HJALMAR EKDAL’s studio. The room, which is fairly spacious, appears to be a loft. To the right is a sloping roof with great panes of glass, half hidden by a blue curtain. In the far right corner is the entrance; nearer on the same side, a door to the living room. Similarly, at the left there are two doors, and between these an iron stove. At the back is a wide double door, designed to slide back to the sides. The studio is simply but comfortably furnished and decorated. Between the right-hand doors, slightly away from the wall, stands a sofa beside a table and some chairs; on the table is a lighted lamp with a shade; by the stove an old armchair. Photographic apparatus and equipment of various sorts are set up here and there in the room. At the left of the double doors stands a bookcase containing a few books, small boxes and flasks of chemicals, various tools, implements, and other objects. Photographs and such small articles as brushes, paper, and the like lie on the table.
GINA EKDAL sits on a chair by the table, sewing. HEDVIG sits on the sofa, hands shading her eyes, thumbs in her ears, reading a book.
GINA (having glanced over several times at HEDVIG, as if with anxiety). Hedvig! (HEDVIG does not hear.)
GINA (louder). Hedvig!
HEDVIG (removing her hands and looking up). Yes, Mother?
GINA. Hedvig dear, you mustn’t sit and read anymore.
HEDVIG. Oh, but Mother, can’t I please read a little longer? Just a little!
GINA. No, no—you must set the book down. Your father doesn’t like it; he never reads in the evening.
HEDVIG (closing the book). No, Daddy’s no great one for reading.
GINA (lays her sewing aside and takes a pencil and a small notebook from the table). Do you remember how much we spent for butter today?
HEDVIG. It was one sixty-five.
GINA. That’s right. (Making a note.) It’s awful how much butter gets used in this house. And then so much for smoked sausage, and for cheese—let me see—(Making more notes.) and so much for ham—hmm. (Adds.) Yes, that adds right up to—
HEDVIG. And then there’s the beer.
GINA. Yes, of course. (Makes another note.) It mounts up—but it can’t be helped.
HEDVIG. Oh, but you and I had no hot food for dinner, ‘cause Daddy was out.
GINA. No, and that’s to the good. What’s more, I also took in eight crowns fifty for photographs.
HEDVIG. No! Was it that much?
GINA. Exactly eight crowns fifty.
(Silence. GINA again picks up her sewing. HEDVIG takes paper and pencil and starts to draw, shading her eyes with her left hand.)
HEDVIG. Isn’t it something to think that Daddy’s at a big dinner party at old Mr. Werle’s?
GINA. You can’t really say that he’s at old Mr. Werle’s. It was his son who sent him the invitation. (After a pause.) We have nothing to do with old Mr. Werle.
HEDVIG. I can hardly wait for Daddy to come home. He promised he’d ask Mrs. Sørby about bringing me a treat.
GINA. Yes, you can bet there are lots of treats to be had in that house.
HEDVIG (again drawing). Besides, I’m a little hungry, too.
(Old EKDAL, with a bundle of papers under his arm and another bundle in his coat pocket, comes in through the hall door.)
GINA. My, but you’re late today, Grandfather.
EKDAL. They’d locked the office. Had to wait for Graaberg. And then I had to go through—uhh.
GINA. Did they give you something new to copy, Grandfather?
EKDAL. This whole pile. Just look.
HEDVIG. And you’ve got a bundle in your pocket, too.
EKDAL. Oh? Nonsense; that’s nothing. (Puts his cane away in the corner.) Here’s work for a good spell, Gina, this here. (Pulls one of the double doors slightly open.) Shh! (Peers into the room a moment, then carefully closes the door again.) He, he! They’re sound asleep, the lot of them. And she’s bedded down in the basket all on her own. He, he!
HEDVIG. Are you sure she won’t be cold in the basket, Grandpa?
EKDAL. What a thought! Cold? In all that straw? (Goes toward the farther door on the left.) I’ll find some matches in here, eh?
GINA. The matches are on the bureau.
(EKDAL goes into his room.)
HEDVIG. It’s wonderful that Grandpa got all that copying to do.
GINA. Yes, poor old Father; he’ll earn himself a little pocket money.
HEDVIG. And he also won’t be able to sit the whole morning down in that horrid Mrs. Eriksen’s café.
GINA. That too, yes. (A short silence.)
HEDVIG. Do you think they’re still at the dinner table?
GINA. Lord only knows; it may well be.
HEDVIG. Just think, all the lovely food Daddy’s eaten! I’m sure he’ll be happy and content when he comes. Don’t you think so, Mother?
