The same rooms at the TESMANS’. The curtains are down across the doorway to the inner room, and also across the glass door. The lamp, shaded and turned down low, is burning on the table. The door to the stove stands open; the fire has nearly gone out.
MRS. ELVSTED, wrapped in a large shawl, with her feet up on a footstool, lies back in the armchair close by the stove. HEDDA, fully dressed, is asleep on the sofa, with a blanket over her. After a pause, MRS. ELVSTED suddenly sits straight up in the chair, listening tensely. Then she sinks wearily back again.
MRS. ELVSTED (in a low moan). Not yet—oh, God—oh, God—not yet!
(BERTA slips in cautiously by the hall door. She holds a letter in her hand.)
MRS. ELVSTED (turns and whispers anxiously). Yes? Has anyone come?
BERTA (softly). Yes, a girl just now stopped by with this letter.
MRS. ELVSTED (quickly, reaching out her hand). A letter! Give it to me!
BERTA. No, it’s for the Doctor, ma’am.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh.
BERTA. It was Miss Tesman’s maid that brought it. I’ll leave it here on the table.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, do.
BERTA (putting the letter down). I think I’d best put out the lamp. It’s smoking.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, put it out. It’ll be daylight soon.
BERTA (does so). It’s broad daylight already, ma’am.
MRS. ELVSTED. It’s daylight! And still no one’s come—!
BERTA. Oh, mercy—I knew it would go like this.
MRS. ELVSTED. You knew?
BERTA. Yes, when I saw that a certain gentleman was back here in town—and that he went off with them. We’ve heard plenty about that gentleman over the years.
MRS. ELVSTED. Don’t talk so loud. You’ll wake Mrs. Tesman.
BERTA (looks toward the sofa and sighs). Goodness me—yes, let her sleep, poor thing. Should I put a bit more on the fire?
MRS. ELVSTED. Thanks, not for me.
BERTA. All right. (She goes quietly out the hall door.)
HEDDA (wakes as the door shuts and looks up). What’s that?
MRS. ELVSTED. It was just the maid—
HEDDA (glancing about). In here—? Oh yes, I remember now. (Sits up on the sofa, stretches, and rubs her eyes.) What time is it, Thea?
MRS. ELVSTED (looking at her watch). It’s after seven.
HEDDA. When did Tesman get in?
MRS. ELVSTED. He isn’t back.
HEDDA. Not back yet?
MRS. ELVSTED (getting up). No one’s come in.
HEDDA. And we sat here and waited up for them till four o’clock—
MRS. ELVSTED (wringing her hands). And how I’ve waited for him!
HEDDA (yawns, and speaks with her hand in front of her mouth). Oh, dear—we could have saved ourselves the trouble.
MRS. ELVSTED. Did you get any sleep?
HEDDA. Oh yes. I slept quite well, I think. Didn’t you?
MRS. ELVSTED. No, not at all. I couldn’t, Hedda! It was just impossible.
HEDDA (rising and going toward her). There, there, now! There’s nothing to worry about. It’s not hard to guess what happened.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, what? Tell me!
HEDDA. Well, it’s clear that the party must have gone on till all hours—
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, Lord, yes—it must have. But even so—
HEDDA. And then, of course, Tesman didn’t want to come home and make a commotion in the middle of the night. (Laughs.) Probably didn’t care to show himself, either—so full of his party spirits.
MRS. ELVSTED. But where else could he have gone?
HEDDA. He must have gone up to his aunts’ to sleep. They keep his old room ready.
MRS. ELVSTED. No, he can’t be with them. Because he just now got a letter from Miss Tesman. It’s over there.
HEDDA. Oh? (Looking at the address.) Yes, that’s Aunt Julie’s handwriting, all right. Well, then he must have stayed over at Judge Brack’s. And Eilert Løvborg—he’s sitting with vine leaves in his hair, reading away.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, Hedda, you say these things, and you really don’t believe them at all.
HEDDA. You’re such a little fool, Thea.
MRS. ELVSTED. That’s true; I guess I am.
HEDDA. And you really look dead tired.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, I feel dead tired.
HEDDA. Well, you just do as I say, then. Go in my room and stretch out on the bed for a while.
MRS. ELVSTED. No, no—I still wouldn’t get any sleep.
HEDDA. Why, of course you would.
MRS. ELVSTED. Well, but your husband’s sure to be home now soon. And I’ve got to know right away—
HEDDA. I’ll call you the moment he comes.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes? Promise me, Hedda?
HEDDA. You can count on it. Just go and get some sleep.
MRS. ELVSTED. Thanks. I’ll try. (She goes out through the inner room.)
(HEDDA goes over to the glass door and draws the curtains back. Bright daylight streams into the room. She goes over to the writing table, takes out a small hand mirror, regards herself and arranges her hair. She then goes to the hall door and presses the bell. After a moment, BERTA enters.)
BERTA. Did you want something, ma’am?
HEDDA. Yes, you can build up the fire. I’m freezing in here.
BERTA. Why, my goodness—we’ll have it warm in no time. (She rakes the embers together and puts some wood on, then stops and listens.) There’s the front doorbell, ma’am.
HEDDA. Go see who it is. I’ll take care of the stove.
BERTA. It’ll be burning soon. (She goes out the hall door.)
(HEDDA kneels on the footstool and lays more wood on the fire. After a moment, GEORGE TESMAN comes in from the hall. He looks tired and rather serious. He tiptoes toward the doorway to the inner room and is about to slip through the curtains.)
HEDDA (at the stove, without looking up). Good morning.
TESMAN (turns). Hedda! (Approaching her.) But what on earth—! You’re up so early? Uh?
HEDDA. Yes, I’m up quite early today.
TESMAN. And I was so sure you were still in bed sleeping. Isn’t that something, Hedda!
HEDDA. Not so loud. Mrs. Elvsted’s resting in my room.
TESMAN. Was Mrs. Elvsted here all night?
HEDDA. Well, no one returned to take her home.
TESMAN. No, I guess that’s right.
HEDDA (shuts the door to the stove and gets up). So—did you enjoy your party?
TESMAN. Were you worried about me? Hm?
HEDDA. No, that never occurred to me. I just asked if you’d had a good time.
TESMAN. Oh yes, I really did, for once. But more at the beginning, I’d say—when Eilert read to me out of his book. We got there more than an hour too soon—imagine! And Brack had so much to get ready. But then Eilert read to me.
HEDDA (sitting at the right-hand side of the table). Well? Tell me about it—
TESMAN (sitting on a footstool by the stove). Really, Hedda—you can’t imagine what a book that’s going to be! I do believe it’s one of the most remarkable things ever written. Just think!
HEDDA. Yes, yes, I don’t care about that—
TESMAN. But I have to make a confession, Hedda. When he’d finished reading—I had such a nasty feeling—
TESMAN. I found myself envying Eilert, that he was able to write such a book. Can you imagine, Hedda!
HEDDA. Oh yes, I can imagine!
TESMAN. And then how sad to see—that with all his gifts—he’s still quite irreclaimable.
HEDDA. Don’t you mean that he has more courage to live than the others?
TESMAN. Good Lord, no—I mean, he simply can’t take his pleasures in moderation.
HEDDA. Well, what happened then—at the end?
TESMAN. I suppose I’d have to say it turned into an orgy, Hedda.
HEDDA. Were there vine leaves in his hair?
TESMAN. Vine leaves? Not that I noticed. But he gave a long, muddled speech in honor of the woman who’d inspired his work. Yes, that was his phrase for it.
HEDDA. Did he give her name?
TESMAN. No, he didn’t. But it seems to me it has to be Mrs. Elvsted. Wait and see!
HEDDA. Oh? Where did you leave him?
TESMAN. On the way here. We broke up—the last of us—all together. And Brack came along with us too, to get a little fresh air. And then we did want to make sure that Eilert got home safe. Because he really had a load on, you know.
HEDDA. He must have.
