Part 7

HEDVIG (_in a low tone_). Oh! do let him read it! It’s sure to be something nice, and then father’ll be glad and he’ll be in good spirits again.

HJALMAR. Then I may open it.

HEDVIG. Yes, please do, father. It’ll be such fun to know what it is.

HJALMAR. Good. (_He opens the letter, takes out a paper, reads it through and seems confused._) What is this!----

GINA. What’s in it, then?

HEDVIG. Oh, yes, father--tell us!

HJALMAR. Be silent. (_Reads it through again; he turns pale but masters himself._) It’s a deed of gift, Hedvig.

HEDVIG. Fancy! What is it I’m to have?

HJALMAR. Read it yourself. (HEDVIG _goes to the lamp and reads a moment_.)

HJALMAR (_in a low voice, clenching his hands_). The eyes! the eyes!--and now this letter!

HEDVIG (_leaves off reading_). Yes, but I think this is meant for grandfather.

HJALMAR (_taking the letter from her_). You Gina--can you understand this?

GINA. Why, I don’t know anything on earth about it--just tell us.

HJALMAR. Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grandfather need no longer trouble himself with copying, but that for the future he’s to draw a hundred crowns a month at the office.

GREGERS. Aha!

HEDVIG. A hundred crowns, mother! I read that.

GINA. That’ll come in very well for grandfather.

HJALMAR.----A hundred crowns as long as he may need it--that means, of course, until he has closed his eyes in death.

GINA. Well, then he’s provided for, poor old fellow.

HJALMAR. But there’s more follows. You didn’t read this, Hedvig. Afterwards it’s to revert to you.

HEDVIG. To me! All of it?

HJALMAR. He writes that the same sum is assured to you for your whole life. Do you hear that, Gina?

GINA. Yes, I hear well enough.

HEDVIG. Fancy--I’m to have all that money! (_Shaking him._) Father, father, aren’t you glad----

HJALMAR (_evasively_). Glad! (_Walking about the room._) Ah! what an out-look!--what a perspective unrolls itself before me! It is Hedvig, it is she whom he endows so richly!

GINA. Why, it’s Hedvig’s birthday----

HEDVIG. And it’ll be yours all the same, father! You know that I shall give all the money to you and mother.

HJALMAR. To mother; yes. That’s it.

GREGERS. Hjalmar, this is a snare he is laying for you.

HJALMAR. Do you think this is another snare?

GREGERS. When he was here this morning he said, “Hjalmar Ekdal is not the man you take him for.”

HJALMAR. Not the man!

GREGERS. “You will see that,” he said.

HJALMAR. You were to see that I would allow myself to be bought with money----

HEDVIG. But, mother, what’s the matter?

GINA. Go and take off your things.

HEDVIG _goes out almost crying, at the kitchen door_.

GREGERS. Yes, Hjalmar--now we shall see who is right--he or I.

HJALMAR (_slowly tears the paper across, and lays both pieces on the table_). Here is my answer.

GREGERS. I expected it.

HJALMAR (_going up to_ GINA _who stands by the oven, and speaking in a low tone_). And now no more deceit. If the connection between you and him was quite at an end, when you--came to care for me, as you call it--why did he make it possible for us to marry?

GINA. I suppose he thought he’d be free of the house.

HJALMAR. Only _that_? Wasn’t he afraid of a certain result?

GINA. I don’t understand what you mean.

HJALMAR. I want to know if--your child has the right to live under my roof.

GINA (_drawing herself up, her eyes flashing_). And you ask that?

HJALMAR. You must answer me this one question: Is Hedvig my child, or----? Well!

GINA (_looks at him with cold defiance_). I don’t know.

HJALMAR (_shudders slightly_). You don’t know!

GINA. How should _I_ know? Such a woman as I?

HJALMAR (_quietly turning from her_). Then I have nothing more to do in this house.

GREGERS. Think what you’re doing, Hjalmar.

HJALMAR (_taking up his overcoat_). There’s nothing for a man like me to think about here.

GREGERS. Yes, here there is so much to be thought over. You three must remain together, if you are to reach the great height of self-sacrificing forgiveness.

HJALMAR. I will not. Never, never! My hat! (_Takes his hat._) My home has fallen into ruins about me (_bursting into tears_). Gregers, I have no child!

HEDVIG (_who has opened the kitchen door_). What do you say? (_Going up to him._) Father, father!

GINA. There now!

HJALMAR. Do not come near me, Hedvig. Stand away. I can not bear to see you. Ah! the eyes! Good-bye.