GINA. Of course. Imagine if we could tell him now that we’d rented out the room.
HEDVIG. But that’s not necessary tonight.
GINA. Oh, it could well come in handy, you know. It’s no good to us as it is.
HEDVIG. No, I mean it’s not necessary because tonight Daddy’s feeling good. It’s better we have news about the room some other time.
GINA (looking over at her). Are you glad when you have something nice to tell your father when he comes home at night?
HEDVIG. Yes, for things here are pleasanter then.
GINA (reflecting). Well, there’s something to that.
GINA (half turning in her chair). Does Grandfather want something from the kitchen?
EKDAL. I do, yes. Don’t stir. (He goes out.)
GINA. He never fusses with the fire out there. (After a moment.) Hedvig, go see what he’s doing.
(EKDAL reenters with a small jug of steaming water.)
HEDVIG. Are you after hot water, Grandpa?
EKDAL. Yes, I am. Need it for something. Have to write, and the ink is caked thick as porridge—hmm.
GINA. But you ought to have supper first, Grandfather. It’s all set and waiting in there.
EKDAL. Never mind about the supper, Gina. Terribly busy, I tell you. I don’t want anybody coming into my room—nobody. Hmm. (He goes into his room. GINA and HEDVIG exchange glances.)
GINA (lowering her voice). Where do you figure he’s gotten money?
HEDVIG. He must have got it from Graaberg.
GINA. Not a chance. Graaberg always sends the pay to me.
HEDVIG. Maybe he got a bottle somewhere on credit.
GINA. Poor Grandpa, no one’ll give him credit.
(HJALMAR EKDAL, wearing an overcoat and a gray felt hat, enters from the right.)
GINA (dropping her sewing and getting up). Ah, Hjalmar, here you are!
HEDVIG (jumping up at the same time). At last you’re home, Daddy!
HJALMAR (putting his hat down). Yes, most of them were leaving.
HEDVIG. So early?
HJALMAR. Yes, it was only a dinner party. (Starts to remove his overcoat.)
GINA. Let me help you.
HEDVIG. Me too.
HEDVIG. Were there many there, Daddy?
HJALMAR. Oh no, not many. We were some twelve, fourteen people at the table.
GINA. And you got to talk with every one of them?
HJALMAR. Oh yes, a little, though Gregers rather monopolized me.
GINA. Is Gregers ugly as ever?
HJALMAR. Well, he doesn’t look any better. Isn’t the old man home?
HEDVIG. Yes, Grandpa’s inside, writing.
HJALMAR. Did he say anything?
GINA. No, what should he say?
HJALMAR. Didn’t he mention anything of—I thought I heard that he’d been with Graaberg. I’ll go in and have a word with him.
GINA. No, no, don’t bother.
HJALMAR. Why not? Did he say he wouldn’t see me?
GINA. He doesn’t want anyone in there this evening.
HEDVIG (making signals). Uh—uh!
GINA (not noticing). He’s already been out here and gotten hot water.
HJALMAR. Aha! Is he—?
GINA. Yes, exactly.
HJALMAR. Good Lord, my poor old white-haired father! Well, let him be, enjoying life’s pleasures as he may.
(Old EKDAL in a bathrobe, smoking a pipe, enters from his room.)
EKDAL. Home, eh? Thought it was your voice I heard.
HJALMAR. I just arrived.
EKDAL. You didn’t see me at all, did you?
HJALMAR. No, but they said you’d been through—so I thought I’d follow after.
EKDAL. Hm, good of you, Hjalmar. Who were they, all those people?
HJALMAR. Oh, different sorts. There was Flor—he’s at the court—and Balle and Kaspersen and, uh—I forget his name, but people at court, all of them—
EKDAL (nodding). Listen to that, Gina! He travels only in the best circles.
GINA. Yes, it’s real elegant in that house now.
HEDVIG. Did the court people sing, Daddy? Or give readings?
HJALMAR. No, they just babbled away. Of course they wanted me to recite for them, but I couldn’t see that.
EKDAL. You couldn’t see that, eh?
GINA. That you could easily have done.
HJALMAR. Never. One mustn’t be a doormat for every passing foot. (Walking about the room.) At least, that’s not my way.
EKDAL. No, no, that’s not for Hjalmar.
HJALMAR. I don’t know why I should always provide the entertainment, when I’m out in society so rarely. Let the others make an effort. There those fellows go from one banquet to the next, eating and drinking day in and day out. So let them do their tricks in return for all the good food they get.
