[He moves a chair nearer to HILDA and sits down.HILDA.[Impatiently, taps on her knee.] Well, now for the crack in the chimney!SOLNESS.I had noticed the split in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I went up into the attic, I looked to see if it was still there.HILDA.And it was?SOLNESS.Yes; for no one else knew about it.HILDA.And you said nothing?SOLNESS.Nothing.HILDA.And did not think of repairing the flue either?SOLNESS.Oh yes, I thought about it—but never got any further. Every time I intended to set to work, it seemed just as if a hand held me back. Not to-day, I thought—to-morrow; and nothing ever came of it.HILDA.But why did you keep putting it off like that?SOLNESS.Because I was revolving something in my mind. [Slowly, and in a low voice.] Through that little black crack in the chimney, I might, perhaps, force my way upwards—as a builder.HILDA.[Looking straight in front of her.] That must have been thrilling.SOLNESS.Almost irresistible—quite irresistible. For at that time it appeared to me a perfectly simple and straightforward matter. I would have had it happen in the winter-time—a little before midday. I was to be out driving Aline in the sleigh. The servants at home would have made huge fires in the stoves.HILDA.For, of course, it was to be bitterly cold that day?SOLNESS.Rather biting, yes—and they would want Aline to find it thoroughly snug and warm when she came home.HILDA.I suppose she is very chilly by nature?SOLNESS.She is. And as we drove home, we were to see the smoke.HILDA.Only the smoke?SOLNESS.The smoke first. But when we came up to the garden gate, the whole of the old timber-box was to be a rolling mass of flames.—That is how I wanted it to be, you see.HILDA.Oh, why, why could it not have happened so!SOLNESS.You may well say that, Hilda.HILDA.Well, but now listen, Mr. Solness. Are you perfectly certain that the fire was caused by that little crack in the chimney!SOLNESS.No, on the contrary—I am perfectly certain that the crack in the chimney had nothing whatever to do with the fire.HILDA.What!SOLNESS.It has been clearly ascertained that the fire broke out in a clothes-cupboard—in a totally different part of the house.HILDA.Then what is all this nonsense you are talking about the crack in the chimney!SOLNESS.May I go on talking to you a little, Hilda?HILDA.Yes, if you'll only talk sensibly—SOLNESS.I will try to. [He moves his chair nearer.HILDA.Out with it, then, Mr. Solness.SOLNESS.[Confidentially.] Don't you agree with me, Hilda, that there exist special, chosen people who have been endowed with the power and faculty if desiring a thing, craving for a thing, willing a thing—so persistently and so—so inexorably—that at last it has to happen? Don't you believe that?HILDA.[With an indefinable expression in her eyes.] If that is so, we shall see, one of these days, whetherIam one of the chosen.SOLNESS.It is not one's self alone that can do such great things. Oh, no—the helpers and the servers—they must do their part too, if it is to be of any good. But they never come of themselves. One has to call upon them very persistently—inwardly, you understand.HILDA.What are these helpers and servers?SOLNESS.Oh, we can talk about that some other time. For the present, let us keep to this business of the fire.HILDA.Don't you think that fire would have happened all the same—even without your wishing for it?SOLNESS.If the house had been old Knut Brovik's, it would never have burnt down so conveniently for him. I am sure of that; for he does not know how to call for the helpers—no, nor for the servers, either. [Rises in unrest.] So you see, Hilda—it is my fault, after all, that the lives of the two little boys had to be sacrificed. And do you think it is not my fault, too, that Aline has never been the woman she should and might have been—and that she most longed to be?HILDA.Yes, but if it is all the work of these helpers and servers—?SOLNESS.Who called for the helpers and servers? It was I! And they came and obeyed my will. [In increasing excitement.] That is what people call having the luck on your side; but I must tell you what this sort of luck feels like! It feels like a great raw place here on my breast. And the helpers and servers keep on flaying pieces of skin off other people in order to close my sore!—But still the sore is not healed—never, never! Oh, if you knew how it can sometimes gnaw and burn!HILDA.[Looks attentively at him.] You are ill, Mr. Solness. Very ill, I almost think.SOLNESS.Say mad; for that is what you mean.HILDA.No, I don't think there is much amiss with your intellect.SOLNESS.With what then? Out with it!HILDA.I wonder whether you were not sent into the world with a sickly conscience.SOLNESS.A sickly conscience? What devilry is that?HILDA.I mean that your conscience is feeble—too delicately built, as it were—hasn't strength to take a grip of things—to lift and bear what is heavy.SOLNESS.[Growls.] H'm! May I ask, then, what sort of a conscience one ought to have?HILDA.I should like your conscience to be—to be thoroughly robust.SOLNESS.Indeed? Robust, eh? Is your own conscience robust, may I ask?HILDA.Yes, I think it is. I have never noticed that it wasn't.SOLNESS.It has not been put very severely to the test, I should think.HILDA.[With a quivering of the lips.] Oh, it was no such simple matter to leave father—I am so awfully fond of him.SOLNESS.Dear me! for a month or two—HILDA.I think I shall never go home again.SOLNESS.Never? Then why did you leave him?HILDA.[Half-seriously, half-banteringly.] Have you forgotten again that the ten year are up?SOLNESS.Oh nonsense. Was anything wrong at home? Eh?HILDA.[Quite seriously.] It was this impulse within me that urged and goaded me to come—and lured and drew me on, as well.SOLNESS.[Eagerly.] There we have it! There we have it, Hilda! There is the troll in you too, as in me. For it's the troll in one, you see—it is that that calls to the powers outside us. And then you must give in—whether you will or no.HILDA.I almost think you are right, Mr. Solness.SOLNESS.[Walks about the room.] Oh, there are devils innumerable abroad in the world, Hilda, that one never sees.HILDA.Devils, too?SOLNESS.[Stops.] Good devils and bad devils; light-haired devils and black-haired devils. If only you could always tell whether it is the light or dark ones that have got hold of you! [Paces about.] Ho-ho! Then it would be simple enough!HILDA.