_Goes towards the door._

HEDVIG (_holding him fast and crying out_). No, no! No, no! Don’t go away from me!

GINA (_calls out_). Look at the child, Ekdal! Look at the child!

HJALMAR. I will not. I can not. I must away; away from all this.

_He tears himself away from_ HEDVIG _and goes out at the entrance-door_.

HEDVIG (_with despairing look_). He is going from us mother! He is going from us! He will never come back again!

GINA. If only you’ll not cry, Hedvig, father’ll come again!

HEDVIG (_throws herself sobbing upon the sofa_). No, no, he’ll never come home to us any more.

GREGERS. You believe that I meant it all for the best, Mrs. Ekdal?

GINA. Yes, I do almost, but God forgive you, all the same.

HEDVIG (_lying on the sofa_). Oh! I feel as if it would kill me! What have I done to him? Mother, you must bring him home again!

GINA. Yes, yes, yes; only be quiet, and I’ll go out and look for him. (_Puts on her out-door things._) Perhaps he’s gone to Relling’s. But you mustn’t lie there and howl. Will you promise me that?

HEDVIG (_crying convulsively_). Yes, I’ll stop, if only father will come home again.

GREGERS (_to_ GINA _who is going out_). Wouldn’t it be better after all that you let him first fight out to the end his bitter fight?

GINA. Oh! he can do that afterwards. First and foremost we must quiet the child.

_She goes out at the entrance-door._

HEDVIG (_sitting up and drying her eyes_). Now you must tell me what it’s all about. Why won’t father have anything more to do with me?

GREGERS. You mustn’t ask about that till you’re a big girl and grown up.

HEDVIG (_sobbing_). But I can’t go on being so terribly miserable till I’m big and grown up--I know what it is--perhaps I’m not father’s real child.

GREGERS (_uneasily_). How could that be?

HEDVIG. Why, mother may have found me. And now, perhaps, father has got to know it; for I’ve read about such things.

GREGERS. Well, but if it were so----

HEDVIG. Yes, I think he might love me just as much for all that. And even more. Why the wild duck, too, was sent us for a present, and yet I care so much for her.

GREGERS (_trying to change the subject_). Yes, the wild duck, that’s true! Let’s talk a little about the wild duck, Hedvig.

HEDVIG. The poor wild duck. He can’t bear to see her either. Only think, he wanted to wring her neck!

GREGERS. Oh! he’ll not do that I’m sure.

HEDVIG. No, but he said so. And I think it was so horrid of father, because I say my prayers for the wild duck every night and beg she may be preserved from death, and all that is evil.

GREGERS (_looking at her_). Do you always say your prayers at night?

HEDVIG. Oh, yes.

GREGERS. Who taught you to do that?

HEDVIG. I myself; it was once when father was so ill, and had leeches on his throat, and then he said he was wrestling with death.

GREGERS. Well?

HEDVIG. So I prayed for him after I had gone to bed. And ever since I’ve gone on with it.

GREGERS. And now you pray for the wild duck, too?

HEDVIG. I thought it would be best to put the wild duck in too, for she was so sickly at first.

GREGERS. Do you pray in the morning, too?

HEDVIG. No, I don’t do that.

GREGERS. Why not in the morning as well?

HEDVIG. Oh! it’s light in the morning, and there’s nothing to be afraid of.

GREGERS. And the wild duck that you’re so very fond of--your father wanted to wring its neck?

HEDVIG. No, he said it would be best for him if he did, but that he would spare her for my sake; and that was very good of father.

GREGERS (_coming a little closer_). But if you were to sacrifice the wild duck of your own free will for his sake?

HEDVIG (_rising_). The wild duck!

GREGERS. If you now freely sacrificed for him the best thing you know and possess on earth?

HEDVIG. Do you think that would help?

GREGERS. Try it, Hedvig.

HEDVIG (_in a low voice and brightening eyes_). Yes, I will try.

GREGERS. And do you think you’ve enough strength of mind?

HEDVIG. I will ask grandfather to shoot her for me.

GREGERS. Yes, do so. But not a word of all this to your mother!

HEDVIG. Why not?

GREGERS. She does not understand us.

HEDVIG. The wild duck? I’ll try it early to-morrow.

GINA _comes in at the entrance door_.

HEDVIG (_going up to her_). Did you meet him, mother?

GINA. No, but I heard that he’d gone into Relling’s and taken him along with him.

GREGERS. Are you sure of that?

GINA. Yes, the porter’s wife told me. Molvik went with them too, she said.