GINA. But you didn’t say that there?
HJALMAR (humming). Um—um—um—they were told a thing or two.
EKDAL. Right to the nobility!
HJALMAR. I don’t see why not. (Casually.) Later we had a little quibble about Tokay.
EKDAL. Tokay, you mean? That’s a fine wine, that.
HJALMAR (coming to a halt). On occasion. But I must tell you that not all years are equally good. Everything depends strictly on how much sun the grapes have had.
GINA. Really? Oh, Hjalmar, you know everything.
EKDAL. And they could argue about that?
HJALMAR. They tried to. But then they were informed that it’s exactly the same with court officials. Among them as well, all years are not equally fine—it was said.
GINA. The things you think of!
EKDAL. He—he! So you served that up to them, eh?
HJALMAR. Smack between the eyes they got it.
EKDAL. Hear, Gina! He laid that one smack between the eyes of the nobility.
GINA. Just think, smack between the eyes.
HJALMAR. That’s right. But I don’t want a lot of talk about this. One doesn’t speak of such things. Everything really went off in the most friendly spirit, naturally. They’re all pleasant, genial people. How could I hurt their feelings? Never!
EKDAL. But smack between the eyes—
HEDVIG (ingratiatingly). How nice to see you in evening clothes, Daddy. You look so well in them.
HJALMAR. Yes, don’t you think so? And this one here really fits very well. It’s almost as if it were made for me. A bit snug under the arms, maybe—help me, Hedvig. (Takes off the coat.) I’d rather wear my jacket. What did you do with my jacket, Gina?
GINA. Here it is. (Brings the jacket and helps him into it.)
HJALMAR. There! Now don’t forget to give Molvik his coat back first thing in the morning.
GINA (putting it away). I’ll take care of it.
HJALMAR (stretching). Ah, but this feels much more comfortable. This kind of free and easy dress suits my whole personality better. Don’t you think so, Hedvig?
HEDVIG. Yes, Daddy.
HJALMAR. And when I pull my necktie out into a pair of flowing ends—so! Look! What then?
HEDVIG. Yes, it goes so well with your mustache and your long, curly hair.
HJALMAR. Curly? I wouldn’t say it’s that. I’d call it wavy.
HEDVIG. Yes, but it is so curly.
HJALMAR. No—wavy.
HEDVIG (after a moment, tugs at his sleeve). Daddy!
HJALMAR. What is it?
HEDVIG. Oh, you know what.
HJALMAR. No, I don’t. Honestly.
HEDVIG (laughing fretfully). Come on, Daddy, don’t tease me any longer.
HJALMAR. But what is it, then?
HEDVIG (shaking him). Silly! Out with it, Daddy. You know—all the treats you promised me.
HJALMAR. Oh—no! How did I ever forget that?
HEDVIG. No, you can’t fool me. Shame on you! Where have you hidden it?
HJALMAR. So help me if I didn’t forget. But wait a minute! I’ve got something else for you, Hedvig. (Goes over and rummages in his coat pockets.)
HEDVIG (jumping and clapping her hands). Oh, Mother, Mother!
GINA. You see, if you’re only patient enough, then—
HJALMAR (returning with a piece of paper). See, here we have it.
HEDVIG. That? But that’s just a piece of paper.
HJALMAR. It’s the bill of fare, the complete bill of fare. Here it says “menu”; that means “bill of fare.”
HEDVIG. Don’t you have anything else?
HJALMAR. I forgot to bring anything else, I tell you. But take my word for it: it’s bad business, this doting on sugar candy. Now, if you’ll sit down at the table and read the menu aloud, I’ll describe for you just how each dish tasted. How’s that, Hedvig?
HEDVIG (swallowing her tears). Thanks. (She sits, but does not read. GINA makes gestures at her, which HJALMAR notices.)
HJALMAR (pacing about the floor). What incredible things a family breadwinner is asked to remember; and if he forgets even the tiniest detail—immediately he’s met with sour faces. Well, he has to get used to that, too. (Pauses at the stove beside EKDAL.) Have you looked inside this evening, Father?
EKDAL. Oh, that you can be sure of. She’s gone into the basket.
HJALMAR. No! Into the basket? Then she’s begun to get used to it.
EKDAL. Yes. You see, it was just as I predicted. But now there are some little things to do—
HJALMAR. Some improvements, eh?
EKDAL. But they’ve got to be done, you know.
HJALMAR. All right, let’s talk a bit about the improvements, Father. Come, we’ll sit here on the sofa.