[Follows him with her eyes.] Or if one had a really vigorous, radiantly healthy conscience—so that one dared to do what one would.SOLNESS.[Stops beside the console table.] I believe, now, that most people are just as puny creatures as I am in that respect.HILDA.I shouldn't wonder.SOLNESS.[Leaning against the table.] In the sagas—. Have you read any of the old sagas?HILDA.Oh yes! When I used to read books, I—SOLNESS.In the sagas you read about vikings, who sailed to foreign lands, and plundered and burned and killed men—HILDA.And carried off women—SOLNESS. —and kept them in captivity—HILDA. —took them home in their ships—SOLNESS. —and behaved to them like—like the very worst of trolls.HILDA.[Looks straight before her, with a half-veiled look.] I think that must have been thrilling.SOLNESS.[With a short, deep laugh.] To carry off women, eh?HILDA.To be carried off.SOLNESS.[Looks at her a moment.] Oh, indeed.HILDA.[As if breaking the thread of the conversation.] But what made you speak of these vikings, Mr. Solness?SOLNESS.Why, those fellows must have had robust consciences, if you like! When they got home again, they could eat and drink, and be as happy as children. And the women, too! They often would not leave them on any account. Can you understand that, Hilda?HILDA.Those women I can understand exceedingly well.SOLNESS.Oho! Perhaps you could do the same yourself?HILDA.Why not?SOLNESS.Live—of your own free will—with a ruffian like that?HILDA.If it was a ruffian I had come to love—SOLNESS.Could you come to love a man like that?HILDA.Good heavens, you know very well one can't choose whom one is going to love.SOLNESS.[Looks meditatively at her.] Oh no, I suppose it is the troll within one that's responsible for that.HILDA.[Half-laughing.] And all those blessed devils, that you know so well—both the light-haired and the dark-haired ones.SOLNESS.[Quietly and warmly.] Then I hope with all my heart that the devils will choose carefully for you, Hilda.HILDA.For me they have chosen already—once and for all.SOLNESS.[Looks earnestly at her.] Hilda—you are like a wild bird of the woods.HILDA.Far from it. I don't hide myself away under the bushes.SOLNESS.No, no. There is rather something of the bird of prey in you.HILDA.That is nearer it—perhaps. [Very vehemently.] And why not a bird of prey? Why should notIgo a-hunting—I, as well as the rest? Carry off the prey I want—if only I can get my claws into it, and do with it as I will.SOLNESS.Hilda—do you know what you are?HILDA.Yes, I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.SOLNESS.No. You are like a dawning day. When I look at you—I seem to be looking towards the sunrise.HILDA.Tell me, Mr. Solness—are you certain that you have never called me to you? Inwardly, you know?SOLNESS.[Softly and slowly.] I almost think I must have.HILDA.What did you want with me?SOLNESS.You are the younger generation, Hilda.HILDA.[Smiles.] That younger generation that you are so afraid of?SOLNESS.[Nods slowly.] And which, in my heart, I yearn towards so deeply.[HILDA rises, goes to the little table, and fetches RAGNARBROVIK'S portfolio.HILDA.[Holds out the portfolio to him.] We were talking of these drawings—SOLNESS.[Shortly, waving them away.] Put those things away! I have seen enough of them.HILDA.Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.SOLNESS.Write my approval on them? Never!HILDA.But the poor old man is lying at death's door! Can't you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.SOLNESS.Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that—has my fine gentleman!HILDA.Then, good heavens—if that is so—can't you tell the least little bit of a lie for once in a way?SOLNESS.A lie? [Raging.] Hilda—take those devil's drawings out of my sight!HILDA.[Draws the portfolio a little nearer to herself.] Well, well, well—don't bite me.—You talk of trolls—but I think you go on like a troll yourself. [Looks round.] Where do you keep your pen and ink?SOLNESS.There is nothing of the sort in here.HILDA.[Goes towards the door.] But in the office where that young lady is—SOLNESS.Stay where you are, Hilda!—I ought to tell a lie, you say. Oh yes, for the sake of his old father I might well do that—for in my time I have crushed him, trodden him under foot—HILDA.Him, too?SOLNESS.I needed room for myself. But this Ragnar—he must on no account be allowed to come to the front.HILDA.Poor fellow, there is surely no fear of that. If he has nothing in him—SOLNESS.[Comes closer, looks at her, and whispers.] If Ragnar Brovik gets his chance, he will strike me to the earth. Crush me—as I crushed his father.HILDA.Crush you? Has he the ability for that?SOLNESS.Yes, you may depend upon it he has the ability! He is the younger generation that stands ready to knock at my door—to make an end of Halvard Solness.HILDA.[Looks at him with quiet reproach.] And yet you would bar him out. Fie, Mr. Solness!SOLNESS.The fight I have been fighting has cost heart's blood enough.—And I am afraid, too, that the helpers and servers will not obey me any longer.HILDA.Then you must go ahead without them. There is nothing else for it.SOLNESS.It is hopeless, Hilda. The luck is bound to turn. A little sooner or a little later. Retribution is inexorable.HILDA.[In distress, putting her hands over her ears.] Don't talk like that! Do you want to kill me? To take from me what is more than my life?SOLNESS.And what is that?HILDA.The longing to see you great. To see you, with a wreath in your hand, high, high up upon a church-tower. [Calm again.] Come, out with your pencil now. You must have a pencil about you?SOLNESS.[Takes out his pocket-book.] I have one here.HILDA.[Lays the portfolio on the sofa-table.] Very well. Now let us two sit down here, Mr. Solness. [SOLNESS seats himself at the table. HILDA stands behind him, leaning over the back of the chair.] And now we well write on the drawings. We must write very, very nicely and cordially—for this horrid Ruar—or whatever his name is.SOLNESS.[Writes a few words, turns his head and looks at her.] Tell me one thing, Hilda.HILDA.Yes!SOLNESS.If you have been waiting for me all these ten years—HILDA.What then?SOLNESS.Why have you never written to me? Then I could have answered you.HILDA.[Hastily.] No, no, no! That was just what I did not want.SOLNESS.Why not?HILDA.I was afraid the whole thing might fall to pieces.—But we were going to write on the drawings, Mr. Solness.SOLNESS.So we were.HILDA.[Bends forward and looks over his shoulder while he writes.] Mind now, kindly and cordially! Oh how I hate—how I hate this Ruald—SOLNESS.[Writing.] Have you never really cared for any one, Hilda?HILDA.For any one else, I suppose you mean?SOLNESS.[Looks up at her.] For any one else, yes. Have you never? In all these ten years? Never?HILDA.Oh yes, now and then. When I was perfectly furious with you for not coming.SOLNESS.Then you did take an interest in other people, too?HILDA.A little bit—for a week or so. Good heavens, Mr. Solness, you surely know how such things come about.SOLNESS.Hilda—what is it you have come for?HILDA.Don't waste time talking. The poor old man might go and die in the meantime.SOLNESS.Answer me, Hilda. What do you want of me?HILDA.I want my kingdom.SOLNESS.H'm—He gives a rapid glance toward the door on the left, andthen goes on writing on the drawings. At the same momentMRS. SOLNESS enters.MRS. SOLNESS.Here are a few things I have got for you, Miss Wangel. The large parcels will be sent later on.HILDA.Oh, how very, very kind of you!MRS. SOLNESS.Only my simple duty. Nothing more than that.SOLNESS.[Reading over what he has written.] Aline!MRS. SOLNESS.Yes?SOLNESS.Did you notice whether the—the book-keeper was out there?MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, of course, she was there.SOLNESS.[Puts the drawings in the portfolio.] H'm—MRS. SOLNESS.She was standing at the desk, as she always is—whenIgo through the room.SOLNESS.[Rises.] Then I'll give this to her and tell her that—HILDA.[Takes the portfolio from him.] Oh, no, let me have the pleasure of doing that! [Goes to the door, but turns.] What is her name?SOLNESS.Her name is Miss Fosli.HILDA.Pooh, that sounds so cold! Her Christian name, I mean?SOLNESS.Kaia—I believe.HILDA.[Opens the door and calls out.] Kaia, come in here! Make haste! Mr. Solness wants to speak to you.KAIA FOSLI appears at the door.KAIA.[Looking at him in alarm.] Here I am—?HILDA.[Handing her the portfolio.] See her, Kaia! You can take this home; Mr. Solness was written on them now.KAIA.Oh, at last!SOLNESS.Give them to the old man as soon as you can.KAIA.I will go straight home with them.SOLNESS.Yes, do. Now Ragnar will have a chance of building for himself.KAIA.Oh, may he come and thank you for all—?SOLNESS.[Harshly.] I won't have any thanks! Tell him that from me.KAIA.Yes, I will—SOLNESS.And tell him at the same time that henceforward I do not require his services—nor yours either.KAIA.[Softly and quiveringly.] Not mine either?SOLNESS.You will have other things to think of now, and to attend to; and that is a very good thing for you. Well, go home with the drawings now, Miss Fosli. At once! Do you hear?KAIA.[As before.] Yes, Mr. Solness. [She goes out.MRS. SOLNESS.Heavens! what deceitful eyes she has.SOLNESS.She? That poor little creature?MRS. SOLNESS.Oh—I can see what I can see, Halvard.——Are you really dismissing them?SOLNESS.Yes.MRS. SOLNESS.Her as well?SOLNESS.Was not that what you wished?MRS. SOLNESS.But how can you get on without her—? Oh well, no doubt you have some one else in reserve, Halvard.HILDA.[Playfully.] Well,Ifor one am not the person to stand at a desk.SOLNESS.Never mind, never mind—it will be all right, Aline. Now all you have to do is think about moving into our new home—as quickly as you can. This evening we will hang up the wreath—[Turns to HILDA.] What do you say to that, Miss Hilda?HILDA.[Looks at him with sparkling eyes.] It will be splendid to see you so high up once more.SOLNESS.Me!MRS. SOLNESS.For Heaven's sake, Miss Wangel, don't imagine such a thing! My husband!—when he always gets so dizzy!HILDA.He get dizzy! No, I know quite well he does not!MRS. SOLNESS.Oh yes, indeed he does.HILDA.But I have seen him with my own eyes right up at the top of a high church-tower!MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, I hear people talk of that; but it is utterly impossible—SOLNESS.[Vehemently.] Impossible—impossible, yes! But there I stood all the same!MRS. SOLNESS.O, how can you say so, Halvard? Why, you can't even bear to go out on the second-storey balcony here. You have always been like that.SOLNESS.You may perhaps see something different this evening.MRS. SOLNESS.[In alarm.] No, no, no! Please God I shall never see that. I will write at once to the doctor—and I am sure he won't let you do it.SOLNESS.Why, Aline—!MRS. SOLNESS.Oh, you know you're ill, Halvard. This proves it! Oh God—Oh God![She goes hastily out to the right.HILDA.[Looks intently at him.] Is it so, or is it not?SOLNESS.That I turn dizzy?HILDA.That my master builder dares not—cannot—climb as high as he builds?SOLNESS.Is that the way you look at it?HILDA.Yes.SOLNESS.I believe there is scarcely a corner in me that is safe from you.HILDA.[Looks towards the bow-window.] Up there, then. Right up there—SOLNESS.[Approaches her.] You might have the topmost room in the tower, Hilda—there you might live like a princess.HILDA.[Indefinably, between earnest and jest.] Yes, that is what you promised me.SOLNESS.Did I really?HILDA.Fie, Mr. Solness! You said I should be a princess, and that you would give me a kingdom. And then you went and—Well!SOLNESS.[Cautiously.] Are you quite certain that this is not a dream—a fancy, that has fixed itself in your mind?HILDA.[Sharply.] Do you mean that you did not do it?SOLNESS.I scarcely know myself. [More softly.] But now I know so much for certain, that I—HILDA.That you—? Say it at once!SOLNESS. —that I ought to have done it.HILDA.[Exclaims with animation.] Don't tell me you can ever be dizzy!SOLNESS.This evening, then, we will hang up the wreath—Princess Hilda.HILDA.[With a bitter curve of the lips.] Over your new home, yes.SOLNESS.Over the new house, which will never be a home for me.[He goes out through the garden door.HILDA.[Looks straight in front of her with a far-away expression, and whispers to herself. The only words audible are:]—frightfully thrilling—ACT THIRD.The large broad verandah of SOLNESS'S dwelling-house. Partof the house, with outer door leading to the verandah, isseen to the left. A railing along the verandah to the right.At the back, from the end of the verandah, a flight of stepsleads down to the garden below. Tall old trees in thegarden spread their branches over the verandah and towardsthe house. Far to the right, in among the trees, a glimpseis caught of the lower part of the new villa, with scaffoldinground so much as is seen of the tower. In the backgroundthe garden is bounded by an old wooden fence. Outside thefence, a street with low, tumble-down cottages.Evening sky with sun-lit clouds.On the verandah, a garden bench stands along the wall of thehouse, and in front of the bench a long table. On the otherside of the table, an arm-chair and some stools. All thefurniture is of wicker-work.MRS. SOLNESS, wrapped in a large white crepe shawl, sitsresting in the arm-chair and gazes over to the right.Shortly after, HILDA WANGEL comes up the flight of stepsfrom the garden. She is dressed as in the last act, andwears her hat. She has in her bodice a little nosegay ofsmall common flowers.MRS. SOLNESS.[Turning her head a little.] Have you been round the garden, Miss Wangel?HILDA.Yes, I have been taking a look at it.MRS. SOLNESS.And found some flowers too, I see.HILDA.Yes, indeed! There are such heaps of them in among the bushes.MRS. SOLNESS.Are there, really? Still? You see I scarcely ever go there.HILDA.[Closer.] What! Don't you take a run down into the garden every day, then?MRS. SOLNESS.[With a faint smile.] I don't "run" anywhere, nowadays.HILDA.Well, but do you not go down now and then to look at all the lovely things there?MRS. SOLNESS.It has all become so strange to me. I am almost afraid to see it again.HILDA.Your own garden!MRS. SOLNESS.I don't feel that it is mine any longer.HILDA.What do you mean—?MRS. SOLNESS.No, no, it is not—not as it was in my mother's and father's time. They have taken away so much—so much of the garden, Miss Wangel. Fancy—they have parcelled it out—and built houses for strangers—people that I don't know. And they can sit and look in upon me from their windows.HILDA.[With a bright expression.] Mrs. Solness!MRS. SOLNESS.Yes?HILDA.May I stay here with you a little?MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, by all means, if you care to.[HILDA moves a stool close to the arm-chair and sits down.HILDA.Ah—here one can sit and sun oneself like a cat.MRS. SOLNESS.[Lays her hand softly on HILDA'S neck.] It is nice of you to be willing to sit with me. I thought you wanted to go in to my husband.HILDA.What should I want with him?MRS. SOLNESS.To help him, I thought.HILDA.No, thank you. And besides, he is not in. He is over there with his workmen. But he looked so fierce that I did not dare to talk to him.MRS. SOLNESS.He is so kind and gentle in reality.HILDA.He!MRS. SOLNESS.You do not really know him yet, Miss Wangel.HILDA.[Looks affectionately at her.] Are you pleased at the thought of moving over to the new house?MRS. SOLNESS.I ought to be pleased; for it is what Halvard wants—HILDA.Oh, not just on that account, surely?MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, yes, Miss Wangel; for it is only my duty to submit myself to him. But very often it is dreadfully difficult to force one's mind to obedience.HILDA.Yes, that must be difficult indeed.MRS. SOLNESS.I can tell you it is—when one has so many faults as I have—HILDA.When one has gone through so much trouble as you have—MRS. SOLNESS.How do you know about that?HILDA.Your husband told me.MRS. SOLNESS.To me he very seldom mentions these things.—Yes, I can tell you I have gone through more than enough trouble in my life, Miss Wangel.HILDA.[Looks sympathetically at her and nods slowly.] Poor Mrs. Solness. First of all there was the fire—MRS. SOLNESS.[With a sigh.] Yes, everything that was mine was burnt.HILDA.And then came what was worse.MRS. SOLNESS.[Looking inquiringly at her.] Worse?HILDA.The worst of all.MRS. SOLNESS.What do you mean?HILDA.[Softly.] You lost the two little boys.MRS. SOLNESS.Oh, yes, the boys. But, you see, that was a thing apart. That was a dispensation of Providence; and in such things one can only bow in submission—yes, and be thankful, too.HILDA.Then you are so?MRS. SOLNESS.Not always, I am sorry to say. I know well enough that it is my duty—but all the same I cannot.HILDA.No, no, I think that is only natural.MRS. SOLNESS.And often and often I have to remind myself that it was a righteous punishment for me—HILDA.Why?MRS. SOLNESS.Because I had not fortitude enough in misfortune.HILDA.But I don't see that—MRS. SOLNESS.Oh, no, no, Miss Wangel—do not talk to me any more about the two little boys. We ought to feel nothing but joy in thinking of them; for they are so happy—so happy now. No, it is the small losses in life that cut one to the heart—the loss of all that other people look upon as almost nothing.HILDA.[Lays her arms on MRS. SOLNESS'S knees, and looks up at her affectionately.] Dear Mrs. Solness—tell me what things you mean!MRS. SOLNESS.As I say, only little things. All the old portraits were burnt on the walls. And all the old silk dresses were burnt, what had belonged to the family for generations and generations. And all mother's and grandmother's lace—that was burnt, too. And only think—the jewels, too! [Sadly.] And then all the dolls.HILDA.The dolls?MRS. SOLNESS.[Choking with tears.] I had nine lovely dolls.HILDA.And they were burnt too?MRS. SOLNESS.All of them. Oh, it was hard—so hard for me.HILDA.Had you put by all these dolls, then? Ever since you were little?MRS. SOLNESS.I had not put them by. The dolls and I had gone on living together.HILDA.After you were grown up?MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, long after that.HILDA.After you were married, too?MRS. SOLNESS.Oh yes, indeed. So long as he did not see it—. But they were all burnt up, poor things. No one thought of saving them. Oh, it is so miserable to think of. You mustn't laugh at me, Miss Wangel.HILDA.I am not laughing in the least.MRS. SOLNESS.For you see, in a certain sense, there was life in them, too. I carried them under my heart—like little unborn children.DR. HERDAL, with his hat in his hand, comes out through thedoor, and observes MRS. SOLNESS. and HILDA.DR. HERDAL.Well, Mrs. Solness, so you are sitting out here catching cold?MRS. SOLNESS.I find it so pleasant and warm here to-day.DR. HERDAL.Yes, yes. But is there anything going on here? I got a note from you.MRS. SOLNESS.[Rises.] Yes, there is something I must talk to you about.DR. HERDAL.Very well; then perhaps we better go in. [To HILDA.] Still in your mountaineering dress, Miss Wangel?HILDA.[Gaily, rising.] Yes—in full uniform! But to-day I am not going climbing and breaking my neck. We two will stop quietly below and look on, doctor.DR. HERDAL.What are we to look on at?MRS. SOLNESS.[Softly, in alarm, to HILDA.] Hush, hush—for God's sake! He is coming! Try to get that idea out of his head. And let us be friends, Miss Wangel. Don't you think we can?HILDA.[Throws her arms impetuously round MRS. SOLNESS'S neck.] Oh, if we only could!MRS. SOLNESS.[Gently disengages herself.] There, there, there! There he comes, doctor. Let me have a word with you.DR. HERDAL.Is it about him?MRS. SOLNESS.Yes, to be sure it's about him. Do come in.She and the doctor enter the house. Next moment SOLNESScomes up from the garden by the flight of steps. A seriouslook comes over HILDA'S face.SOLNESS.[Glances at the house-door, which is closed cautiously from within.] Have you noticed, Hilda, that as soon as I come, she goes?HILDA.I have noticed that as soon as you come, you make her go.SOLNESS.Perhaps so. But I cannot help it. [Looks observantly at her.] Are you cold, Hilda? I think you look cold.HILDA.I have just come up out of a tomb.SOLNESS.What do you mean by that?HILDA.That I have got chilled through and through, Mr. Solness.SOLNESS.[Slowly.] I believe I understand—HILDA.What brings you up here just now?SOLNESS.I caught sight of you from over there.HILDA.But then you must have seen her too?SOLNESS.I knew she would go at once if I came.HILDA.Is it very painful for you that she should avoid you in this way?SOLNESS.In one sense, it's a relief as well.HILDA.Not to have her before your eyes?SOLNESS.Yes.HILDA.Not to be always seeing how heavily the loss of the little boys weighs upon her?SOLNESS.Yes. Chiefly that.
[He moves a chair nearer to HILDA and sits down.
[Impatiently, taps on her knee.] Well, now for the crack in the chimney!
I had noticed the split in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I went up into the attic, I looked to see if it was still there.
And it was?
Yes; for no one else knew about it.
And you said nothing?
Nothing.
And did not think of repairing the flue either?
Oh yes, I thought about it—but never got any further. Every time I intended to set to work, it seemed just as if a hand held me back. Not to-day, I thought—to-morrow; and nothing ever came of it.
But why did you keep putting it off like that?
Because I was revolving something in my mind. [Slowly, and in a low voice.] Through that little black crack in the chimney, I might, perhaps, force my way upwards—as a builder.
[Looking straight in front of her.] That must have been thrilling.
Almost irresistible—quite irresistible. For at that time it appeared to me a perfectly simple and straightforward matter. I would have had it happen in the winter-time—a little before midday. I was to be out driving Aline in the sleigh. The servants at home would have made huge fires in the stoves.
For, of course, it was to be bitterly cold that day?
Rather biting, yes—and they would want Aline to find it thoroughly snug and warm when she came home.
I suppose she is very chilly by nature?
She is. And as we drove home, we were to see the smoke.
Only the smoke?
The smoke first. But when we came up to the garden gate, the whole of the old timber-box was to be a rolling mass of flames.—That is how I wanted it to be, you see.
Oh, why, why could it not have happened so!
You may well say that, Hilda.
Well, but now listen, Mr. Solness. Are you perfectly certain that the fire was caused by that little crack in the chimney!
No, on the contrary—I am perfectly certain that the crack in the chimney had nothing whatever to do with the fire.
What!
It has been clearly ascertained that the fire broke out in a clothes-cupboard—in a totally different part of the house.
Then what is all this nonsense you are talking about the crack in the chimney!
May I go on talking to you a little, Hilda?
Yes, if you'll only talk sensibly—
I will try to. [He moves his chair nearer.
Out with it, then, Mr. Solness.
[Confidentially.] Don't you agree with me, Hilda, that there exist special, chosen people who have been endowed with the power and faculty if desiring a thing, craving for a thing, willing a thing—so persistently and so—so inexorably—that at last it has to happen? Don't you believe that?
[With an indefinable expression in her eyes.] If that is so, we shall see, one of these days, whetherIam one of the chosen.
It is not one's self alone that can do such great things. Oh, no—the helpers and the servers—they must do their part too, if it is to be of any good. But they never come of themselves. One has to call upon them very persistently—inwardly, you understand.
What are these helpers and servers?
Oh, we can talk about that some other time. For the present, let us keep to this business of the fire.
Don't you think that fire would have happened all the same—even without your wishing for it?
If the house had been old Knut Brovik's, it would never have burnt down so conveniently for him. I am sure of that; for he does not know how to call for the helpers—no, nor for the servers, either. [Rises in unrest.] So you see, Hilda—it is my fault, after all, that the lives of the two little boys had to be sacrificed. And do you think it is not my fault, too, that Aline has never been the woman she should and might have been—and that she most longed to be?
Yes, but if it is all the work of these helpers and servers—?
Who called for the helpers and servers? It was I! And they came and obeyed my will. [In increasing excitement.] That is what people call having the luck on your side; but I must tell you what this sort of luck feels like! It feels like a great raw place here on my breast. And the helpers and servers keep on flaying pieces of skin off other people in order to close my sore!—But still the sore is not healed—never, never! Oh, if you knew how it can sometimes gnaw and burn!
[Looks attentively at him.] You are ill, Mr. Solness. Very ill, I almost think.
Say mad; for that is what you mean.
No, I don't think there is much amiss with your intellect.
With what then? Out with it!
I wonder whether you were not sent into the world with a sickly conscience.
A sickly conscience? What devilry is that?
I mean that your conscience is feeble—too delicately built, as it were—hasn't strength to take a grip of things—to lift and bear what is heavy.
[Growls.] H'm! May I ask, then, what sort of a conscience one ought to have?
I should like your conscience to be—to be thoroughly robust.
Indeed? Robust, eh? Is your own conscience robust, may I ask?
Yes, I think it is. I have never noticed that it wasn't.
It has not been put very severely to the test, I should think.
[With a quivering of the lips.] Oh, it was no such simple matter to leave father—I am so awfully fond of him.
Dear me! for a month or two—
I think I shall never go home again.
Never? Then why did you leave him?
[Half-seriously, half-banteringly.] Have you forgotten again that the ten year are up?
Oh nonsense. Was anything wrong at home? Eh?
[Quite seriously.] It was this impulse within me that urged and goaded me to come—and lured and drew me on, as well.
[Eagerly.] There we have it! There we have it, Hilda! There is the troll in you too, as in me. For it's the troll in one, you see—it is that that calls to the powers outside us. And then you must give in—whether you will or no.
I almost think you are right, Mr. Solness.
[Walks about the room.] Oh, there are devils innumerable abroad in the world, Hilda, that one never sees.
Devils, too?
[Stops.] Good devils and bad devils; light-haired devils and black-haired devils. If only you could always tell whether it is the light or dark ones that have got hold of you! [Paces about.] Ho-ho! Then it would be simple enough!
[Follows him with her eyes.] Or if one had a really vigorous, radiantly healthy conscience—so that one dared to do what one would.
[Stops beside the console table.] I believe, now, that most people are just as puny creatures as I am in that respect.
I shouldn't wonder.
[Leaning against the table.] In the sagas—. Have you read any of the old sagas?
Oh yes! When I used to read books, I—
In the sagas you read about vikings, who sailed to foreign lands, and plundered and burned and killed men—
And carried off women—
SOLNESS. —and kept them in captivity—
HILDA. —took them home in their ships—
SOLNESS. —and behaved to them like—like the very worst of trolls.
[Looks straight before her, with a half-veiled look.] I think that must have been thrilling.
[With a short, deep laugh.] To carry off women, eh?
To be carried off.
[Looks at her a moment.] Oh, indeed.
[As if breaking the thread of the conversation.] But what made you speak of these vikings, Mr. Solness?
Why, those fellows must have had robust consciences, if you like! When they got home again, they could eat and drink, and be as happy as children. And the women, too! They often would not leave them on any account. Can you understand that, Hilda?
Those women I can understand exceedingly well.
Oho! Perhaps you could do the same yourself?
Why not?
Live—of your own free will—with a ruffian like that?
If it was a ruffian I had come to love—
Could you come to love a man like that?
Good heavens, you know very well one can't choose whom one is going to love.
[Looks meditatively at her.] Oh no, I suppose it is the troll within one that's responsible for that.
[Half-laughing.] And all those blessed devils, that you know so well—both the light-haired and the dark-haired ones.
[Quietly and warmly.] Then I hope with all my heart that the devils will choose carefully for you, Hilda.
For me they have chosen already—once and for all.
[Looks earnestly at her.] Hilda—you are like a wild bird of the woods.
Far from it. I don't hide myself away under the bushes.
No, no. There is rather something of the bird of prey in you.
That is nearer it—perhaps. [Very vehemently.] And why not a bird of prey? Why should notIgo a-hunting—I, as well as the rest? Carry off the prey I want—if only I can get my claws into it, and do with it as I will.
Hilda—do you know what you are?
Yes, I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.
No. You are like a dawning day. When I look at you—I seem to be looking towards the sunrise.
Tell me, Mr. Solness—are you certain that you have never called me to you? Inwardly, you know?
[Softly and slowly.] I almost think I must have.
What did you want with me?
You are the younger generation, Hilda.
[Smiles.] That younger generation that you are so afraid of?
[Nods slowly.] And which, in my heart, I yearn towards so deeply.
[HILDA rises, goes to the little table, and fetches RAGNARBROVIK'S portfolio.
[Holds out the portfolio to him.] We were talking of these drawings—
[Shortly, waving them away.] Put those things away! I have seen enough of them.
Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.
Write my approval on them? Never!
But the poor old man is lying at death's door! Can't you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.
Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that—has my fine gentleman!
Then, good heavens—if that is so—can't you tell the least little bit of a lie for once in a way?
A lie? [Raging.] Hilda—take those devil's drawings out of my sight!
[Draws the portfolio a little nearer to herself.] Well, well, well—don't bite me.—You talk of trolls—but I think you go on like a troll yourself. [Looks round.] Where do you keep your pen and ink?
There is nothing of the sort in here.
[Goes towards the door.] But in the office where that young lady is—
Stay where you are, Hilda!—I ought to tell a lie, you say. Oh yes, for the sake of his old father I might well do that—for in my time I have crushed him, trodden him under foot—
Him, too?
I needed room for myself. But this Ragnar—he must on no account be allowed to come to the front.
Poor fellow, there is surely no fear of that. If he has nothing in him—
[Comes closer, looks at her, and whispers.] If Ragnar Brovik gets his chance, he will strike me to the earth. Crush me—as I crushed his father.
Crush you? Has he the ability for that?
Yes, you may depend upon it he has the ability! He is the younger generation that stands ready to knock at my door—to make an end of Halvard Solness.
[Looks at him with quiet reproach.] And yet you would bar him out. Fie, Mr. Solness!
The fight I have been fighting has cost heart's blood enough.—And I am afraid, too, that the helpers and servers will not obey me any longer.
Then you must go ahead without them. There is nothing else for it.
It is hopeless, Hilda. The luck is bound to turn. A little sooner or a little later. Retribution is inexorable.
[In distress, putting her hands over her ears.] Don't talk like that! Do you want to kill me? To take from me what is more than my life?
And what is that?
The longing to see you great. To see you, with a wreath in your hand, high, high up upon a church-tower. [Calm again.] Come, out with your pencil now. You must have a pencil about you?
[Takes out his pocket-book.] I have one here.
[Lays the portfolio on the sofa-table.] Very well. Now let us two sit down here, Mr. Solness. [SOLNESS seats himself at the table. HILDA stands behind him, leaning over the back of the chair.] And now we well write on the drawings. We must write very, very nicely and cordially—for this horrid Ruar—or whatever his name is.
[Writes a few words, turns his head and looks at her.] Tell me one thing, Hilda.
