GREGERS.
[_Reprovingly._] I _thought_ you hadn"t grown up quite unharmed in this house! But if you really had the true, joyous spirit of self-sacrifice, you"d have a shot at that Wild Duck, if you died for it!
HEDVIG.
[_Slowly._] I see; you mean that my const.i.tution"s changing, and I ought to behave as such?
GREGERS.
Exactly, I"m what Americans would term a "crank"--but _I_ believe in you, Hedvig.
[HEDVIG _takes down the pistol from the mantelpiece, and goes into the garret with flashing eyes_; GINA _comes in_.
HIALMAR.
[_Looking in at door with hesitation; he is unwashed and dishevelled._]
Has anybody happened to see my hat?
GINA.
Gracious, what a sight you are! Sit down and have some breakfast, do.
[_She brings it._
HIALMAR.
[_Indignantly._] What! touch food under _this_ roof? Never! [_Helps himself to bread-and-b.u.t.ter and coffee._] Go and pack up my scientific uncut books, my ma.n.u.scripts, and all the best rabbits, in my portmanteau. I am going away for ever. On second thoughts, I shall stay in the spare room for another day or two--it won"t be the same as living with you!
[_He takes some salt meat._
GREGERS.
_Must_ you go? Just when you"ve got nice firm ground to build upon--thanks to me! Then there"s your great invention, too.
HIALMAR.
Everything"s invented already. And I only cared about my invention because, although it doesn"t exist yet, I thought Hedvig believed in it, with all the strength of her sweet little short-sighted eyes! But now I don"t believe in Hedvig!
[_He pours himself out another cup of coffee._
GREGERS.
[_Earnestly._] But, Hialmar, if I can prove to you that she is ready to sacrifice her cherished Wild Duck? See!
[_He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers_ HEDVIG _aiming at the_ Wild Duck _with the b.u.t.t-end of the pistol. Tableau._
GINA.
[_Excitedly._] But don"t you _see_? It"s the pigstol--that fatal Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian dramas, _never_ shoots straight! And she has got it by the wrong end too. She will shoot herself!
GREGERS.
[_Quietly._] She will! Let the child make amends. It will be a most realistic and impressive finale!
GINA.
No, no--put down the pigstol, Hedvig. Do you hear, child?
HEDVIG.
[_Still aiming._] I hear--but I shan"t unless father tells me to.
GREGERS.
Hialmar, show the great soul I always _said_ you had. This sorrow will set free what is n.o.ble in you. Don"t spoil a fine situation. Be a man!
Let the child shoot herself!
HIALMAR.
[_Irresolutely._] Well, really, I don"t know. There"s a good deal in what Gregers says. H"m!
GINA.
A good deal of tomfool rubbish! I"m illiterate, I know. I"ve been a Wild Duck in my time, and I waddle. But for all that, I"m the only person in the play with a grain of common-sense. And I"m sure--whatever Mr. Ibsen or Gregers choose to say--that a screaming burlesque like this ought _not_ to end like a tragedy--even in this queer Norway of ours! And it shan"t, either! Tell the child to put that nasty pigstol down, and come away--do!
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Put that nasty pigstol down!"]
HIALMAR.
[_Yielding._] Ah, well, I am a farcical character myself, after all.
Don"t touch a hair of that duck"s head, Hedvig. Come to my arms and all shall be forgiven!
[HEDVIG _throws down the pistol--which goes off and kills a rabbit--and rushes into her father"s arms_. Old EKDAL _comes out of a corner with a fowl on each shoulder, and bursts into tears. Affecting family picture._
GREGERS.
[_Annoyed._] It"s all very pretty, I dare say--but it"s not Ibsen! My real mission is to be the thirteenth at table. I don"t know what I mean--but I fly to fulfil it! [_He goes._
HIALMAR.
And now we"ve got rid of _him_, Hedvig, fetch me the deed of gift I tore up, and a slip of paper, and a penny bottle of gum, and we"ll soon make a valid instrument of it again.
[_He pastes the torn deed together as the Curtain slowly descends._
* * * * *
PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL