The same rooms at the TESMANS’. It is evening. The drawing room is in darkness. The inner room is lit by the hanging lamp over the table. The curtains are drawn across the glass door. HEDDA, dressed in black, is pacing back and forth in the dark room. She then enters the inner room, moving out of sight toward the left. Several chords are heard on the piano. She comes in view again, returning into the drawing room. BERTA enters from the right through the inner room with a lighted lamp, which she puts on the table in front of the settee in the drawing room. Her eyes are red from crying, and she has black ribbons on her cap. She goes quietly and discreetly out to the right. HEDDA moves to the glass door, lifts the curtains aside slightly, and gazes out into the darkness.
Shortly after, MISS TESMAN, in mourning, with a hat and veil, comes in from the hall. HEDDA goes toward her, extending her hand.
MISS TESMAN. Well, Hedda, here I am, all dressed in mourning. My poor sister’s ordeal is finally over.
HEDDA. As you see, I’ve already heard. Tesman sent me a note.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, he promised he would. But all the same I thought that, to Hedda—here in the house of life— I ought to bear the news of death myself.
HEDDA. That was very kind of you.
MISS TESMAN. Ah, Rina ought not to have passed on just now. This is no time for grief in Hedda’s house.
HEDDA (changing the subject). She had a peaceful death, then, Miss Tesman?
MISS TESMAN. Oh, she went so calmly, so beautifully. And so inexpressibly happy that she could see George once again. And say good-bye to him properly. Is it possible that he’s still not home?
HEDDA. No, he wrote that I shouldn’t expect him too early. But won’t you sit down?
MISS TESMAN. No, thank you, my dear—blessed Hedda. I’d love to, but I have so little time. I want to see her dressed and made ready as best as I can. She should go to her grave looking her finest.
HEDDA. Can’t I help you with something?
MISS TESMAN. Oh, you mustn’t think of it. This is nothing for Hedda Tesman to put her hands to. Or let her thoughts dwell on, either. Not at a time like this, no.
HEDDA. Ah, thoughts—they’re not so easy to control—
MISS TESMAN (continuing). Well, there’s life for you. At my house now we’ll be sewing a shroud for Rina. And here, too, there’ll be sewing soon, I imagine. But a far different kind, praise God!
(GEORGE TESMAN enters from the hall.)
HEDDA. Well, at last! It’s about time.
TESMAN. Are you here, Aunt Julie? With Hedda? Think of that!
MISS TESMAN. I was just this minute leaving, dear boy. Well, did you get done all you promised you would?
TESMAN. No, I’m really afraid I’ve forgotten half. I’ll have to run over and see you tomorrow. My brain’s completely in a whirl today. I can’t keep my thoughts together.
MISS TESMAN. But George dear, you mustn’t take it that way.
TESMAN. Oh? Well, how should I, then?
MISS TESMAN. You should rejoice in your grief. Rejoice in everything that’s happened, as I do.
TESMAN. Oh yes, of course. You’re thinking of Auntie Rina.
HEDDA. It’s going to be lonely for you, Miss Tesman.
MISS TESMAN. For the first few days, yes. But it won’t be for long, I hope. I won’t let dear Rina’s little room stand empty.
TESMAN. No? Who would you want to have in it? Hm?
MISS TESMAN. Oh, there’s always some poor invalid in need of care and attention.
HEDDA. Would you really take another burden like that on yourself?
MISS TESMAN. Burden! Mercy on you, child—it’s been no burden for me.
HEDDA. But now, with a stranger—
MISS TESMAN. Oh, you soon make friends with an invalid. And I do so much need someone to live for—I, too. Well, thank God, in this house as well, there soon ought to be work that an old aunt can turn her hand to.
HEDDA. Oh, forget about us—
TESMAN. Yes, think how pleasant it could be for the three of us if—
HEDDA. If—?
TESMAN (uneasily). Oh, nothing. It’ll all take care of itself. Let’s hope so. Uh?
MISS TESMAN. Ah, yes. Well, I expect you two have things to talk about. (Smiles.) And perhaps Hedda has something to tell you, George. Good-bye. I’ll have to get home now to Rina. (Turning at the door.) Goodness me, how strange! Now Rina’s both with me and with poor dear Jochum as well.
TESMAN. Yes, imagine that, Aunt Julie! Hm?
(MISS TESMAN goes out the hall door.)
HEDDA (follows TESMAN with a cold, probing look). I almost think you feel this death more than she.
TESMAN. Oh, it’s not just Auntie Rina’s death. It’s Eilert who has me worried.