EKDAL. Very good. Umm—think I’ll fill my pipe first. Needs cleaning, too. Hmm. (He goes into his room.)
GINA (smiling at HJALMAR). Clean his pipe!
HJALMAR. Ah, now, Gina, let him be. Poor old derelict. Yes, the improvements—it’s best we get those off our hands tomorrow.
GINA. Tomorrow you won’t have time, Hjalmar—
HEDVIG (interrupting). Oh yes, he will, Mother!
GINA. Remember those prints that need retouching. They’ve been called for so many times already.
HJALMAR. Oh yes, those prints again. They’ll be finished in no time. Did any new orders come in?
GINA. No such luck. For tomorrow, I have nothing except those two portrait sittings you know about.
HJALMAR. Nothing else? Ah, well, if people won’t even try, then naturally—
GINA. But what else can I do? I’ve put ads in the papers time and again.
HJALMAR. Yes, ads, ads—you see what a help they are. And of course nobody’s been to look at the spare room either?
GINA. No, not yet.
HJALMAR. That was to be expected. If one doesn’t keep wide awake— Gina, you’ve simply got to pull yourself together.
HEDVIG (going to him). Let me bring you your flute, Daddy.
HJALMAR. No, no flute. I want no pleasures in this world. (Pacing about.) Ah, yes, work—I’ll be deep in work tomorrow; there’ll be no lack of that. I’ll sweat and slave as long as my strength holds out—
GINA. But Hjalmar dear, I didn’t mean it that way.
HEDVIG. Can’t I get you a bottle of beer, then?
HJALMAR. Absolutely not. There’s nothing I need. (Stopping.) Beer? Did you say beer?
HEDVIG (vivaciously). Yes, Daddy, lovely cool beer.
HJALMAR. Well—if you really insist, I suppose you could bring in a bottle.
GINA. Yes, do that. Then we’ll have it cozy.
(HEDVIG runs toward the kitchen door. HJALMAR by the stove stops her, gazes at her, clasps her about the head and hugs her to him.)
HJALMAR. Hedvig! Hedvig!
HEDVIG (with tears of joy). Oh, my dearest Daddy!
HJALMAR. No, don’t call me that. There I sat, helping myself at a rich man’s table, gorging myself with all good things—! I could at least have remembered—
GINA (sitting at the table). Oh, nonsense, Hjalmar.
HJALMAR. Yes, I could! But you mustn’t be too hard on me. You both know I love you anyway.
HEDVIG (throwing her arms around him). And we love you too, so much!
HJALMAR. And if I should seem unreasonable at times, then—good Lord—remember that I am a man assailed by a host of cares. Ah, yes! (Drying his eyes.) No beer at a time like this. Bring me my flute. (HEDVIG runs to the bookcase and fetches it.) Thank you. There—so. With flute in hand, and you two close by me—ahh!
(HEDVIG sits at the table by GINA, HJALMAR walks back and forth, then forcefully begins to play a Bohemian folk dance, but in a slow elegaic tempo with sentimental intonation. After a moment he breaks off the melody and extends his left hand to GINA.)
HJALMAR (with feeling). So what if we skimp and scrape along under this roof, Gina—it’s still our home. And I’ll say this: it’s good to be here. (He starts playing again; immediately there comes a knock on the hall door.)
GINA (getting up). Shh, Hjalmar. I think someone’s there.
HJALMAR (returning the flute to the bookcase). What, again! (GINA goes over and opens the door.)
GREGERS WERLE (out in the hallway). Excuse me—
GINA (drawing back slightly). Oh!
GREGERS. But doesn’t Mr. Ekdal, the photographer, live here?
GINA. Yes, that’s right.
HJALMAR (going toward the door). Gregers! Is it really you? Well, come right in.
GREGERS (entering). I said I was going to drop in on you.
HJALMAR. But tonight? Have you left the party?
GREGERS. Left both party and family home. Good evening, Mrs. Ekdal. I don’t know whether you recognize me?
GINA. Oh yes. Young Mr. Werle is not so hard to recognize.
GREGERS. No. I look like my mother, and you remember her, no doubt.
HJALMAR. Did you say you’d left your home?
GREGERS. Yes, I’ve moved into a hotel.
HJALMAR. I see. Well, now that you’ve come, take off your things and sit down.
GREGERS. Thank you. (Removes his overcoat. He is dressed now in a plain gray suit with a rustic look.)
HJALMAR. Here, on the sofa. Make yourself at home.
(GREGERS sits on the sofa, HJALMAR on a chair at the table.)
GREGERS (looking around). So this is where you work, then, Hjalmar. And you live here as well.
HJALMAR. This is the studio, as you can see—
GINA. There’s more room in here, so we like it better.
HJALMAR. We had a better place before; but this apartment has one great advantage: it has such wonderful adjoining rooms—
GINA. And so we have a room on the other side of the hall that we can rent out.
GREGERS (to HJALMAR). Ah, then you have lodgers, too.
HJALMAR. No, not yet. It’s not that easy, you know. One has to keep wide awake. (To HEDVIG.) But how about that beer?
(HEDVIG nods and goes into the kitchen.)
GREGERS. So that’s your daughter, then?
HJALMAR. Yes, that’s Hedvig.
GREGERS. An only child?
HJALMAR. She’s the only one, yes. She’s the greatest joy of our lives, and—(Lowering his voice.) also our deepest sorrow, Gregers.
GREGERS. What do you mean?
HJALMAR. Yes. You see, there’s the gravest imminent danger of her losing her sight.
GREGERS. Going blind!
HJALMAR. Yes. So far only the first signs are present, and things may go well for a while. All the same, the doctor has warned us. It will come inevitably.
GREGERS. What a dreadful misfortune! How did this happen?
HJALMAR (sighing). Heredity, most likely.
GREGERS (startled). Heredity?
GINA. Hjalmar’s mother also had bad eyes.
HJALMAR. Yes, so my father says. I don’t remember her.
GREGERS. Poor child. And how is she taking it?
HJALMAR. Oh, you can well imagine, we haven’t the heart to tell her. She suspects nothing. She’s carefree, gay, and singing like a tiny bird, she’s fluttering into life’s eternal night. (Overcome.) Oh, it’s a brutal blow for me, Gregers.
(HEDVIG brings in beer and glasses on a tray, which she sets down on the table.)
HJALMAR (stroking her head). Thanks. Thanks, Hedvig.
(HEDVIG puts her arms around his neck and whispers in his ear.)
HJALMAR. No. No bread and butter now. (Looking over.) Or maybe Gregers will have a piece?
GREGERS (making a gesture of refusal). No. No, thanks.
HJALMAR (his tone still mournful). Well, you can bring in a little anyway. If you have a crust, that would be fine. And please, put enough butter on, too.
(HEDVIG nods contentedly and returns to the kitchen.)
GREGERS (after following her with his eyes). In every other respect she looks so strong and healthy.
GINA. Yes, thank God, she’s got nothing else wrong with her.
GREGERS. She’ll certainly look like you when she grows up, Mrs. Ekdal. How old is she now?
GINA. Hedvig is almost fourteen exactly; her birthday’s the day after tomorrow.
GREGERS. Rather tall for her age.
GINA. Yes, she’s shot right up this past year.
GREGERS. Nothing like the growth of a child to show us how old we’re getting. How long is it you’ve been married now?
GINA. We’ve been married now for—yes, near fifteen years.
GREGERS. No, truly! Has it been that long?
GINA (looking at him, becoming wary). Yes, no doubt about it.
HJALMAR. That’s right. Fifteen years, short a few months. (Changing the subject.) They must have been long years for you, Gregers, up there at the works.
GREGERS. They were long while I was living them—but now I scarcely know what became of the time.
(Old EKDAL enters from his room, without his pipe, but with his old military cap on his head; his walk is a bit unsteady.)
EKDAL. There, now, Hjalmar. Now we can settle down and talk about that—umm. What was it again?
HJALMAR (going toward him). Father, someone is here. Gregers Werle. I don’t know if you remember him.
EKDAL (regarding GREGERS, who has gotten up). Werle? That’s the son, isn’t it? What does he want with me?
HJALMAR. Nothing; it’s me he’s come to see.
EKDAL. Well, then nothing’s up, eh?
HJALMAR. No, of course not.
EKDAL (swinging his arms). It’s not that I’m scared of anything, you know, but—
GREGERS (going over to him). I just want to greet you from your old hunting grounds, Lieutenant Ekdal.
EKDAL. Hunting grounds?
GREGERS. Yes, up there around the Hoidal works.
EKDAL. Oh, up there. Yes, I was well known there once.
GREGERS. In those days you were a tremendous hunter.
EKDAL. So I was. Still am, maybe. You’re looking at my uniform. I ask nobody permission to wear it in here. As long as I don’t walk in the streets with it— (HEDVIG brings a plate of buttered bread, which she places on the table.)
HJALMAR. Sit down, Father, and have a glass of beer. Help yourself, Gregers.