TESMAN. But here’s the curious part of it, Hedda. Or perhaps I should say, the distressing part. Oh, I’m almost ashamed to speak of it—for Eilert’s sake—
HEDDA. Yes, go on—
TESMAN. Well, as we were walking toward town, you see, I happened to drop back a little behind the others. Only for a minute or two—you follow me?
HEDDA. Yes, yes, so—?
TESMAN. And then when I was catching up with the rest of them, what do you think I found on the sidewalk? Uh?
HEDDA. Oh, how should I know!
TESMAN. You mustn’t breathe a word to anyone, Hedda—you hear me? Promise me that, for Eilert’s sake. (Takes a manila envelope out of his coat pocket.) Just think—I found this.
HEDDA. Isn’t that what he had with him yesterday?
TESMAN. That’s right. It’s the whole of his precious, irreplaceable manuscript. And he went and lost it—without even noticing. Can you imagine, Hedda! How distressing—
HEDDA. But why didn’t you give it right back to him?
TESMAN. No, I didn’t dare do that—in the state he was in—
HEDDA. And you didn’t tell any of the others you’d found it?
TESMAN. Of course not. I’d never do that, you know—for Eilert’s sake.
HEDDA. Then there’s no one who knows you have Eilert Løvborg’s manuscript?
TESMAN. No. And no one must ever know, either.
HEDDA. What did you say to him afterwards?
TESMAN. I had no chance at all to speak with him. As soon as we reached the edge of town, he and a couple of others got away from us and disappeared. Imagine!
HEDDA. Oh? I expect they saw him home.
TESMAN. Yes, they probably did, I suppose. And also Brack went home.
HEDDA. And where’ve you been carrying on since then?
TESMAM. Well, I and some of the others—we were invited up by one of the fellows and had morning coffee at his place. Or a post-midnight snack, maybe—uh? But as soon as I’ve had a little rest—and given poor Eilert time to sleep it off, then I’ve got to take this back to him.
HEDDA (reaching out for the envelope). No—don’t give it back! Not yet, I mean. Let me read it first.
TESMAN. Hedda dearest, no. My Lord, I can’t do that.
HEDDA. You can’t?
TESMAN. No. Why, you can just imagine the anguish he’ll feel when he wakes up and misses the manuscript. He hasn’t any copy of it, you know. He told me that himself.
HEDDA (looks searchingly at him). Can’t such a work be rewritten? I mean, over again?
TESMAN. Oh, I don’t see how it could. Because the inspiration, you know—
HEDDA. Yes, yes—that’s the thing, I suppose. (Casually.) Oh, by the way—there’s a letter for you.
TESMAN. No, really—?
HEDDA (handing it to him). It came early this morning.
TESMAN. Dear, from Aunt Julie! What could that be? (Sets the envelope on the other taboret, opens the letter, skims through it, and springs to his feet.) Oh, Hedda—she says poor Auntie Rina’s dying!
HEDDA. It’s no more than we’ve been expecting.
TESMAN. And if I want to see her one last time, I’ve got to hurry. I’ll have to hop right over.
HEDDA (suppressing a smile). Hop?
TESMAN. Oh, Hedda dearest, if you could only bring yourself to come with me! Think of it!
HEDDA (rises and dismisses the thought wearily). No, no, don’t ask me to do such things. I don’t want to look on sickness and death. I want to be free of everything ugly.
TESMAN. Yes, all right, then— (Dashing about.) My hat—? My overcoat—? Oh, in the hall—I do hope I’m not there too late, Hedda! Hm?
HEDDA. Oh, if you just hop to it—
(BERTA appears at the hall door.)
BERTA. Judge Brack’s outside, asking if he might stop in.
TESMAN. At a time like this! No, I can’t possibly see him now.
HEDDA. But I can. (To berta.) Ask the judge to come in.
(BERTA goes out.)
HEDDA (quickly, in a whisper). Tesman, the manuscript! (She snatches it from the taboret.)
TESMAN. Yes, give it here!
HEDDA. No, no, I’ll keep it till you’re back.
(She moves over to the writing table and slips it in the bookcase. TESMAN stands flustered, unable to get his gloves on. BRACK enters from the hall.)
HEDDA. Well, aren’t you the early bird.