HEDDA (quickly). Any news about him?
TESMAN. I stopped up at his place this afternoon, thinking to tell him that the manuscript was safe.
HEDDA. Well? Didn’t you see him then?
TESMAN. No, he wasn’t home. But afterward I met Mrs. Elvsted, and she said he’d been here early this morning.
HEDDA. Yes, right after you left.
TESMAN. And apparently he said he’d torn his manuscript up. Uh?
HEDDA. Yes, he claimed that he had.
TESMAN. But good Lord, then he must have been completely demented! Well, then I guess you didn’t dare give it back to him, Hedda, did you?
HEDDA. No, he didn’t get it.
TESMAN. But you did tell him we had it, I suppose?
HEDDA. No. (Quickly.) Did you tell Mrs. Elvsted anything?
TESMAN. No, I thought I’d better not. But you should have said something to him. Just think, if he goes off in desperation and does himself some harm! Give me the manuscript, Hedda! I’m taking it back to him right away. Where do you have it?
HEDDA (cold and impassive, leaning against the armchair). I don’t have it anymore.
TESMAN. You don’t have it! What on earth do you mean by that?
HEDDA. I burned it—the whole thing.
TESMAN (with a start of terror). Burned it! Burned Eilert Løvborg’s manuscript!
HEDDA. Stop shouting. The maid could hear you.
TESMAN. Burned it! But my God in heaven—! No, no, no—that’s impossible!
HEDDA. Yes, but it’s true, all the same.
TESMAN. But do you realize what you’ve done, Hedda! It’s illegal disposition of lost property. Just think! Yes, you can ask Judge Brack; he’ll tell you.
HEDDA. It would be wiser not mentioning this—either to the judge or to anyone else.
TESMAN. But how could you go and do such an incredible thing! Whatever put it into your head? What got into you, anyway? Answer me! Well?
HEDDA (suppressing an almost imperceptible smile). I did it for your sake, George.
TESMAN. For my sake!
HEDDA. When you came home this morning and told about how he’d read to you—
TESMAN. Yes, yes, then what?
HEDDA. Then you confessed that you envied him this book.
TESMAN. Good Lord, I didn’t mean it literally.
HEDDA. Never mind. I still couldn’t bear the thought that anyone should eclipse you.
TESMAN (in an outburst of mingled doubt and joy). Hedda—is this true, what you say! Yes, but—but—I never dreamed you could show your love like this. Imagine!
HEDDA. Well, then it’s best you know that—that I’m going to— (Impatiently, breaking off.) No, no—you ask your Aunt Julie. She’s the one who can tell you.
TESMAN. Oh, I’m beginning to understand you, Hedda! (Claps his hands together.) Good heavens, no! Is it actually that! Can it be? Uh?
HEDDA. Don’t shout so. The maid can hear you.
TESMAN. The maid! Oh, Hedda, you’re priceless, really! The maid—but that’s Berta! Why, I’ll go out and tell her myself.
HEDDA (clenching her fists in despair). Oh, I’ll die—I’ll die of all this!
TESMAN. Of what, Hedda? Uh?
HEDDA. Of all these—absurdities—George.
TESMAN. Absurdities? What’s absurd about my being so happy? Well, all right—I guess there’s no point in my saying anything to Berta.
HEDDA. Oh, go ahead—why not that, too?
TESMAN. No, no, not yet. But Aunt Julie will have to hear. And then, that you’ve started to call me George, too! Imagine! Oh, Aunt Julie will be so glad—so glad!
HEDDA. When she hears that I burned Eilert Løvborg’s book—for your sake?
TESMAN. Well, as far as that goes—this thing with the book—of course, no one’s to know about that. But that you have a love that burns for me, Hedda—Aunt Julie can certainly share in that! You know, I wonder, really, if things such as this are common among young wives? Hm?
HEDDA. I think you should ask Aunt Julie about that, too.
TESMAN. Yes, I’ll do it definitely, when I have the chance. (Again looks distressed and preoccupied.) No, but— but the manuscript! My Lord, it’s just terrible to think about poor Eilert.
(MRS. ELVSTED, dressed as on her first visit, with hat and coat, comes in the hall door.)
MRS. ELVSTED (greets them hurriedly and speaks in agitation). Oh, Hedda dear, don’t be annoyed that I’m back again.
HEDDA. Has something happened, Thea?
TESMAN. Something with Eilert Løvborg? Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, I’m so terribly afraid he’s met with an accident.