(EKDAL stumbles, muttering, over to the sofa. GREGERS sits on the chair nearest him, HJALMAR on the other side of GREGERS. GINA sits near the table and sews; HEDVIG stands beside her father.)
GREGERS. Do you remember, Lieutenant Ekdal, when Hjalmar and I would come up to visit you summers and at Christmas?
EKDAL. Did you? No, no, no, I don’t recall. But I’ll tell you something: I’ve been a first-rate hunter. Bear—I’ve shot them, too. Shot nine in all.
GREGERS (looking sympathetically at him). And now you hunt no more.
EKDAL. Oh, I wouldn’t say that, boy. Get some hunting in now and then. Yes, but not that kind there. The woods, you see—the woods, the woods—(Drinks.) How do the woods look up there?
GREGERS. Not so fine as in your time. They’ve been cut into heavily.
EKDAL. Cut into? (More quietly, as if in fear.) It’s a dangerous business, that. It catches up with you. The woods take revenge.
HJALMAR (filling his glass). Here, a little more, Father.
GREGERS. How can a man like you—such an outdoorsman—live in the middle of a stuffy city, cooped up in these four walls?
EKDAL (half laughs and glances at HJALMAR). Oh, it’s not so bad here. Not bad at all.
GREGERS. But all those other things, the very roots of your soul—that cool, sweeping breeze, that free life of the moors and forests, among the animals and birds—?
EKDAL (smiling). Hjalmar, should we show him?
HJALMAR (quickly and a bit embarrassed). No, no, Father, not tonight.
GREGERS. What’s that he wants to show me?
HJALMAR. Oh, it’s only a sort of—you can see it some other time.
GREGERS (speaking again to EKDAL). Yes, my point was this, Lieutenant Ekdal, that now you might as well return with me to the works, for I’m sure to be leaving very soon. Without a doubt, you could get some copying to do up there; and here you’ve nothing in the world to stir your blood and make you happy.
EKDAL (staring at him, astonished). I have nothing, nothing at all—!
GREGERS. Of course you have Hjalmar, but then again, he has his own. And a man like you, who’s always felt himself so drawn to whatever is free and wild—
EKDAL (striking the table). Hjalmar, now he’s got to see it!
HJALMAR. But Father, is it worth it now? It’s dark, you know—
EKDAL. Nonsense! There’s moonlight. (Getting up.) I say he’s got to see it. Let me by. Come and help me, Hjalmar!
HEDVIG. Oh yes, do that, Father!
HJALMAR (getting up). Well—all right.
GREGERS (to GINA). What’s this all about?
GINA. Oh, you really mustn’t expect anything special.
(EKDAL and HJALMAR have gone to the back wall to push aside the two halves of the double door; HEDVIG helps her grandfather, while GREGERS remains standing by the sofa and GINA sits, imperturbably sewing. The doorway opens on an extensive, irregular loft room with many nooks and corners, and two separate chimney shafts ascending through it. Clear moonlight streams through skylights into certain parts of the large room; others lie in deep shadow.)
EKDAL (to GREGERS). All the way over here, please.
GREGERS (going over to them). What is it, then?
EKDAL. See for yourself—hmm.
HJALMAR (somewhat self-conscious). All this belongs to Father, you understand.
GREGERS (peering in at the doorway). So you keep poultry, Lieutenant Ekdal!
EKDAL. I’ll say we keep poultry! They’re roosting now; but you just ought to see our poultry by daylight!
HEDVIG. And then there’s a—
EKDAL. Shh, shh—don’t say anything yet.
GREGERS. And you’ve got pigeons too, I see.
EKDAL. Oh yes, it might just be we’ve got some pigeons. They have their nesting boxes up there under the eaves; pigeons like to perch high, you know.
HJALMAR. They’re not ordinary pigeons, all of them.
EKDAL. Ordinary! No, I should say not! We have tumblers, and we have a couple of pouters also. But look here! Can you see that hutch over there by the wall?
GREGERS. Yes. What do you use that for?
EKDAL. The rabbits sleep there at night, boy.
GREGERS. Well, so you have rabbits too?
EKDAL. Yes, what the devil do you think we have but rabbits! He asks if we have rabbits, Hjalmar! Hmm! But now listen, this is really something! This is it! Out of the way, Hedvig. Stand right here—that’s it—and look straight down there. Do you see a basket there with straw in it?
GREGERS. Yes, and there’s a bird nesting in the basket.
EKDAL. Hmm! “A bird”—
GREGERS. Isn’t it a duck?