GREGERS. And this at a time when he needs so sorely to wrestle in solitude!

GINA (_taking off her things_). Yes, men folk are so different. Heaven knows where Relling has dragged him to. I ran over to Mrs. Ericksen’s; but they weren’t there.

HEDVIG (_struggling with her tears_). Oh! if he should never come home any more!

GREGERS. He _will_ come home again. I will bear him a message to-morrow, and you will see _how_ he’ll come. Sleep peacefully on that, Hedvig. Good night.

_He goes out at the entrance door._

HEDVIG (_throwing herself sobbing on_ GINA’S _neck_). Mother, mother!

GINA (_patting her on the back and sighing_). Ah, yes! Relling was right. That is what comes of crazy people going about and presenting intricate claims.

ACT V.

[HJALMAR EKDAL’S _studio. Cold gray morning light. Wet snow on the great panes of the sky-light._ GINA, _in an apron and bib, with a broom and duster in her hand comes from the kitchen and goes towards the door of the sitting-room. At the same time_ HEDVIG _comes in hurriedly at the entrance-door_.]

GINA (_stopping_). Well?

HEDVIG. Oh, mother, I almost believe he’s down at Relling’s----

GINA. There, you see!

HEDVIG. For the porter’s wife said she could hear that Relling had two people with him when he came home in the night.

GINA. That’s just what I thought.

HEDVIG. But that’s no good if he won’t come up to us.

GINA. At any rate I’ll go down and speak to him.

OLD EKDAL _in dressing-gown and slippers, and with a lighted pipe comes in by the door of his room_.

EKDAL. I say, Hjalmar---- Isn’t Hjalmar at home?

GINA. No, he’s gone out.

EKDAL. So early? And in such a heavy snow-storm? Well, well, give me a hand, please, I can go the morning rounds alone.

_He pushes aside the door of the loft_, HEDVIG _helps him; he goes in, she closes the door after him_.

HEDVIG (_in a low voice_). Oh, think, mother, when poor grandfather hears that father is going away from us.

GINA. Oh, nonsense! Grandfather mustn’t hear anything about it. It’s a mercy he wasn’t at home yesterday during all that hullaballoo.

HEDVIG. Yes, but----

GREGERS _comes in at the entrance door_.

GREGERS. Well? Have you found any trace of him?

GINA. They say he’s down at Relling’s.

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

GINA. He has like enough.

GREGERS. Yes, but he--so in need of solitude and of thorough self-examination.

GINA. Yes, you may well say that.

RELLING _comes in from the passage_.

HEDVIG (_going up to him_). Is father with you?

GINA (_at the same time_). Is he there?

RELLING. Yes, of course he is.

HEDVIG. And you never told us!

RELLING. Yes, I’m a brute--but I had to get the other brute quiet first--the dæmonic one, of course--and then I fell so sound asleep that----

GINA. What does Ekdal say to-day?

RELLING. He doesn’t say anything whatever.

HEDVIG. Doesn’t he say anything?

RELLING. Not a blessed word.

GREGERS. No, no; I can well understand that.

GINA. But what’s he doing then?

RELLING. He’s lying on the sofa, snoring.

GINA. Really? Yes, Ekdal’s a great one to snore.

HEDVIG. Is he asleep? Can he sleep?

RELLING. Well, it looks like it.

GREGERS. Very natural after the spiritual strife that has torn him----

GINA. And especially as he’s not accustomed to knocking about at night.

HEDVIG. Perhaps it’s as well, mother, that father is able to sleep.

GINA. I think so, too. But now it’s not worth while for us to go and wake him too soon. Thank you, anyhow, Relling. I must first tidy up the rooms and then---- Come and help me, Hedvig.

GINA _and_ HEDVIG _go into the sitting-room_.

GREGERS (_turning to_ RELLING). Can you explain to me the spiritual turmoil now going on in Hjalmar Ekdal?

RELLING. Upon my soul I’ve not noticed any spiritual turmoil going on in him.

GREGERS. What! At such a juncture, when a new foundation is being laid for his whole life. Now, can you imagine that a man of Hjalmar’s individuality----

RELLING. Oh! Individuality--he! If he ever had any tendencies to the abnormal developments that you call individuality, they were extirpated, root and branch, while he was yet a boy; I can assure you of that.

GREGERS. That would be strange after the loving care with which he was brought up.

RELLING. You mean by those two affected, hysterical maiden aunts?

GREGERS. I may tell you they were women who never lost sight of the claims of the ideal--ah! you’ll gibe at me again, I suppose?