HEDDA (seizing her arm). Ah—you think so!
TESMAN. But, Mrs. Elvsted, where did you get that idea?
MRS. ELVSTED. Well, because I heard them speaking of him at the boardinghouse, just as I came in. Oh, there are the most incredible rumors about him in town today.
TESMAN. Yes, you know, I heard them too! And yet I could swear that he went right home to bed last night. Imagine!
HEDDA. Well—what did they say at the boardinghouse?
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, I couldn’t get anything clearly. They either didn’t know much themselves, or else—They stopped talking when they saw me. And I didn’t dare to ask.
TESMAN (restlessly moving about). Let’s hope—let’s hope you misunderstood them, Mrs. Elvsted!
MRS. ELVSTED. No, no, I’m sure they were talking of him. And then I heard them say something or other about the hospital, or—
TESMAN. The hospital!
HEDDA. No—but that’s impossible!
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, I’m so deathly afraid for him now. And later I went up to his lodging to ask about him.
HEDDA. But was that very wise to do, Thea?
MRS. ELVSTED. What else could I do? I couldn’t bear the uncertainty any longer.
TESMAN. But didn’t you find him there either? Hm?
MRS. ELVSTED. No. And no one had any word of him. He hadn’t been in since yesterday afternoon, they said.
TESMAN. Yesterday! Imagine them saying that!
MRS. ELVSTED. I think there can only be one reason— something terrible must have happened to him!
TESMAN. Hedda dear—suppose I went over and made a few inquiries—
HEDDA. No, no—don’t you get mixed up in this business.
(JUDGE BRACK, with hat in hand, enters from the hall, BERTA letting him in and shutting the door after him. He looks grave and bows silently.)
TESMAN. Oh, is that you, Judge? Uh?
BRACK. Yes, it’s imperative that I see you this evening.
TESMAN. I can see that you’ve heard the news from Aunt Julie.
BRACK. Among other things, yes.
TESMAN. It’s sad, isn’t it? Uh?
BRACK. Well, my dear Tesman, that depends on how you look at it.
TESMAN (eyes him doubtfully). Has anything else happened?
BRACK. Yes, as a matter of fact.
HEDDA (intently). Something distressing, Judge?
BRACK. Again, that depends on how you look at it, Mrs. Tesman.
MRS. ELVSTED (in an uncontrollable outburst). Oh, it’s something about Eilert Løvborg!
BRACK (glancing at her). Now how did you hit upon that, Mrs. Elvsted? Have you, perhaps, heard something already—?
MRS. ELVSTED (in confusion). No, no, nothing like that—but—
TESMAN. Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell us!
BRACK (with a shrug). Well—I’m sorry, but—Eilert Løvborg’s been taken to the hospital. He’s dying.
MRS. ELVSTED (crying out). Oh, God, oh, God—!
TESMAN. To the hospital! And dying!
HEDDA (involuntarily). All so soon—!
MRS. ELVSTED (wailing). And we parted in anger, Hedda!
HEDDA (in a whisper). Thea—be careful, Thea!
MRS. ELVSTED (ignoring her). I have to see him! I have to see him alive!
BRACK. No use, Mrs. Elvsted. No one’s allowed in to see him.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, but tell me, at least, what happened to him! What is it?
TESMAN. Don’t tell me he tried to—! Uh?
HEDDA. Yes, he did, I’m sure of it.
TESMAN. Hedda—how can you say—!
BRACK (his eyes steadily on her). Unhappily, you’ve guessed exactly right, Mrs. Tesman.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, how horrible!
TESMAN. Did it himself! Imagine!
HEDDA. Shot himself!
BRACK. Again, exactly right, Mrs. Tesman.
MRS. ELVSTED (trying to control herself). When did it happen, Mr. Brack?
BRACK. This afternoon. Between three and four.
TESMAN. But good Lord—where did he do it, then? Hm?
BRACK (hesitating slightly). Where? Why—in his room, I suppose.
MRS. ELVSTED. No, that can’t be right. I was there between six and seven.
BRACK. Well, somewhere else, then. I don’t know exactly. I only know he was found like that. Shot—in the chest.
MRS. ELVSTED. What a horrible thought! That he should end that way!
HEDDA (to BRACK). In the chest, you say.
BRACK. Yes—I told you.
HEDDA. Not the temple?
BRACK. In the chest, Mrs. Tesman.
HEDDA. Well—well, the chest is just as good.
BRACK. Why, Mrs. Tesman?
HEDDA (evasively). Oh, nothing—never mind.
