Part 12

[_By the stove, stops her, looks at her, puts his arm round her neck and presses her to him._] Hedvig, Hedvig!

HEDVIG.

[_With tears of joy._] My dear, kind father!

HIALMAR.

No, don’t call me that. Here have I been feasting at the rich man’s table,—battening at the groaning board——! And I couldn’t even——!

GINA.

[_Sitting at the table._] Oh nonsense, nonsense, Ekdal.

HIALMAR.

It’s not nonsense! And yet you mustn’t be too hard upon me. You know that I love you for all that.

HEDVIG.

[_Throwing her arms round him._] And we love you, oh so dearly, father!

HIALMAR.

And if I am unreasonable once in a while,—why then—you must remember that I am a man beset by a host of cares. There, there! [_Dries his eyes._] No beer at such a moment as this. Give me the flute.

[HEDVIG _runs to the bookcase and fetches it._

HIALMAR.

Thanks! That’s right. With my flute in my hand and you two at my side—ah——!

[HEDVIG _seats herself at the table near_ GINA: HIALMAR _paces backwards and forwards, pipes up vigorously, and plays a Bohemian peasant dance, but in a slow plaintive tempo, and with sentimental expression._

HIALMAR.

[_Breaking off the melody, holds out his left hand to GINA, and says with emotion_:] Our roof may be poor and humble, Gina; but it is home. And with all my heart I say: here dwells my happiness.

[_He begins to play again; almost immediately after, a knocking is heard at the entrance door._

GINA.

[_Rising._] Hush, Ekdal,—I think there’s some one at the door.

HIALMAR.

[_Laying the flute on the bookcase._] There! Again!

[GINA _goes and opens the door._

Gregers Werle.

[_In the passage._] Excuse me——

GINA.

[_Starting back slightly._] Oh!

GREGERS.

——does not Mr. Ekdal, the photographer, live here?

GINA.

Yes, he does.

HIALMAR.

[_Going towards the door._] Gregers! You here after all? Well, come in then.

GREGERS.

[_Coming in._] I told you I would come and look you up.

HIALMAR.

But this evening——? Have you left the party?

GREGERS.

I have left both the party and my father’s house.—Good evening, Mrs. Ekdal. I don’t know whether you recognise me?

GINA.

Oh yes; it’s not difficult to know young Mr. Werle again.

GREGERS.

No, I am like my mother; and no doubt you remember her.

HIALMAR.

Left your father’s house, did you say?

GREGERS.

Yes, I have gone to a hotel.

HIALMAR.

Indeed. Well, since you’re here, take off your coat and sit down.

GREGERS.

Thanks.

[_He takes off his overcoat. He is now dressed in a plain grey suit of a countrified cut._

HIALMAR.

Here, on the sofa. Make yourself comfortable.

[GREGERS _seats himself on the sofa;_ HIALMAR _takes a chair at the table._

GREGERS.

[_Looking around him._] So these are your quarters, Hialmar—this is your home.

HIALMAR.

This is the studio, as you see——

GINA.

But it’s the largest of our rooms, so we generally sit here.

HIALMAR.

We used to live in a better place; but this flat has one great advantage: there are such capital outer rooms——

GINA.

And we have a room on the other side of the passage that we can let.

GREGERS.

[_To HIALMAR._] Ah—so you have lodgers too?

HIALMAR.

No, not yet. They’re not so easy to find, you see; you have to keep your eyes open. [_To_ HEDVIG.] What about that beer, eh?

[HEDVIG _nods and goes out into the kitchen._

GREGERS.

So that is your daughter?

HIALMAR.

Yes, that is HEDVIG.

GREGERS.

And she is your only child?

HIALMAR.

Yes, the only one. She is the joy of our lives, and—[_lowering his voice_]—at the same time our deepest sorrow, Gregers.

GREGERS.

What do you mean?

HIALMAR.

She is in serious danger of losing her eyesight.

GREGERS.

Becoming blind?

HIALMAR.

Yes. Only the first symptoms have appeared as yet, and she may not feel it much for some time. But the doctor has warned us. It is coming, inexorably.

GREGERS.

What a terrible misfortune! How do you account for it?

HIALMAR.

[_Sighs._] Hereditary, no doubt.

GREGERS.

[_Starting._] Hereditary?

GINA.

Ekdal’s mother had weak eyes.

HIALMAR.

Yes, so my father says; I can’t remember her.

GREGERS.

Poor child! And how does she take it?

HIALMAR.

Oh, you can imagine we haven’t the heart to tell her of it. She dreams of no danger. Gay and careless and chirping like a little bird, she flutters onward into a life of endless night. [_Overcome._] Oh, it is cruelly hard on me, Gregers.

[HEDVIG _brings a tray with beer and glasses, which she sets upon the table._

HIALMAR.

[_Stroking her hair._] Thanks, thanks, Hedvig.

[HEDVIG _puts her arm round his neck and whispers in his ear._

HIALMAR.

No, no bread and butter just now. [_Looks up._] But perhaps you would like some, Gregers.

GREGERS.

[_With a gesture of refusal._] No, no thank you.

HIALMAR.

[_Still melancholy._] Well, you can bring in a little all the same. If you have a crust, that is all I want. And plenty of butter on it, mind.

[HEDVIG _nods gaily and goes out into the kitchen again._

GREGERS.

[_Who has been following her with his eyes._] She seems quite strong and healthy otherwise.

GINA.

Yes. In other ways there’s nothing amiss with her, thank goodness.

GREGERS.

She promises to be very like you, Mrs. Ekdal. How old is she now?

GINA.

Hedvig is close on fourteen; her birthday is the day after to-morrow.

GREGERS.

She is pretty tall for her age, then.

GINA.

Yes, she’s shot up wonderful this last year.

GREGERS.

It makes one realise one’s own age to see these young people growing up.—How long is it now since you were married?

GINA.

_We’ve_ been married—let me see—just on fifteen years.

GREGERS.

Is it so long as that?

GINA.

[_Becomes attentive; looks at him._] Yes, it is indeed.

HIALMAR.

Yes, so it is. Fifteen years all but a few months. [_Changing his tone._] They must have been long years for you, up at the works, Gregers.

GREGERS.

They seemed long while I was living them; now they are over, I hardly know how the time has gone.

[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.