RELLING. No, I’m in no humor for that. Moreover, I know it all, for he has poured forth any amount of rhetoric about his “two spiritual-mothers.” But I don’t think he has much to thank them for. It is Ekdal’s misfortune that in his circle he has always been taken for a shining light----

GREGERS. And isn’t he one? In depth of soul I mean.

RELLING. I’ve never noticed anything of the sort. That his father should have believed this--well and good; for the old lieutenant has been a blockhead all his life.

GREGERS. All his life he has been a man with a child-like mind--_that_ is what you can not understand.

RELLING. Tut, tut! But as soon as the dear, sweet Hjalmar went to college, his fellow students instantly took him for the coming man. He was good looking, the rascal--red and white--just the sort of thing to delight a school girl--and as he had that mobile temperament and that sympathetic voice, and was so clever at declaiming the verses and ideas of others----

GREGERS (_indignantly_). Is it of Hjalmar Ekdal you are speaking like this?

RELLING. Yes, with your permission; that’s how the idol before which you lie prostrate, looks from within.

GREGERS. Yet I don’t think I am altogether blind either.

RELLING. Oh! you’re not so very far from it. For you are a sick man too, you see.

GREGERS. There you are right.

RELLING. Exactly. You are suffering from a complicated complaint. First, there’s that troublesome virtue-fever; and what’s worse, you’re always working yourself up into a delirium of hero-worship. You must always have something to admire outside yourself.

GREGERS. Yes, indeed, I must seek it outside myself.

RELLING. But you make such woeful blunders about the mighty paragons you think you see and hear about you. Here you’ve been visiting a farmer’s cottage again with your claims of the ideal; but the people in this house aren’t solvent.

GREGERS. If you haven’t a better opinion of Hjalmar Ekdal than that, what pleasure can you find in being so constantly in his company?

RELLING. Good heavens, I’m ashamed to say I’m supposed to be a sort of a kind of doctor, and so I must look after the poor diseased folk living in the same house.

GREGERS. Indeed! Is Hjalmar Ekdal diseased, too?

RELLING. Most people are, unfortunately.

GREGERS. And what remedy are you applying to Hjalmar?

RELLING. My usual one. I take care to keep up his life-lie.

GREGERS. The life--lie? Did I hear correctly?

RELLING. Yes, I said life-lie. For the life-lie is the stimulating principle, you see.

GREGERS. May I ask with what sort of a life-lie Hjalmar is infected?

RELLING. No, thanks, I don’t betray such secrets to quacks. You’d be quite capable of muddling him up even more for me. But the method is infallible. I’ve applied it to Molvik, too. I’ve made him “dæmonic.” That’s the phantasy I’ve had to put into _his_ head.

GREGERS. Then he’s not dæmonic?

RELLING. What the devil does it mean to be dæmonic? That’s only the gammon I invented to keep him going. If I’d not done that the poor, inoffensive fellow would have succumbed to self-contempt and despair many a long year ago. And then the old lieutenant! But he really hit upon his own cure.

GREGERS. Lieutenant Ekdal? What of him?

RELLING. Yes, think of it, he, the bear-hunter, goes into that gloomy loft and hunts rabbits! There’s not a sportsman on earth happier than that old man, when he’s bustling about in there with all that rubbish. The four or five withered Christmas trees that he stored up there are to him the same as the whole of the great, fresh Hojdal forest; the cock and the hens are to him game perched on the top of fir trees, and the rabbits hopping about the floor of the loft, they are the bears he grapples with, he, the hardy old hunter.

GREGERS. Unfortunate old Lieutenant Ekdal, yes. He certainly has had to modify the ideals of his youth.

RELLING. But, by the way, Mr. Werle, junior--don’t use that foreign word “ideals.” We’ve as good a word, “lies.”

GREGERS. Do you think the two things are akin, then?

RELLING. Yes, much as typhus and putrescent fever are.

GREGERS. Doctor Relling, I shall not rest content until I have rescued Hjalmar from your clutches!

RELLING. That would be worst for _him_. If you take away the average man’s life-lie you take away his happiness at the same time. (_To_ HEDVIG, _who comes in from the sitting-room_.) Well, little mother of the wild duck. I’m going down now to see if our father’s still lying there pondering on that wonderful invention.

_He goes out at the entrance door._

GREGERS (_approaching_ HEDVIG). I can see from your face that it’s not yet done.

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

GREGERS. I suppose your strength of mind failed you when it came to the point.

HEDVIG. No, it’s not that exactly. But when I woke up early this morning and thought over what we’d talked about, it seemed to me that it was so strange.

