Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (236 page)

RELLING.
Well, well, one can get through the world with a wig. After all, you are a happy man, Ekdal; you have your noble mission to labour for —

HIALMAR.
And I do labour, I can tell you.

RELLING.
And then you have your excellent wife, shuffling quietly in and out in her felt slippers, with that see-saw walk of hers, and making everything cosy and comfortable about you —

HIALMAR.
Yes, Gina —
[nods to her]
— you were a good helpmate on the path of life.

GINA.
Oh, don’t sit there cricketising me.

RELLING.
And your Hedvig, too, Ekdal!

HIALMAR
[affected.]
The child, yes! The child before everything! Hedvig, come here to me.
[Strokes her hair.]
What day is it to-morrow, eh?

HEDVIG
[shaking him.]
Oh, no, you’re not to say anything, father.

HIALMAR.
It cuts me to the heart when I think what a poor affair it will be; only a little festivity in the garret —

HEDVIG.
Oh, but that’s just what I like!

RELLING.
Just you wait till the wonderful invention sees the light, Hedvig!

HIALMAR.
Yes, indeed — then you shall see — ! Hedvig, I have resolved to make your future secure. You shall live in comfort all your days. I will demand — something or other — on your behalf. That shall be the poor inventor’s sole reward.

HEDVIG
[whispering, with her arms round his neck.]
Oh, you dear, kind father!

RELLING
[to GREGERS.]
Come now, don’t you find it pleasant, for once in a way, to sit at a well-spread table in a happy family circle?

HIALMAR.
Ah, yes, I really prize these social hours.

GREGERS.
For my part, I don’t thrive in marsh vapours.

RELLING.
Marsh vapours?

HIALMAR.
Oh, don’t begin with that stuff again!

GINA.
Goodness knows there’s no vapours in this house, Mr. Werle; I give the place a good airing every blessed day.

GREGERS
[leaves the table.]
No airing you can give will drive out the taint I mean.

HIALMAR.
Taint!

GINA.
Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal!

RELLING.
Excuse me — may it not be you yourself that have brought the taint from those mines up there?

GREGERS.
It is like you to call what I bring into this house a taint.

RELLING
[goes up to him.]
Look here, Mr. Werle, junior: I have a strong suspicion that you are still carrying about that “claim of the ideal” large as life, in your coat-tail pocket.

GREGERS.
I carry it in my breast.

RELLING.
Well, wherever you carry it, I advise you not to come dunning us with it here, so long as I am on the premises.

GREGERS.
And if I do so none the less?

RELLING.
Then you’ll go head-foremost down the stairs; now I’ve warned you.

HIALMAR
[rising.]
Oh, but Relling — !

GREGERS.
Yes, you may turn me out —

GINA
[interposing between them.]
We can’t have that, Relling. But I must say, Mr. Werle, it ill becomes you to talk about vapours and taints, after all the mess you made with your stove.
[A knock at the passage door.]

HEDVIG.
Mother, there’s somebody knocking.

HIALMAR.
There now, we’re going to have a whole lot of people!

GINA.
I’ll go
[Goes over and opens the door, starts, and draws back.]
Oh — oh, dear!
[WERLE, in a fur coat, advances one step into the room.]

WERLE.
Excuse me; but I think my son is staying here.

GINA
[with a gulp.]
Yes.

HIALMAR
[approaching him.]
Won’t you do us the honour to — ?

WERLE.
Thank you, I merely wish to speak to my son.

GREGERS.
What is it? Here I am.

WERLE.
I want a few words with you, in your room.

GREGERS.
In my room? Very well —
[About to go.]

GINA.
No, no, your room’s not in a fit state —

WERLE.
Well then, out in the passage here; I want to have a few words with you alone.

HIALMAR.
You can have them here, sir. Come into the parlour, Relling.
[HIALMAR and RELLING go off to the right. GINA takes HEDVIG with her into the kitchen.]

GREGERS
[after a short pause.]
Well, now we are alone.

WERLE.
From something you let fall last evening, and from your coming to lodge with the Ekdals, I can’t help inferring that you intend to make yourself unpleasant to me, in one way or another.

GREGERS.
I intend to open Hialmar Ekdal’s eyes. He shall see his position as it really is — that is all.

WERLE.
Is that the mission in life you spoke of yesterday?

GREGERS.
Yes. You have left me no other.

