ACT FIFTH.

Gregers.

[Uneasily.] How couldthatbe?

Hedvig.

Mother might have found me. And perhaps father has just got to know it; I've read of such things.

Gregers.

Well, but if it were so——

Hedvig.

I think he might be just as fond of me for all that. Yes, fonder almost. We got the wild duck in a present, you know, and I love it so dearly all the same.

Gregers.

[Turning the conversation.] Ah, the wild duck, by-the-bye! Let us talk about the wild duck a little,Hedvig.

Hedvig.

The poor wild duck! He doesn’t want to see it any more either. Only think, he wanted to wring its neck!

Gregers.

Oh, he won’t do that.

Hedvig.

No; but he said he would like to. And I think it was horrid of father to say it; for I pray for the wild duck every night, and ask that it may be preserved from death and all that is evil.

Gregers.

[Looking at her.] Do you say your prayers every night?

Hedvig.

Yes.

Gregers.

Who taught you to do that?

Hedvig.

I myself; one time when father was very ill, and had leeches on his neck, and said that death was staring him in the face.

Gregers.

Well?

Hedvig.

Then I prayed for him as I lay in bed; and since then I have always kept it up.

Gregers.

And now you pray for the wild duck too?

Hedvig.

I thought it was best to bring in the wild duck; for she was so weakly at first.

Gregers.

Do you pray in the morning, too?

Hedvig.

No, of course not.

Gregers.

Why not in the morning as well?

Hedvig.

In the morning it’s light, you know, and there’s nothing in particular to be afraid of.

Gregers.

And your father was going to wring the neck of the wild duck that you love so dearly?

Hedvig.

No; he said he ought to wring its neck, but he would spare it for my sake; and that was kind of father.

Gregers.

[Coming a little nearer.] But suppose you were to sacrifice the wild duck of your own free will forhissake.

Hedvig.

[Rising.] The wild duck!

Gregers.

Suppose you were to make a free-will offering, for his sake, of the dearest treasure you have in the world!

Hedvig.

Do you thinkthatwould do any good?

Gregers.

Try it, Hedvig.

Hedvig.

[Softly, with flashing eyes.] Yes, I will try it.

Gregers.

Have you really the courage for it, do you think?

Hedvig.

I'll ask grandfather to shoot the wild duck for me.

Gregers.

Yes, do. But not a word to your mother about it.

Hedvig.

Why not?

Gregers.

She doesn’t understand us.

Hedvig.

The wild duck! I'll try it to-morrowmorning!morning!

[Ginacomes in by the passage door.

Hedvig.

[Going towards her.] Did you find him, mother?

Gina.

No, but I heard as he had called and taken Relling with him.

Gregers.

Are you sure of that?

Gina.

Yes, the porter’s wife said so. Molvik went with them too, she said.

Gregers.

This evening, when his mind so sorely needs to wrestle in solitude——!

Gina.

[Takes off her things.] Yes, men are strange creatures, so they are. The Lord only knows where Relling has dragged him to! I ran over to Madam Eriksen’s, but they weren’tthere.

Hedvig.

[Struggling to keep back her tears.] Oh, if he should never come home any more!

Gregers.

Hewillcome home again. I shall have news to give him to-morrow; and then you shall seehowhe comes home. You may rely upon that, Hedvig, and sleep in peace. Good-night.

[He goes out by the passage door.

Hedvig.

[Throws herself sobbing onGina’sneck.] Mother, mother!

Gina.

[Pats her shoulder and sighs.] Ah yes; Relling was right, he was. That’s what comes of it when crazy creatures go about presenting the claims of the—what-you-may-call-it.

ACT FIFTH.

Hialmar Ekdal’sstudio. Cold, grey, morning light. Wet snow lies upon the large panes of the sloping roof-window.

Ginacomes from the kitchen with an apron and bib on, and carrying a dusting-brush and a duster; she goes towards the sitting-room door. At the same momentHedvigcomes hurriedly in from the passage.

Gina.

[Stops.] Well?