GREGERS. Strange?

HEDVIG. Yes, I don’t know---- Yesterday evening, directly after, I thought there was something so beautiful about it; but after I’d been to sleep and thought it over again, there seemed to be nothing in it.

GREGERS. Ah no! I suppose you couldn’t have grown up here without some falling off.

HEDVIG. That doesn’t matter, if only father would come up, I----

GREGERS. Ah! If only your eyes had been really opened to that which makes life of value--if you had the real, joyous, brave spirit of sacrifice you would soon see that he would come up to you---- But I still have faith in you, Hedvig.

_He goes out at the entrance door._ HEDVIG _walks about the room; she is going into the kitchen when there is a knock at the door of the loft_. HEDVIG _goes and opens it a little_, OLD EKDAL _comes out, she pushes the door to again_.

EKDAL. H’m. There’s not much fun in going the morning rounds alone.

HEDVIG. Didn’t you want to go hunting, grandfather?

EKDAL. Not the weather to-day for hunting. So dark there; you can hardly see your hand before your face.

HEDVIG. Haven’t you ever felt inclined to shoot at something besides the rabbits.

EKDAL. Aren’t the rabbits good enough, eh?

HEDVIG. Yes, but the wild duck?

EKDAL. Ha, ha! Are you afraid I shall shoot your wild duck? Not for the world, never.

HEDVIG. No, I suppose you couldn’t; for they say it’s very difficult to shoot wild ducks.

EKDAL. Couldn’t? Should think I could.

HEDVIG. How would you set about it, grandfather--I don’t mean with _my_ wild duck, but with another one?

EKDAL. Would take care to shoot it under the breast, you know, for that’s the safest. And then you must shoot _against_ the feathers, you see, not _with_ the feathers.

HEDVIG. And then they die, grandfather?

EKDAL. Yes, of course, if you shoot properly. Well, now I must go in and get myself up. H’m--you understand--h’m. (_He goes into his room._)

HEDVIG _waits for a moment, glances at the door of the sitting-room; goes back to the book-case, stands on tip-toe, takes down the double-barreled pistol from the shelf and looks at it_. GINA _with broom and duster comes in from the sitting-room_. HEDVIG _hurriedly and unnoticed puts away the pistol_.

GINA. Don’t stand there rummaging among your father’s things, Hedvig.

HEDVIG (_going away from the book-case_). I was only tidying it up.

GINA. You’d better go into the kitchen and see if the coffee’s keeping hot; I’ll take the breakfast tray with me when I go down to him.

HEDVIG _goes out_; GINA _begins sweeping and dusting the studio. After a while the entrance-door is open hesitatingly, and_ HJALMAR EKDAL _looks in. He has on his overcoat, but no hat, he is unwashed, and his hair is tumbled and disheveled; his eyes are dull and lusterless._

GINA (_stands still with the broom in her hand and looks at him_). Ah! Ekdal, so you’ve come after all?

HJALMAR (_comes in and answers in a hollow voice_). I have come--only to depart at once.

GINA. Yes, yes, so I suppose. But, good Lord! what a sight you do look!

HJALMAR. A sight?

GINA. And your good winter-coat, too! Well, that’s done for.

HEDVIG (_at the kitchen door_). Mother, hadn’t I better---- (_She sees_ HJALMAR, _cries out with delight, and runs towards him_.) Oh! Father, father!

HJALMAR (_turns from her, and waives her off_.) Away, away, away! (_To_ GINA.) Take her away from me, I say!

GINA (_in a low voice_). Go into the sitting-room, Hedvig.

HEDVIG _goes in silently_.

HJALMAR (_busy pulling out the table-drawer_). I must have my books--where are my books?

GINA. What books?

HJALMAR. My scientific works, of course--the technical periodicals, that I need for my invention.

GINA (_searching in the book-case_). Are these the ones without any covers?

HJALMAR. Of course they are.

GINA (_putting a heap of magazines on the table_). Hadn’t I better tell Hedvig to cut them for you?

HJALMAR. They need not be cut for me.

_A short pause._

GINA. Then you’re still determined to leave us, Ekdal?

HJALMAR (_running over the books_). Surely that’s self understood.

GINA. Very well.

HJALMAR (_fiercely_). For I can’t stop here to have my heart pierced every hour of the day!

GINA. God forgive you, for thinking so poorly of me.

HJALMAR. Prove----

GINA. I think it’s for _you_ to prove.

HJALMAR. After a past such as yours? There are certain demands--I am tempted to call them ideal demands----