EKDAL (hurt). Yes, of course it’s a duck.
HJALMAR. But what kind of duck?
HEDVIG. It’s not just any old duck—
EKDAL. Shh!
GREGERS. And it’s no exotic breed, either.
EKDAL. No, Mr.—Werle, it’s not any exotic breed—because it’s a wild duck.
GREGERS. No, is it really? A wild duck?
EKDAL. Oh yes, that’s what it is. That “bird” as you said—that’s a wild duck. That’s our wild duck, boy.
HEDVIG. My wild duck—I own it.
GREGERS. And it can survive up here indoors? And do well?
EKDAL. You’ve got to understand, she’s got a trough of water to splash around in.
HJALMAR. Fresh water every other day.
GINA (turning to HJALMAR). Hjalmar dear, it’s freezing cold in here now.
EKDAL. Hmm, let’s close up, then. Doesn’t pay to disturb their rest either. Lend a hand, Hedvig dear. (HJALMAR and HEDVIG push the double doors together.) Another time you can get a proper look at her. (Sits in the armchair by the stove.) Oh, they’re most curious, the wild ducks, you know.
GREGERS. But how did you capture it, Lieutenant Ekdal?
EKDAL. Didn’t capture it myself. There’s a certain man here in town we can thank for it.
GREGERS (starts slightly). That man—it wouldn’t be my father?
EKDAL. Exactly right—your father. Hmm.
HJALMAR. It was odd you were able to guess that, Gregers.
GREGERS. Well, you said before that you owed Father for so many different things, so I thought here too—
GINA. But we didn’t get the duck from Mr. Werle himself—
EKDAL. We might just as well thank Haakon Werle for her anyhow, Gina. (To GREGERS.) He was out in his boat— follow me?—and he shot for her, but he sees so bad now, your father, that—hm—he only winged her.
GREGERS. I see. She took some shot in her body.
HJALMAR. Yes, some one, two—three pieces.
HEDVIG. She got it under the wing, and so she couldn’t fly.
GREGERS. Ah, so she dived right for the bottom, eh?
EKDAL (sleepily, with a thick voice). You can bet on that. They always do, the wild ducks—streak for the bottom, deep as they can get, boy—bite right into the weeds and sea moss—and all that devil’s beard that grows down there. And then they never come up again.
GREGERS. But Lieutenant Ekdal, your wild duck came up again.
EKDAL. He had such a remarkably clever dog, your father. And that dog—he dove down and brought her up.
GREGERS (turning to HJALMAR). And then you got her here.
HJALMAR. Not directly. First she went home to your father’s, but there she didn’t do well, so Pettersen got his orders to put an end to her—
EKDAL (half asleep). Hm—yes, Pettersen—that bonehead—
HJALMAR (speaking more softly). That’s the way we got her, you see. Father knows Pettersen a bit and when he heard all this about the wild duck, he arranged to have her handed over to us.
GREGERS. And now she’s absolutely thriving in that attic room.
HJALMAR. Yes, it’s incredible. She’s gotten fat. I think she’s been in there so long, too, that she’s forgotten her old wild life, and that’s what it all comes down to.
GREGERS. You’re certainly right there, Hjalmar. Just don’t let her ever catch sight of the sea and the sky— But I mustn’t stay any longer, for I think your father’s asleep.
HJALMAR. Oh, don’t bother about that.
GREGERS. But incidentally—you said you had a room for rent, a free room?
HJALMAR. Yes. Why? Do you know someone, perhaps—?
GREGERS. Could I take that room?
HJALMAR. You?
GINA. No, not you, Mr. Werle—
GREGERS. Could I take the room? If so, I’ll move in first thing in the morning.
HJALMAR. By all means, with the greatest pleasure—
GINA. No, but Mr. Werle, it’s not at all the room for you.
HJALMAR. But Gina, how can you say that?
GINA. Oh, the room isn’t large enough, or light enough, and—
GREGERS. That really doesn’t matter, Mrs. Ekdal.
HJALMAR. I think it’s a very pleasant room, and it’s not badly furnished, either.
GINA. But remember those two who live right below.
GREGERS. What two are those?
GINA. Oh, one of them’s been a private tutor—
HJALMAR. That’s Molvik, from the university.
GINA. And then there’s a doctor named Relling.
GREGERS. Relling? I know him somewhat. He practiced a while up in Hoidal.
GINA. They’re a pretty wild pair, those fellows. They go out on the town evenings and then come home in the dead of night, and they’re not always so—
GREGERS. One gets used to that soon enough. I’m hoping things will go for me the same as with the wild duck—
GINA. Well, I think you ought to sleep on it first, anyway.