TESMAN. And the wound is critical, you say? Uh?
BRACK. The wound is absolutely fatal. Most likely, it’s over already.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, yes, I can feel that it is! It’s over! All over! Oh, Hedda—!
TESMAN. But tell me now—how did you learn about this?
BRACK (brusquely). One of the police. Someone I had to talk to.
HEDDA (in a clear, bold voice.) At last, something truly done!
TESMAN (shocked). My God, what are you saying, Hedda!
HEDDA. I’m saying there’s beauty in all this.
BRACK. Hm, Mrs. Tesman—
TESMAN. Beauty! What an idea!
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, Hedda, how can you talk about beauty in such a thing?
HEDDA. Eilert Løvborg’s settled accounts with himself. He’s had the courage to do what—what had to be done.
MRS. ELVSTED. Don’t you believe it! It never happened like that. When he did this, he was in a delirium!
TESMAN. In despair, you mean.
HEDDA. No, he wasn’t. I’m certain of that.
MRS. ELVSTED. But he was! In delirium! The way he was when he tore up our book.
BRACK (startled). The book? His manuscript, you mean? He tore it up?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes. Last night.
TESMAN (in a low whisper). Oh, Hedda, we’ll never come clear of all this.
BRACK. Hm, that’s very strange.
TESMAN (walking about the room). To think Eilert could be gone like that! And then not to have left behind the one thing that could have made his name live on.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, if it could only be put together again!
TESMAN. Yes, imagine if that were possible! I don’t know what I wouldn’t give—
MRS. ELVSTED. Perhaps it can, Mr. Tesman.
TESMAN. What do you mean?
MRS. ELVSTED (searching in the pockets of her dress). Look here. I’ve kept all these notes that he used to dictate from.
HEDDA (coming a step closer). Ah—!
TESMAN. You’ve kept them, Mrs. Elvsted! Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, here they are. I took them along when I left home. And they’ve stayed right here in my pocket—
TESMAN. Oh, let me look!
MRS. ELVSTED (hands him a sheaf of small papers). But they’re in such a mess. All mixed up.
TESMAN. But just think, if we could decipher them, even so! Maybe the two of us could help each other—
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh yes! At least, we could try—
TESMAN. We can do it! We must! I’ll give my whole life to this!
HEDDA. You, George. Your life?
TESMAN. Yes. Or, let’s say, all the time I can spare. My own research will have to wait. You can understand, Hedda. Hm! It’s something I owe to Eilert’s memory.
HEDDA. Perhaps.
TESMAN. And so, my dear Mrs. Elvsted, let’s pull ourselves together. Good Lord, there’s no use brooding over what’s gone by. Uh? We must try to compose our thoughts as much as we can, in order that—
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, yes, Mr. Tesman, I’ll do the best I can.
TESMAN. Come on, then. Let’s look over these notes right away. Where shall we sit? Here? No, in there, in the back room. Excuse us, Judge. You come with me, Mrs. Elvsted.
MRS. ELVSTED. Dear God—if only we can do this!
(TESMAN and MRS. ELVSTED go into the inner room. She takes off her hat and coat. They both sit at the table under the hanging lamp and become totally immersed in examining the papers. HEDDA goes toward the stove and sits in the armchair. After a moment, BRACK goes over by her.)
HEDDA (her voice lowered). Ah, Judge—what a liberation it is, this act of Eilert Løvborg’s.
BRACK. Liberation, Mrs. Hedda? Well, yes, for him; you could certainly say he’s been liberated—
HEDDA. I mean for me. It’s liberating to know that there can still actually be a free and courageous action in this world. Something that shimmers with spontaneous beauty.
BRACK (smiling). Hm—my dear Mrs. Hedda—
HEDDA. Oh, I already know what you’re going to say. Because you’re a kind of specialist too, you know, just like— Oh, well!
BRACK (looking fixedly at her). Eilert Løvborg meant more to you than you’re willing to admit, perhaps even to yourself. Or am I wrong about that?
HEDDA. I won’t answer that sort of question. I simply know that Eilert Løvborg’s had the courage to live life after his own mind. And now—this last great act, filled with beauty! That he had the strength and the will to break away from the banquet of life—so young.
BRACK. It grieves me, Mrs. Hedda—but I’m afraid I have to disburden you of this beautiful illusion.
HEDDA. Illusion?
BRACK. One that, in any case, you’d soon be deprived of.
HEDDA. And what’s that?
BRACK. He didn’t shoot himself—of his own free will.