BRACK. Yes, wouldn’t you say so? (To TESMAN.) Are you off and away too?
TESMAN. Yes, I absolutely have to get over to my aunts’. Just think—the invalid one, she’s dying.
BRACK. Good Lord, she is? But then you mustn’t let me detain you. Not at a moment like this—
TESMAN. Yes, I really must run— Good-bye! Good-bye! (He goes hurriedly out the hall door.)
HEDDA. It would seem you had quite a time of it last night, Judge.
BRACK. I’ve not been out of my clothes yet, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA. Not you, either?
BRACK. No, as you can see. But what’s Tesman been telling you about our night’s adventures?
HEDDA. Oh, some tedious tale. Something about stopping up somewhere for coffee.
BRACK. Yes, I know all about the coffee party. Eilert Løvborg wasn’t with them, I expect?
HEDDA. No, they’d already taken him home.
BRACK. Tesman, as well.
HEDDA. No, but he said some others had.
BRACK (smiles). George Tesman is really a simple soul, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA. God knows he’s that. But was there something else that went on?
BRACK. Oh, you might say so.
HEDDA. Well, now! Let’s sit down, Judge; you’ll talk more easily then.
(She sits at the left-hand side of the table, with BRACK at the long side, near her.)
HEDDA. So?
BRACK. I had particular reasons for keeping track of my guests—or, I should say, certain of my guests, last night.
HEDDA. And among them Eilert Løvborg, perhaps?
BRACK. To be frank—yes.
HEDDA. Now you really have me curious—
BRACK. You know where he and a couple of the others spent the rest of the night, Mrs. Hedda?
HEDDA. Tell me—if it’s fit to be told.
BRACK. Oh, it’s very much fit to be told. Well, it seems they showed up at a quite animated soirée.
HEDDA. Of the lively sort.
BRACK. Of the liveliest.
HEDDA. Do go on, Judge—
BRACK. Løvborg, and the others also, had advance invitations. I knew all about it. But Løvborg had begged off, because now, of course, he was supposed to have become a new man, as you know.
HEDDA. Up at the Elvsteds’, yes. But he went anyway?
BRACK. Well, you see, Mrs. Hedda—unfortunately the spirit moved him up at my place last evening—
HEDDA. Yes, I hear that he was inspired there.
BRACK. To a very powerful degree, I’d say. Well, so his mind turned to other things, that’s clear. We males, sad to say—we’re not always so true to principle as we ought to be.
HEDDA. Oh, I’m sure you’re an exception, Judge. But what about Løvborg—?
BRACK. Well, to cut it short—the result was that he wound up in Mademoiselle Diana’s parlors.
HEDDA. Mademoiselle Diana’s?
BRACK. It was Mademoiselle Diana who was holding the soirée. For a select circle of lady friends and admirers.
HEDDA. Is she a redhaired woman?
BRACK. Precisely.
HEDDA. Sort of a—singer?
BRACK. Oh yes—she’s that too. And also a mighty huntress—of men, Mrs. Hedda. You’ve undoubtedly heard about her. Løvborg was one of her ruling favorites—back there in his palmy days.
HEDDA. And how did all this end?
BRACK. Less amicably, it seems. She gave him a most tender welcoming, with open arms, but before long she’d taken to fists.
HEDDA. Against Løvborg?
BRACK. That’s right. He accused her or her friends of having robbed him. He claimed that his wallet was missing—along with some other things. In short, he must have made a frightful scene.
HEDDA. And what did it come to?
BRACK. It came to a regular free-for-all, the men and the women both. Luckily the police finally got there.
HEDDA. The police too?
BRACK. Yes. But it’s likely to prove an expensive little romp for Eilert Løvborg. That crazy fool.
HEDDA. So?
BRACK. He apparently made violent resistance. Struck one of the officers on the side of the head and ripped his coat. So they took him along to the station house.
HEDDA. Where did you hear all this?
BRACK. From the police themselves.
HEDDA (gazing straight ahead). So that’s how it went. Then he had no vine leaves in his hair.
BRACK. Vine leaves, Mrs. Hedda?