Hedvig.

Oh, mother, I almost think he’s down at Relling’s——

Gina.

There, you see!

Hedvig.

——because the porter’s wife says she could hear that Relling had two people with him when he came home last night.

Gina.

That’s just what I thought.

Hedvig.

But it’s no use his being there, if he won’t come up to us.

Gina.

I'll go down and speak to him at all events.

Old Ekdal,in dressing-gown and slippers, and with a lighted pipe, appears at the door of his room.

Ekdal.

Hialmar—— Isn’t Hialmar at home?

Gina.

No, he’s gone out.

Ekdal.

So early? And in such a tearing snowstorm? Well well; just as he pleases; I can take my morning walk alone.

[He slides the garret door aside;Hedvighelps him; he goes in; she closes it after him.

Hedvig.

[In an undertone.] Only think, mother, when poor grandfather hears that father is going to leave us.

Gina.

Oh, nonsense; grandfather mustn’t hear anything about it. It was a heaven’s mercy he wasn’t at home yesterday in all that hurly-burly.

Hedvig.

Yes, but——

[Gregerscomes in by the passage door.

Gregers.

Well, have you any news of him?

Gina.

They say he’s down at Relling’s.

Gregers.

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

Gina.

Yes, like enough.

Gregers.

When he ought to have been yearning for solitude, to collect and clear his thoughts——

Gina.

Yes, you may well say so.

Rellingenters from the passage.

Hedvig.

[Going to him.] Is father in your room?

Gina.

[At the same time.] Is he there?

Relling.

Yes, to be sure he is.

Hedvig.

And you never let us know!

Relling.

Yes; I'm a brute. But in the first place I had to look after the other brute; I mean our dæmonic friend, of course; and then I fell so dead asleep that——

Gina.

What does Ekdal say to-day?

Relling.

He says nothing whatever.

Hedvig.

Doesn’t he speak?

Relling.

Not a blessed word.

Gregers.

No no; I can understand that very well.

Gina.

But what’s he doing then?

Relling.

He’s lying on the sofa, snoring.

Gina.

Oh is he? Yes, Ekdal’s a rare one to snore.

Hedvig.

Asleep? Can he sleep?

Relling.

Well, it certainly looks like it.

Gregers.

No wonder, after the spiritual conflict that has rent him——

Gina.

And then he’s never been used to gadding about out of doors at night.

Hedvig.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s getting some sleep, mother.

Gina.

Of course it is; and we must take care we don’t wake him up too early. Thank you,Relling.I must get the house cleaned up a bit now, and then—— Come and help me, Hedvig.

[GinaandHedviggo into the sitting-room.

Gregers.

[Turning toRelling.] What is your explanationof the spiritual tumult that is now going on in Hialmar Ekdal?

Relling.

Devil a bit of a spiritual tumult haveInoticed in him.

Gregers.

What! Not at such a crisis, when his whole life has been placed on a new foundation——? How can you think that such an individuality as Hialmar’s——?

Relling.

Oh, individuality—he! If he ever had any tendency to the abnormal developments you call individuality, I can assure you it was rooted out of him while he was still in his teens.

Gregers.

That would be strange indeed,—considering the loving care with which he was brought up.

Relling.

By those two high-flown, hysterical maiden aunts, you mean?

Gregers.

Let me tell you that they were women who never forgot the claim of the ideal—but of course you will only jeer at me again.

Relling.

No, I'm in no humour for that. I know all about those ladies; for he has ladled out no end of rhetoric on the subject of his “two soul-mothers.” But I don’t think he has much to thank them for. Ekdal’s misfortune is that in hisown circle he has always been looked upon as a shining light——

Gregers.

Not without reason, surely. Look at the depth of his mind!

Relling.

Ihave never discovered it. That his father believed in it I don’t so much wonder; the old lieutenant has been an ass all his days.

Gregers.

He has had a child-like mind all his days; that is what you cannot understand.

Relling.