GREGERS. You’re not very anxious to have me in the house, Mrs. Ekdal.
GINA. Goodness, what makes you think that?
HJALMAR. Yes, Gina, this is really peculiar of you. (To GREGERS.) But tell me, do you expect to stay here in town for a while?
GREGERS (putting on his overcoat). Yes, now I expect to stay on.
HJALMAR. But not at home with your father? What do you plan to do with yourself?
GREGERS. Yes, if I only knew that—then I’d be doing all right. But when one is cursed with being called Gregers—"Gregers"—and then “Werle” coming after—have you ever heard anything so disgusting?
HJALMAR. Oh, I don’t agree at all.
GREGERS. Ugh! Phew! I feel I’d like to spit on any man with a name like that. But when one has to live with that curse of being called Gregers, as I do—
HJALMAR (laughing). If you weren’t Gregers Werle, who would you want to be?
GREGERS. If I could choose, above all else I’d like to be a clever dog.
GINA. A dog!
HEDVIG (involuntarily). Oh no!
GREGERS. Yes. A really fantastic, clever dog, the kind that goes to the bottom after wild ducks when they dive under and bite fast into the weeds down in the mire.
HJALMAR. You know, Gregers—I can’t follow a word you’re saying.
GREGERS. Never mind. There’s really nothing very remarkable in it. But tomorrow morning, early, I’ll be moving in. (To GINA.) I won’t be any trouble to you; I do everything for myself. (To HJALMAR.) The rest we can talk over tomorrow. Good night, Mrs. Ekdal. (Nods to HEDVIG.) Good night.
GINA. Good night, Mr. Werle.
HEDVIG. Good night.
HJALMAR (who has lit a lamp). Just a minute. I’d better light your way; it’s quite dark on the stairs.
(GREGERS and HJALMAR go out through the hall.)
GINA (gazing into space, her sewing in her lap). Wasn’t that a queer business, his wanting to be a dog?
HEDVIG. I’ll tell you something, Mother—it seemed to me he meant something else by that.
GINA. What else could he mean?
HEDVIG. I don’t know—but it was just as if he meant something else from what he said, all the time.
GINA. Do you think so? It was strange, all right.
HJALMAR (coming back). The light was still lit. (Putting out the lamp and setting it down.) Ah, at last one can get a bite to eat. (Beginning on the bread and butter.) Well, now you see, Gina—if you simply keep wide awake, then—
GINA. What do you mean, wide awake?
HJALMAR. Well, it was lucky, then, that we got the room rented out for a while at last. And think—to a person like Gregers—a good old friend.
GINA. Yes. I don’t know what to say. I don’t.
HEDVIG. Oh, Mother, you’ll see. It’ll be fun.
HJALMAR. You really are peculiar. Before you were so eager to rent, and now you don’t like it.
GINA. Yes, Hjalmar, if it could only have been somebody else. What do you think the old man will say?
HJALMAR. Old Werle? This doesn’t concern him.
GINA. But you can sure bet that something has come up between them, since the son is moving out. You know how those two get along together.
HJALMAR. Yes, that may well be, but—
GINA. And now maybe the old man thinks it’s you that’s behind—
HJALMAR. He can think that as much as he likes! Old Werle has done a tremendous amount for me. God knows, I’m aware of that. But even so, I can’t make myself eternally dependent on him.
GINA. But Hjalmar dear, that can have its effect on Grandfather. He may now lose that miserable little income he gets from Graaberg.
HJALMAR. I could almost say, so much the better! Isn’t it rather humiliating for a man like me to see his gray-haired father go around like an outcast? But now time is gathering to a ripeness, I think. (Takes another piece of bread and butter.) Just as sure as I’ve got a mission in life, I’m going to carry it out!
HEDVIG. Oh yes, Daddy! Do!
GINA. Shh! Don’t wake him up.
HJALMAR (more quietly). I will carry it out, I tell you. There will come a day when— And that’s why it’s good we got the room rented out, for now I’m more independently fixed. Any man must be that, who’s got a mission in life. (Over by the armchair; emotionally.) Poor old white-haired Father—lean on your Hjalmar. He has broad shoulders—powerful shoulders, in any case. One fine day you’ll wake up and—(To GINA.) You do believe that, don’t you?
GINA (getting up). Yes, of course I do. But first let’s see about getting him to bed.
HJALMAR. Yes, let’s do that.
(Gently they lift up the old man.)