HEDDA (changing her tone). But tell me, Judge—just why do you go around like this, spying on Eilert Løvborg?
BRACK. In the first place, it’s hardly a matter of no concern to me, if it’s brought out during the investigation that he’d come direct from my house.
HEDDA. There’ll be an investigation—?
BRACK. Naturally. Anyway, that takes care of itself. But I felt that as a friend of the family I owed you and Tesman a full account of his nocturnal exploits.
HEDDA. Why, exactly?
BRACK. Well, because I have a strong suspicion that he’ll try to use you as a kind of screen.
HEDDA. Oh, how could you ever think such a thing!
BRACK. Good Lord—we’re really not blind, Mrs. Hedda. You’ll see! This Mrs. Elvsted, she won’t be going home now so quickly.
HEDDA. Well, even supposing there were something between them, there are plenty of other places where they could meet.
BRACK. Not one single home. From now on, every decent house will be closed to Eilert Løvborg.
HEDDA. So mine ought to be too, is that what you mean?
BRACK. Yes. I’ll admit I’d find it more than annoying if that gentleman were to have free access here. If he came like an intruder, an irrelevancy, forcing his way into—
HEDDA. Into the triangle?
BRACK. Precisely. It would almost be like turning me out of my home.
HEDDA (looks at him with a smile). I see. The one cock of the walk—that’s what you want to be.
BRACK (nodding slowly and lowering his voice). Yes, that’s what I want to be. And that’s what I’ll fight for— with every means at my disposal.
HEDDA (her smile vanishing). You can be a dangerous person, can’t you—in a tight corner.
BRACK. Do you think so?
HEDDA. Yes, now I’m beginning to think so. And I’m thoroughly grateful—that you have no kind of hold over me.
BRACK (with an ambiguous laugh). Ah, yes, Mrs. Hedda—perhaps you’re right about that. If I had, then who knows just what I might do?
HEDDA. Now you listen here, Judge! That sounds too much like a threat.
BRACK (rising). Oh, nothing of the kind! A triangle, after all—is best fortified and defended by volunteers.
HEDDA. There we’re agreed.
BRACK. Well, now that I’ve said all I have to say, I’d better get back to town. Good-bye, Mrs. Hedda. (He goes toward the glass door.)
HEDDA (rising). Are you going through the garden?
BRACK. Yes, I find it’s shorter.
HEDDA. Yes, and then it’s the back way, too.
BRACK. How true. I have nothing against back ways. At certain times they can be rather piquant.
HEDDA. You mean, when somebody’s sharpshooting?
BRACK (in the doorway, laughing). Oh, people don’t shoot their tame roosters!
HEDDA (also laughing). I guess not. Not when there’s only one—
(Still laughing, they nod good-bye to each other. He goes. She shuts the door after him, then stands for a moment, quite serious, looking out. She then goes over and glances through the curtains to the inner room. Moves to the writing table, takes LøVBORG’S envelope from the bookcase, and is about to page through it, when BERTA’s voice is heard loudly in the hall. HEDDA turns and listens. She hurriedly locks the envelope in the drawer and lays the key on the desk. EILERT LøVBORG, with his overcoat on and his hat in his hand, throws open the hall door. He looks confused and excited.)
LøVBORG (turned toward the hall). And I’m telling you, I have to go in! I will, you hear me! (He shuts the door, turns, sees HEDDA, immediately gains control of himself and bows.)
HEDDA (at the writing table). Well, Mr. Løvborg, it’s late to call for Thea.
LøVBORG. Or rather early to call on you. You must forgive me.
HEDDA. How did you know she was still with me?
LøVBORG. They said at her lodgings that she’d been out all night.
HEDDA (goes to the center table). Did you notice anything in their faces when they said that?
LøVBORG (looking at her inquiringly). Notice anything?
HEDDA. I mean, did it look like they had their own thoughts on the matter?
LøVBORG (suddenly understanding). Oh yes, that’s true! I’m dragging her down with me! Actually, I didn’t notice anything. Tesman—I don’t suppose he’s up yet?
HEDDA. No, I don’t think so.