BRACK. No. This whole affair didn’t go off quite the way I described it.
HEDDA (in suspense). You’ve hidden something? What is it?
BRACK. For poor Mrs. Elvsted’s sake, I did a little editing here and there.
HEDDA. Where?
BRACK. First, the fact that he’s already dead.
HEDDA. In the hospital?
BRACK. Yes. Without regaining consciousness.
HEDDA. What else did you hide?
BRACK. That the incident didn’t occur in his room.
HEDDA. Well, that’s rather unimportant.
BRACK. Not entirely. Suppose I were to tell you that Eilert Løvborg was found shot in—in Mademoiselle Diana’s boudoir.
HEDDA (half rises, then sinks back again). That’s impossible, Judge! He wouldn’t have gone there again today!
BRACK. He was there this afternoon. He went there, demanding something he said they’d stolen from him. Kept raving about a lost child—
HEDDA. Ah—so that was it—
BRACK. I thought perhaps that might be his manuscript. But, I hear now, he destroyed that himself. So it must have been his wallet.
HEDDA. I suppose so. Then, there—that’s where they found him.
BRACK. Yes, there. With a discharged pistol in his breast pocket. The bullet had wounded him fatally.
HEDDA. In the chest—yes.
BRACK. No—in the stomach—more or less.
HEDDA (stares up at him with a look of revulsion). That too! What is it, this—this curse—that everything I touch turns ridiculous and vile?
BRACK. There’s something else, Mrs. Hedda. Another ugly aspect to the case.
HEDDA. What’s that?
BRACK. The pistol he was carrying—
HEDDA (breathlessly). Well! What about it!
BRACK. He must have stolen it.
HEDDA (springs up). Stolen! That’s not true! He didn’t!
BRACK. It seems impossible otherwise. He must have stolen it—shh!
(TESMAN and MRS. ELVSTED have gotten up from the table in the inner room and come into the drawing room.)
TESMAN (with both hands full of papers). Hedda dear—it’s nearly impossible to see in there under that overhead lamp. You know?
HEDDA. Yes, I know.
TESMAN. Do you think it would be all right if we used your table for a while? Hm?
HEDDA. Yes, I don’t mind. (Quickly.) Wait! No, let me clear it off first.
TESMAN. Oh, don’t bother, Hedda. There’s plenty of room.
HEDDA. No, no, let me just clear it off, can’t you? I’ll put all this in by the piano. There!
(She has pulled out an object covered with sheet music from under the bookcase, adds more music to it, and carries the whole thing into the inner room and off left. TESMAN puts the scraps of paper on the writing table and moves the lamp over from the corner table. He and MRS. ELVSTED sit down and go on with their work. HEDDA comes back.)
HEDDA (behind MRS. ELVSTED’S chair, gently ruffling her hair). Well, my sweet little Thea—how is it going with Eilert løvborg’s monument?
MRS. ELVSTED (looking despondently up at her). Oh, dear—it’s going to be terribly hard to set these in order.
TESMAN. It’s got to be done. There’s just no alternative. Besides, setting other people’s papers in order—it’s exactly what I can do best.
(HEDDA goes over by the stove and sits on one of the taborets. BRACK stands over her, leaning on the armchair.)
HEDDA (whispering). What did you say about the pistol?
BRACK (softly). That he must have stolen it.
HEDDA. Why, necessarily, that?
BRACK. Because every other explanation would seem impossible, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA. I see.
BRACK (glancing at her). Of course, Eilert Løvborg was here this morning. Wasn’t he?
HEDDA. Yes.
BRACK. Were you alone with him?
HEDDA. Yes, briefly.
BRACK. Did you leave the room while he was here?
HEDDA. No.
BRACK. Consider. You didn’t leave, even for a moment.
HEDDA. Well, yes, perhaps, just for a moment—into the hall.
BRACK. And where did you have your pistol case?
HEDDA. I had it put away in—
BRACK. Yes, Mrs. Hedda?
HEDDA. It was lying over there, on the writing table.
BRACK. Have you looked since to see if both pistols are there?
HEDDA. No.
BRACK. No need to. I saw the pistol. Løvborg had it on him. I knew it immediately, from yesterday. And other days too.
HEDDA. Do you have it, maybe?
BRACK. No, the police have it.
HEDDA. What will they do with it?
BRACK. Try to trace it to the owner.
HEDDA. Do you think they’ll succeed?
BRACK (bending over her and whispering). No, Hedda Gabler—as long as I keep quiet.