Yes!
If you have been waiting for me all these ten years—
What then?
Why have you never written to me? Then I could have answered you.
[Hastily.] No, no, no! That was just what I did not want.
Why not?
I was afraid the whole thing might fall to pieces.—But we were going to write on the drawings, Mr. Solness.
So we were.
[Bends forward and looks over his shoulder while he writes.] Mind now, kindly and cordially! Oh how I hate—how I hate this Ruald—
[Writing.] Have you never really cared for any one, Hilda?
For any one else, I suppose you mean?
[Looks up at her.] For any one else, yes. Have you never? In all these ten years? Never?
Oh yes, now and then. When I was perfectly furious with you for not coming.
Then you did take an interest in other people, too?
A little bit—for a week or so. Good heavens, Mr. Solness, you surely know how such things come about.
Hilda—what is it you have come for?
Don't waste time talking. The poor old man might go and die in the meantime.
Answer me, Hilda. What do you want of me?
I want my kingdom.
H'm—
He gives a rapid glance toward the door on the left, andthen goes on writing on the drawings. At the same momentMRS. SOLNESS enters.
Here are a few things I have got for you, Miss Wangel. The large parcels will be sent later on.
Oh, how very, very kind of you!
Only my simple duty. Nothing more than that.
[Reading over what he has written.] Aline!
Yes?
Did you notice whether the—the book-keeper was out there?
Yes, of course, she was there.
[Puts the drawings in the portfolio.] H'm—
She was standing at the desk, as she always is—whenIgo through the room.
[Rises.] Then I'll give this to her and tell her that—
[Takes the portfolio from him.] Oh, no, let me have the pleasure of doing that! [Goes to the door, but turns.] What is her name?
Her name is Miss Fosli.
Pooh, that sounds so cold! Her Christian name, I mean?
Kaia—I believe.
[Opens the door and calls out.] Kaia, come in here! Make haste! Mr. Solness wants to speak to you.
KAIA FOSLI appears at the door.
[Looking at him in alarm.] Here I am—?
[Handing her the portfolio.] See her, Kaia! You can take this home; Mr. Solness was written on them now.
Oh, at last!
Give them to the old man as soon as you can.
I will go straight home with them.
Yes, do. Now Ragnar will have a chance of building for himself.
Oh, may he come and thank you for all—?
[Harshly.] I won't have any thanks! Tell him that from me.
Yes, I will—
And tell him at the same time that henceforward I do not require his services—nor yours either.
[Softly and quiveringly.] Not mine either?
You will have other things to think of now, and to attend to; and that is a very good thing for you. Well, go home with the drawings now, Miss Fosli. At once! Do you hear?
[As before.] Yes, Mr. Solness. [She goes out.
Heavens! what deceitful eyes she has.
She? That poor little creature?
Oh—I can see what I can see, Halvard.——Are you really dismissing them?
Yes.
Her as well?
Was not that what you wished?
But how can you get on without her—? Oh well, no doubt you have some one else in reserve, Halvard.
[Playfully.] Well,Ifor one am not the person to stand at a desk.
Never mind, never mind—it will be all right, Aline. Now all you have to do is think about moving into our new home—as quickly as you can. This evening we will hang up the wreath—[Turns to HILDA.] What do you say to that, Miss Hilda?
[Looks at him with sparkling eyes.] It will be splendid to see you so high up once more.
Me!
For Heaven's sake, Miss Wangel, don't imagine such a thing! My husband!—when he always gets so dizzy!
He get dizzy! No, I know quite well he does not!
Oh yes, indeed he does.
But I have seen him with my own eyes right up at the top of a high church-tower!
Yes, I hear people talk of that; but it is utterly impossible—
[Vehemently.] Impossible—impossible, yes! But there I stood all the same!
O, how can you say so, Halvard? Why, you can't even bear to go out on the second-storey balcony here. You have always been like that.
You may perhaps see something different this evening.
[In alarm.] No, no, no! Please God I shall never see that. I will write at once to the doctor—and I am sure he won't let you do it.
Why, Aline—!
Oh, you know you're ill, Halvard. This proves it! Oh God—Oh God!
[She goes hastily out to the right.
[Looks intently at him.] Is it so, or is it not?
That I turn dizzy?
That my master builder dares not—cannot—climb as high as he builds?
Is that the way you look at it?
Yes.
I believe there is scarcely a corner in me that is safe from you.
[Looks towards the bow-window.] Up there, then. Right up there—
[Approaches her.] You might have the topmost room in the tower, Hilda—there you might live like a princess.
[Indefinably, between earnest and jest.] Yes, that is what you promised me.
Did I really?
Fie, Mr. Solness! You said I should be a princess, and that you would give me a kingdom. And then you went and—Well!
[Cautiously.] Are you quite certain that this is not a dream—a fancy, that has fixed itself in your mind?
[Sharply.] Do you mean that you did not do it?
I scarcely know myself. [More softly.] But now I know so much for certain, that I—
That you—? Say it at once!
SOLNESS. —that I ought to have done it.
[Exclaims with animation.] Don't tell me you can ever be dizzy!
This evening, then, we will hang up the wreath—Princess Hilda.
[With a bitter curve of the lips.] Over your new home, yes.
Over the new house, which will never be a home for me.
[He goes out through the garden door.
[Looks straight in front of her with a far-away expression, and whispers to herself. The only words audible are:]—frightfully thrilling—
The large broad verandah of SOLNESS'S dwelling-house. Partof the house, with outer door leading to the verandah, isseen to the left. A railing along the verandah to the right.At the back, from the end of the verandah, a flight of stepsleads down to the garden below. Tall old trees in thegarden spread their branches over the verandah and towardsthe house. Far to the right, in among the trees, a glimpseis caught of the lower part of the new villa, with scaffoldinground so much as is seen of the tower. In the backgroundthe garden is bounded by an old wooden fence. Outside thefence, a street with low, tumble-down cottages.Evening sky with sun-lit clouds.On the verandah, a garden bench stands along the wall of thehouse, and in front of the bench a long table. On the otherside of the table, an arm-chair and some stools. All thefurniture is of wicker-work.MRS. SOLNESS, wrapped in a large white crepe shawl, sitsresting in the arm-chair and gazes over to the right.Shortly after, HILDA WANGEL comes up the flight of stepsfrom the garden. She is dressed as in the last act, andwears her hat. She has in her bodice a little nosegay ofsmall common flowers.