LøVBORG. When did he get in?
HEDDA. Very late.
LøVBORG. Did he tell you anything?
HEDDA. Well, I heard you’d had a high time of it out at Judge Brack’s.
LøVBORG. Anything else?
HEDDA. No, I don’t think so. As a matter of fact, I was terribly sleepy—
(MRS. ELVSTED comes in through the curtains to the inner room.)
MRS. ELVSTED (running toward him). Oh, Eilert! At last—!
LøVBORG. Yes, at last. And too late.
MRS. ELVSTED (looking anxiously at him). What’s too late?
LøVBORG. Everything’s too late now. It’s over with me.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh no, no—don’t say that!
LøVBORG. You’ll say the same thing when you’ve heard—
MRS. ELVSTED. I won’t hear anything!
HEDDA. Maybe you’d prefer to talk with her alone. I can leave.
LøVBORG. No, stay—you too. Please.
MRS. ELVSTED. But I tell you, I don’t want to hear anything!
LøVBORG. It’s nothing about last night.
MRS. ELVSTED. What is it, then—?
LøVBORG. It’s simply this, that from now on, we separate.
MRS. ELVSTED. Separate!
HEDDA (involuntarily). I knew it!
LøVBORG. Because I have no more use for you, Thea.
MRS. ELVSTED. And you can stand there and say that! No more use for me! Then I’m not going to help you now, as I have? We’re not going to go on working together?
LøVBORG. I have no plans for any more work.
MRS. ELVSTED (in desperation). Then what will I do with my life?
LøVBORG. You must try to go on living as if you’d never known me.
MRS. ELVSTED. But I can’t do that!
LøVBORG. You must try to, Thea. You’ll have to go home again—
MRS. ELVSTED (in a fury of protest). Never! No! Where you are, that’s where I want to be! I won’t be driven away like this! I’m going to stay right here—and be together with you when the book comes out.
HEDDA (in a tense whisper). Ah, yes—the book!
LøVBORG (looks at her). My book and Thea’s—for that’s what it is.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, that’s what I feel it is. And that’s why I have the right, as well, to be with you when it comes out. I want to see you covered with honor and respect again. And the joy—I want to share the joy of it with you too.
LøVBORG. Thea—our book’s never coming out.
HEDDA. Ah!
MRS. ELVSTED. Never coming out!
LøVBORG. Can never come out.
MRS. ELVSTED (with anguished foreboding). Eilert— what have you done with the manuscript?
HEDDA (watching him intently). Yes, the manuscript—?
MRS. ELVSTED. Where is it!
LøVBORG. Oh, Thea—don’t ask me that.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, yes, I have to know. I’ve got a right to know, this minute!
LøVBORG. The manuscript—well, you see—I tore the manuscript into a thousand pieces.
MRS. ELVSTED (screams). Oh no, no—!
HEDDA (involuntarily). But that just isn’t—!
LøVBORG (looks at her). Isn’t so, you think?
HEDDA (composing herself). All right. Of course; if you say it yourself. But it sounds so incredible—
LøVBORG. It’s true, all the same.
MRS. ELVSTED (wringing her hands). Oh, God—oh, God, Hedda—to tear his own work to bits!
LøVBORG. I’ve torn my own life to bits. So why not tear up my life’s work as well—
MRS. ELVSTED. And you did this thing last night!
LøVBORG. Yes, you heard me. In a thousand pieces. And scattered them into the fjord. Far out. At least there, there’s clean salt water. Let them drift out to sea—drift with the tide and the wind. And after a while, they’ll sink. Deeper and deeper. As I will, Thea.
MRS. ELVSTED. Do you know, Eilert, this thing you’ve done with the book—for the rest of my life it will seem to me as if you’d killed a little child.
LøVBORG. You’re right. It was like murdering a child.
MRS. ELVSTED. But how could you do it—! It was my child too.
HEDDA (almost inaudible). Ah, the child—
MRS. ELVSTED (breathes heavily). Then it is all over. Yes, yes, I’m going now, Hedda.
HEDDA. But you’re not leaving town, are you?