Well, so be it. But then, when our dear, sweet Hialmar went to college, he at once passed for the great light of the future amongst his comrades too! He was handsome, the rascal—red and white—a shop-girl’s dream of manly beauty; and with his superficially emotional temperament, and his sympathetic voice, and his talent for declaiming other people’s verses and other people’s thoughts——

Gregers.

[Indignantly.] Is it Hialmar Ekdal you are talking about in this strain?

Relling.

Yes, with your permission; I am simply giving you an inside view of the idol you are grovelling before.

Gregers.

I should hardly have thought I was quite stone blind.

Relling.

Yes you are—or not far from it. You are a sick man, too, you see.

Gregers.

You are right there.

Relling.

Yes. Yours is a complicated case. First of all there is that plaguy integrity-fever; and then—what’s worse—you are always in a delirium of hero-worship; you must always have something to adore, outside yourself.

Gregers.

Yes, I must certainly seek it outside myself.

Relling.

But you make such shocking mistakes about every new phœnix you think you have discovered. Here again you have come to a cotter’s cabin with your claim of the ideal; and the people of the house are insolvent.

Gregers.

If you don’t think better than that of Hialmar Ekdal, what pleasure can you find in being everlastingly with him?

Relling.

Well, you see, I'm supposed to be a sort of a doctor—save the mark! I can’t but give a hand to the poor sick folk who live under the same roof with me.

Gregers.

Oh, indeed! Hialmar Ekdal is sick too, is he!

Relling.

Most people are, worse luck.

Gregers.

And what remedy are you applying in Hialmar’s case?

Relling.

My usual one. I am cultivating the life-illusion[19]in him.

Gregers.

Life—illusion? I didn’t catch what you said.

Relling.

Yes, I said illusion. For illusion, you know, is the stimulating principle.

Gregers.

May I ask with what illusion Hialmar is inoculated?

Relling.

No, thank you; I don’t betray professional secrets to quacksalvers. You would probably go and muddle his case still more than you have already. But my method is infallible. I have applied it to Molvik as well. I have made him “dæmonic.” That’s the blister I have to put on his neck.

Gregers.

Is he not really dæmonic then?

Relling.

What the devil do you mean by dæmonic! It’s only a piece of gibberish I've invented to keep up a spark of life in him. But for that, the poorharmless creature would have succumbed to self-contempt and despair many a long year ago. And then the old lieutenant! But he has hit upon his own cure, you see.

Gregers.

Lieutenant Ekdal? What of him?

Relling.

Just think of the old bear-hunter shutting himself up in that dark garret to shoot rabbits! I tell you there is not a happier sportsman in the world than that old man pottering about in there among all that rubbish. The four or five withered Christmas-trees he has saved up are the same to him as the whole great fresh Höidal forest; the cock and the hens are big game-birds in the fir-tops; and the rabbits that flop about the garret floor are the bears he has to battle with—the mighty hunter of the mountains!

Gregers.

Poor unfortunate old man! Yes; he has indeed had to narrow the ideals of his youth.

Relling.

While I think of it, Mr. Werle, junior—don’t use that foreign word: ideals. We have the excellent native word: lies.

Gregers.

Do you think the two things are related?

Relling.

Yes, just about as closely as typhus and putrid fever.

Gregers.

Dr. Relling, I shall not give up the struggle until I have rescued Hialmar from your clutches!

Relling.

So much the worse for him. Rob the average man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his happiness at the same stroke. [ToHedvig, who comes in from the sitting-room.] Well, little wild-duck-mother, I'm just going down to see whether papa is still lying meditating upon that wonderful invention of his.

[Goes out by the passage door.

Gregers.

[ApproachesHedvig.] I can see by your face that you have not yet done it.

Hedvig.

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

Gregers.

I suppose your courage failed when the time came.

Hedvig.

No, that wasn’t it. But when I awoke this morning and remembered what we had been talking about, it seemed so strange.

Gregers.

Strange?

Hedvig.

Yes, I don’t know——. Yesterday evening, at the moment, I thought there was something so delightful about it; but since I have slept and thought of it again, it somehow doesn’t seem worth while.