[Turning her head a little.] Have you been round the garden, Miss Wangel?
Yes, I have been taking a look at it.
And found some flowers too, I see.
Yes, indeed! There are such heaps of them in among the bushes.
Are there, really? Still? You see I scarcely ever go there.
[Closer.] What! Don't you take a run down into the garden every day, then?
[With a faint smile.] I don't "run" anywhere, nowadays.
Well, but do you not go down now and then to look at all the lovely things there?
It has all become so strange to me. I am almost afraid to see it again.
Your own garden!
I don't feel that it is mine any longer.
What do you mean—?
No, no, it is not—not as it was in my mother's and father's time. They have taken away so much—so much of the garden, Miss Wangel. Fancy—they have parcelled it out—and built houses for strangers—people that I don't know. And they can sit and look in upon me from their windows.
[With a bright expression.] Mrs. Solness!
Yes?
May I stay here with you a little?
Yes, by all means, if you care to.
[HILDA moves a stool close to the arm-chair and sits down.
Ah—here one can sit and sun oneself like a cat.
[Lays her hand softly on HILDA'S neck.] It is nice of you to be willing to sit with me. I thought you wanted to go in to my husband.
What should I want with him?
To help him, I thought.
No, thank you. And besides, he is not in. He is over there with his workmen. But he looked so fierce that I did not dare to talk to him.
He is so kind and gentle in reality.
He!
You do not really know him yet, Miss Wangel.
[Looks affectionately at her.] Are you pleased at the thought of moving over to the new house?
I ought to be pleased; for it is what Halvard wants—
Oh, not just on that account, surely?
Yes, yes, Miss Wangel; for it is only my duty to submit myself to him. But very often it is dreadfully difficult to force one's mind to obedience.
Yes, that must be difficult indeed.
I can tell you it is—when one has so many faults as I have—
When one has gone through so much trouble as you have—
How do you know about that?
Your husband told me.
To me he very seldom mentions these things.—Yes, I can tell you I have gone through more than enough trouble in my life, Miss Wangel.
[Looks sympathetically at her and nods slowly.] Poor Mrs. Solness. First of all there was the fire—
[With a sigh.] Yes, everything that was mine was burnt.
And then came what was worse.
[Looking inquiringly at her.] Worse?
The worst of all.
What do you mean?
[Softly.] You lost the two little boys.
Oh, yes, the boys. But, you see, that was a thing apart. That was a dispensation of Providence; and in such things one can only bow in submission—yes, and be thankful, too.
Then you are so?
Not always, I am sorry to say. I know well enough that it is my duty—but all the same I cannot.
No, no, I think that is only natural.
And often and often I have to remind myself that it was a righteous punishment for me—
Why?
Because I had not fortitude enough in misfortune.
But I don't see that—
Oh, no, no, Miss Wangel—do not talk to me any more about the two little boys. We ought to feel nothing but joy in thinking of them; for they are so happy—so happy now. No, it is the small losses in life that cut one to the heart—the loss of all that other people look upon as almost nothing.
[Lays her arms on MRS. SOLNESS'S knees, and looks up at her affectionately.] Dear Mrs. Solness—tell me what things you mean!
As I say, only little things. All the old portraits were burnt on the walls. And all the old silk dresses were burnt, what had belonged to the family for generations and generations. And all mother's and grandmother's lace—that was burnt, too. And only think—the jewels, too! [Sadly.] And then all the dolls.
The dolls?
[Choking with tears.] I had nine lovely dolls.
And they were burnt too?
All of them. Oh, it was hard—so hard for me.
Had you put by all these dolls, then? Ever since you were little?
I had not put them by. The dolls and I had gone on living together.
After you were grown up?
Yes, long after that.
After you were married, too?
Oh yes, indeed. So long as he did not see it—. But they were all burnt up, poor things. No one thought of saving them. Oh, it is so miserable to think of. You mustn't laugh at me, Miss Wangel.
I am not laughing in the least.
For you see, in a certain sense, there was life in them, too. I carried them under my heart—like little unborn children.
DR. HERDAL, with his hat in his hand, comes out through thedoor, and observes MRS. SOLNESS. and HILDA.
Well, Mrs. Solness, so you are sitting out here catching cold?
I find it so pleasant and warm here to-day.
Yes, yes. But is there anything going on here? I got a note from you.
[Rises.] Yes, there is something I must talk to you about.
Very well; then perhaps we better go in. [To HILDA.] Still in your mountaineering dress, Miss Wangel?
[Gaily, rising.] Yes—in full uniform! But to-day I am not going climbing and breaking my neck. We two will stop quietly below and look on, doctor.
What are we to look on at?
[Softly, in alarm, to HILDA.] Hush, hush—for God's sake! He is coming! Try to get that idea out of his head. And let us be friends, Miss Wangel. Don't you think we can?
[Throws her arms impetuously round MRS. SOLNESS'S neck.] Oh, if we only could!
[Gently disengages herself.] There, there, there! There he comes, doctor. Let me have a word with you.
Is it about him?
Yes, to be sure it's about him. Do come in.
She and the doctor enter the house. Next moment SOLNESScomes up from the garden by the flight of steps. A seriouslook comes over HILDA'S face.
[Glances at the house-door, which is closed cautiously from within.] Have you noticed, Hilda, that as soon as I come, she goes?
I have noticed that as soon as you come, you make her go.
Perhaps so. But I cannot help it. [Looks observantly at her.] Are you cold, Hilda? I think you look cold.
I have just come up out of a tomb.
What do you mean by that?
That I have got chilled through and through, Mr. Solness.
[Slowly.] I believe I understand—
What brings you up here just now?
I caught sight of you from over there.
But then you must have seen her too?
I knew she would go at once if I came.
Is it very painful for you that she should avoid you in this way?
In one sense, it's a relief as well.
Not to have her before your eyes?
Yes.
Not to be always seeing how heavily the loss of the little boys weighs upon her?
Yes. Chiefly that.