catch what you said.

RELLING.

Yes, I said illusion. For illusion, you know, is the stimulating principle.

GREGERS.

May I ask with what illusion Hialmar is inoculated?

RELLING.

No, thank you; I don’t betray professional secrets to quacksalvers. You would probably go and muddle his case still more than you have already. But my method is infallible. I have applied it to Molvik as well. I have made him “dæmonic.” That’s the blister I have to put on his neck.

GREGERS.

Is he not really dæmonic then?

RELLING.

What the devil do you mean by dæmonic! It’s only a piece of gibberish I've invented to keep up a spark of life in him. But for that, the poor harmless creature would have succumbed to self-contempt and despair many a long year ago. And then the old lieutenant! But he has hit upon his own cure, you see.

GREGERS.

Lieutenant Ekdal? What of him?

RELLING.

Just think of the old bear-hunter shutting himself up in that dark garret to shoot rabbits! I tell you there is not a happier sportsman in the world than that old man pottering about in there among all that rubbish. The four or five withered Christmas-trees he has saved up are the same to him as the whole great fresh Höidal forest; the cock and the hens are big game-birds in the fir-tops; and the rabbits that flop about the garret floor are the bears he has to battle with—the mighty hunter of the mountains!

GREGERS.

Poor unfortunate old man! Yes; he has indeed had to narrow the ideals of his youth.

RELLING.

While I think of it, Mr. Werle, junior—don’t use that foreign word: ideals. We have the excellent native word: lies.

GREGERS.

Do you think the two things are related?

RELLING.

Yes, just about as closely as typhus and putrid fever.

GREGERS.

Dr. Relling, I shall not give up the struggle until I have rescued Hialmar from your clutches!

RELLING.

So much the worse for him. Rob the average man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his happiness at the same stroke. [_To HEDVIG, who comes in from the sitting-room._] Well, little wild-duck-mother, I'm just going down to see whether papa is still lying meditating upon that wonderful invention of his.

[_Goes out by the passage door._

GREGERS.

[_Approaches HEDVIG._] I can see by your face that you have not yet done it.

HEDVIG.

What? Oh, that about the wild duck! No.

GREGERS.

I suppose your courage failed when the time came.

HEDVIG.

No, that wasn’t it. But when I awoke this morning and remembered what we had been talking about, it seemed so strange.

GREGERS.

Strange?

HEDVIG.

Yes, I don’t know——. Yesterday evening, at the moment, I thought there was something so delightful about it; but since I have slept and thought of it again, it somehow doesn’t seem worth while.

GREGERS.

Ah, I thought you could not have grown up quite unharmed in this house.

HEDVIG.

I don’t care about that, if only father would come up——

GREGERS.

Oh, if only your eyes had been opened to that which gives life its value—if you possessed the true, joyous, fearless spirit of sacrifice, you would soon see _how_ he would come up to you.—But I believe in you still, Hedvig.

[_He goes out by the passage door._

[HEDVIG _wanders about the room for a time; she is on the
point of going into the kitchen when a knock is heard at the
garret door._ HEDVIG _goes over and opens it a little; old_
EKDAL _comes out; she pushes the door to again._

EKDAL.

H'm, it’s not much fun to take one’s morning walk alone.

HEDVIG.

Wouldn’t you like to go shooting, grandfather?

EKDAL.

It’s not the weather for it to-day. It’s so dark there, you can scarcely see where you’re going.

HEDVIG.

Do you never want to shoot anything besides the rabbits?

EKDAL.

Do you think the rabbits aren’t good enough?

HEDVIG.

Yes, but what about the wild duck?

EKDAL.