Gregers.

Ah, I thought you could not have grown up quite unharmed in this house.

Hedvig.

I don’t care about that, if only father would come up——

Gregers.

Oh, if only your eyes had been opened to that which gives life its value—if you possessed the true, joyous, fearless spirit of sacrifice, you would soon seehowhe would come up to you.—But I believe in you still, Hedvig.

[He goes out by the passage door.[Hedvigwanders about the room for a time; she is on the point of going into the kitchen when a knock is heard at the garret door.Hedviggoes over and opens it a little; oldEkdalcomes out; she pushes the door to again.

[He goes out by the passage door.

[Hedvigwanders about the room for a time; she is on the point of going into the kitchen when a knock is heard at the garret door.Hedviggoes over and opens it a little; oldEkdalcomes out; she pushes the door to again.

Ekdal.

H'm, it’s not much fun to take one’s morning walk alone.

Hedvig.

Wouldn’t you like to go shooting, grandfather?

Ekdal.

It’s not the weather for it to-day. It’s so dark there, you can scarcely see where you’re going.

Hedvig.

Do you never want to shoot anything besides the rabbits?

Ekdal.

Do you think the rabbits aren’t good enough?

Hedvig.

Yes, but what about the wild duck?

Ekdal.

Ho-ho! are you afraid I shall shoot your wild duck? Never in the world. Never.

Hedvig.

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

Ekdal.

Couldn’t! Should rather think I could.

Hedvig.

How would you set about it, grandfather?—I don’t mean with my wild duck, but with others?

Ekdal.

I should take care to shoot them in the breast, you know; that’s the surest place. And then you must shoot against the feathers, you see—not the way of the feathers.

Hedvig.

Do they die then, grandfather?

Ekdal.

Yes, they die right enough—when you shoot properly. Well, I must go and brush up a bit. H'm—understand—h’m.[Goes into his room.

[Hedvigwaits a little, glances towards the sitting-room door, goes over to the book-case, stands on tip-toe, takes the double-barrelled pistol down from the shelf, andlooks at it.Gina,with brush and duster, comes from the sitting-room.Hedvighastily lays down the pistol, unobserved.

Gina.

Don’t stand raking amongst father’s things, Hedvig.

Hedvig.

[Goes away from the bookcase.] I was only going to tidy up a little.

Gina.

You’d better go into the kitchen, and see if the coffee’s keeping hot; I'll take his breakfast on a tray, when I go down to him.

[Hedviggoes out.Ginabegins to sweep and clean up the studio. Presently the passage door is opened with hesitation, andHialmar Ekdallooks in. He has on his overcoat, but not his hat; he is unwashed, and his hair is dishevelled and unkempt. His eyes are dull and heavy.

Gina.

[Standing with the brush in her hand, and looking at him.] Oh, there now, Ekdal—so you’ve come after all?

Hialmar.

[Comes in and answers in a toneless voice.] I come—only to depart again immediately.

Gina.

Yes, yes, I suppose so. But, Lord help us! what a sight you are!

Hialmar.

A sight?

Gina.

And your nice winter coat too! Well, that’s done for.

Hedvig.

[At the kitchen door.] Mother, hadn’t I better——? [SeesHialmar, gives a loud scream of joy, and runs to him.] Oh, father, father!

Hialmar.

[Turns away and makes a gesture of repulsion.] Away, away, away! [ToGina.] Keep her away from me, I say!

Gina.

[In a low tone.] Go into the sitting-room, Hedvig.

[Hedvigdoes so without a word.

Hialmar.

[Fussily pulls out the table-drawer.] I must have my books with me. Where are my books?

Gina.

Which books?

Hialmar.

My scientific books, of course; the technical magazines I require for my invention.

Gina.

[Searches in the bookcase.] Is it these here paper-covered ones?

Hialmar.

Yes, of course.

Gina.

[Lays a heap of magazines on the table.] Shan’t I get Hedvig to cut them for you?

Back to Index Next