Part 13
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.