HEDDA (looking at him anxiously). And if you don’t keep quiet—then what?
BRACK (with a shrug). Counsel could always claim that the pistol was stolen.
HEDDA (decisively). I’d rather die!
BRACK (smiling). People say such things. But they don’t do them.
HEDDA (without answering). And what, then, if the pistol wasn’t stolen. And they found the owner. What would happen?
BRACK. Well, Hedda—there’d be a scandal.
HEDDA. A scandal!
BRACK. A scandal, yes—the kind you’re so deathly afraid of. Naturally, you’d appear in court—you and Mademoiselle Diana. She’d have to explain how the whole thing occurred. Whether it was an accident or homicide. Was he trying to pull the pistol out of his pocket to threaten her? Is that why it went off? Or had she torn the pistol out of his hand, shot him, and slipped it back in his pocket again? It’s rather like her to do that, you know. She’s a solid piece of work, this Mademoiselle Diana.
HEDDA. But all that sordid business is no concern of mine.
BRACK. No. But you’ll have to answer the question: why did you give Eilert Løvborg the pistol? And what conclusions will people draw from the fact that you did give it to him?
HEDDA (her head sinking). That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.
BRACK. Well, luckily there’s no danger, as long as I keep quiet.
HEDDA. So I’m in your power, Judge. You have your hold over me from now on.
BRACK (whispers more softly). My dearest Hedda—believe me—I won’t abuse my position.
HEDDA. All the same, I’m in your power. Tied to your will and desire. Not free. Not free, then! (Rises angrily). No—I can’t bear the thought of it. Never!
BRACK (looks at her half mockingly). One usually manages to adjust to the inevitable.
HEDDA (returning his look). Yes, perhaps so. (She goes over to the writing table. Suppressing an involuntary smile, she imitates TESMAN’s intonation.) Well? Getting on with it, George? Uh?
TESMAN. Goodness knows, dear. It’s going to mean months and months of work, in any case.
HEDDA (as before). Imagine that! (Runs her hand lightly through MRS. ELVSTED’S hair.). Don’t you find it strange, Thea? Here you are, sitting now beside Tesman—just as you used to sit with Eilert Løvborg.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, if I could only inspire your husband in the same way.
HEDDA. Oh, that will surely come—in time.
TESMAN. Yes, you know what, Hedda—I really think I’m beginning to feel something of the kind. But you go back and sit with Judge Brack.
HEDDA. Is there nothing the two of you can use me for here?
TESMAN. No, nothing in the world. (Turning his head.) From now on, Judge, you’ll have to be good enough to keep Hedda company.
BRACK (with a glance at HEDDA). I’ll take the greatest pleasure in that.
HEDDA. Thanks. But I’m tired this evening. I want to rest a while in there on the sofa.
TESMAN. Yes, do that, dear. Uh?
(HEDDA goes into the inner room, pulling the curtains closed after her. Short pause. Suddenly she is heard playing a wild dance melody on the piano.)
MRS. ELVSTED (starting up from her chair). Oh—what’s that?
TESMAN (running to the center doorway). But Hedda dearest—don’t go playing dance music tonight! Think of Auntie Rina! And Eilert, too!
HEDDA (putting her head out between the curtains). And Auntie Julie. And all the rest of them. From now on I’ll be quiet. (She closes the curtains again.)
TESMAN (at the writing table). She can’t feel very happy seeing us do this melancholy work. You know what, Mrs. Elvsted—you must move in with Aunt Julie. Then I can come over evenings. And then we can sit and work there. Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, perhaps that would be best—
HEDDA (from the inner room) I can hear everything you say, Tesman. But what will I do evenings over here?
TESMAN (leafing through the notes). Oh, I’m sure Judge Brack will be good enough to stop by and see you.
BRACK (in the armchair, calling out gaily). Gladly, every blessed evening, Mrs. Tesman! We’ll have great times here together, the two of us!
HEDDA (in a clear, ringing voice). Yes, don’t you hope so, Judge? You, the one cock of the walk—
(A shot is heard within. TESMAN, MRS. ELVSTED, and BRACK start from their chairs.)
TESMAN. Oh, now she’s fooling with those pistols again.
(He throws the curtains back and runs in. MRS. ELVSTED follows. HEDDA lies, lifeless, stretched out on the sofa. Confusion and cries. BERTA comes in, bewildered, from the right.)
TESMAN (shrieking to BRACK). Shot herself! Shot herself in the temple! Can you imagine!
BRACK (in the armchair, prostrated). But good God! People don’t do such things!