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, I don’t know myself what I’ll do. Everything’s dark for me now. (She goes out the hall door.)
HEDDA (stands waiting a moment). You’re not going to take her home, then, Mr. Løvborg?
LøVBORG. I? Through the streets? So people could see that she’d been with me?
HEDDA. I don’t know what else may have happened last night. But is it so completely irredeemable?
LøVBORG. It won’t just end with last night—I know that well enough. But the thing is, I’ve lost all desire for that kind of life. I don’t want to start it again, not now. It’s the courage and daring for life—that’s what she’s broken in me.
HEDDA (staring straight ahead). To think that pretty little fool could have a man’s fate in her hands. (Looks at him.) But still, how could you treat her so heartlessly?
LøVBORG. Oh, don’t say it was heartless!
HEDDA. To go ahead and destroy what’s filled her whole being for months and years! That’s not heartless?
LøVBORG. To you, Hedda—I can tell the truth.
HEDDA. The truth?
LøVBORG. Promise me first—give me your word that what I tell you now, you’ll never let Thea know.
HEDDA. You have my word.
LøVBORG. Good. I can tell you, then, that what I said here just now isn’t true.
HEDDA. About the manuscript?
LøVBORG. Yes. I didn’t tear it up—or throw it in the fjord.
HEDDA. No, but—where is it, then?
LøVBORG. I’ve destroyed it all the same, Hedda. Utterly destroyed it.
HEDDA. I don’t understand.
LøVBORG. Thea said that what I’ve done, for her was like killing a child.
HEDDA. Yes—that’s what she said.
LøVBORG. But killing his child—that’s not the worst thing a father can do.
HEDDA. That’s not the worst?
LøVBORG. No. I wanted to spare Thea the worst.
HEDDA. And what’s that—the worst?
LøVBORG. Suppose now, Hedda, that a man—in the early morning hours, say—after a wild, drunken night, comes home to his child’s mother and says: “Listen—I’ve been out to this place and that—here and there. And I had our child with me. In this place and that. And I lost the child. Just lost it. God only knows what hands it’s come into. Or who’s got hold of it.”
HEDDA. Well—but when all’s said and done—it was only a book—
LøVBORG. Thea’s pure soul was in that book.
HEDDA. Yes, I understand.
LøVBORG. Well, then you can understand that for her and me there’s no future possible any more.
HEDDA. What do you intend to do?
LøVBORG. Nothing. Just put an end to it all. The sooner the better.
HEDDA (coming a step closer). Eilert Løvborg—listen to me. Couldn’t you arrange that—that it’s done beautifully?
LøVBORG. Beautifully? (Smiles.) With vine leaves in my hair, as you used to dream in the old days—
HEDDA. No. I don’t believe in vine leaves any more. But beautifully, all the same. For this once—! Good-bye! You must go now—and never come here again.
LøVBORG. Good-bye, then. And give my best to George Tesman. (He turns to leave.)
HEDDA. No, wait. I want you to have a souvenir from me.
(She goes to the writing desk and opens the drawer and the pistol case, then comes back to LøVBORG with one of the pistols.)
LøVBORG (looks at her). That? Is that the souvenir?
HEDDA (nods slowly). Do you recognize it? It was aimed at you once.
LøVBORG. You should have used it then.
HEDDA. Here! Use it now.
LøVBORG (puts the pistol in his breast pocket). Thanks.
HEDDA. And beautifully, Eilert Løvborg. Promise me that!
LøVBORG. Good-bye, Hedda Gabler.
(He goes out the hall door. HEDDA listens a moment at the door. Then she goes over to the writing table, takes out the envelope with the manuscript, glances inside, pulls some of the sheets half out and looks at them. She then goes over to the armchair by the stove and sits, with the envelope in her lap. After a moment, she opens the stove door, then brings out the manuscript.)
HEDDA (throwing some of the sheets into the fire and whispering to herself). Now I’m burning your child, Thea! You, with your curly hair! (Throwing another sheaf in the stove.) Your child and Eilert Løvborg’s. (Throwing in the rest.) Now I’m burning—I’m burning the child.