WERLE.
Is it I, then, that have crippled your mind, Gregers?

GREGERS.
You have crippled my whole life. I am not thinking of all that about mother — But it’s thanks to you that I am continually haunted and harassed by a guilty conscience.

WERLE.
Indeed! It is your conscience that troubles you, is it?

GREGERS.
I ought to have taken a stand against you when the trap was set for Lieutenant Ekdal. I ought to have cautioned him; for I had a misgiving as to what was in the wind.

WERLE.
Yes, that was the time to have spoken.

GREGERS.
I did not dare to, I was so cowed and spiritless. I was mortally afraid of you — not only then, but long afterwards.

WERLE.
You have got over that fear now, it appears.

GREGERS.
Yes, fortunately. The wrong done to old Ekdal, both by me and by — others, can never be undone; but Hialmar I can rescue from all the falsehood and deception that are bringing him to ruin.

WERLE.
Do you think that will be doing him a kindness?

GREGERS.
I have not the least doubt of it.

WERLE.
You think our worthy photographer is the sort of man to appreciate such friendly offices?

GREGERS.
Yes, I do.

WERLE.
H’m — we shall see.

GREGERS.
Besides, if I am to go on living, I must try to find some cure for my sick conscience.

WERLE.
It will never be sound. Your conscience has been sickly from childhood. That is a legacy from your mother, Gregers — the only one she left you.

GREGERS
[with a scornful half-smile.]
Have you not yet forgiven her for the mistake you made in supposing she would bring you a fortune?

WERLE.
Don’t let us wander from the point. — Then you hold to your purpose of setting young Ekdal upon what you imagine to be the right scent?

GREGERS.
Yes, that is my fixed resolve.

WERLE.
Well, in that case I might have spared myself this visit; for, of course, it is useless to ask whether you will return home with me?

GREGERS.
Quite useless.

WERLE.
And I suppose you won’t enter the firm either?

GREGERS.
No.

WERLE.
Very good. But as I am thinking of marrying again, your share in the property will fall to you at once.

GREGERS
[quickly.]
No, I do not want that.

WERLE.
You don’t want it?

GREGERS.
No, I dare not take it, for conscience’ sake.

WERLE
[after a pause.]
Are you going up to the works again?

GREGERS.
No; I consider myself released from your service.

WERLE.
But what are you going to do?

GREGERS.
Only to fulfil my mission; nothing more.

WERLE.
Well but afterwards? What are you going to live upon?

GREGERS.
I have laid by a little out of my salary.

WERLE.
How long will that last?

GREGERS.
I think it will last my time.

WERLE.
What do you mean?

GREGERS.
I shall answer no more questions.

WERLE.
Good-bye then, Gregers.

GREGERS.
Good-bye.
[WERLE goes.]

HIALMAR
[peeping in.]
He’s gone, isn’t he?

GREGERS.
Yes.
[HIALMAR and RELLING enter; also GINA and HEDVIG from the kitchen.]

RELLING.
That luncheon-party was a failure.

GREGERS.
Put on your coat, Hialmar; I want you to come for a long walk with me.

HIALMAR.
With pleasure. What was it your father wanted? Had it anything to do with me?

GREGERS.
Come along. We must have a talk. I’ll go and put on my overcoat.
[Goes out by the passage door.]

GINA.
You shouldn’t go out with him, Ekdal.

RELLING.
No, don’t you do it. Stay where you are.

HIALMAR
[gets his hat and overcoat.]
Oh, nonsense! When a friend of my youth feels impelled to open his mind to me in private —

RELLING.
But devil take it — don’t you see that the fellow’s mad, cracked, demented!

GINA.
There, what did I tell you! His mother before him had crazy fits like that sometimes.

HIALMAR.
The more need for a friend’s watchful eye.
[To GINA.]
Be sure you have dinner ready in good time. Good-bye for the present.
[Goes out by the passage door.]

RELLING.
It’s a thousand pities the fellow didn’t go to hell through one of the Hoidal mines.

GINA.
Good Lord! what makes you say that?

RELLING
[muttering.]
Oh, I have my own reasons.

GINA.
Do you think young Werle is really mad?

RELLING.
No, worse luck; he’s no madder than most other people. But one disease he has certainly got in his system.

GINA.
What is it that’s the matter with him?

RELLING.
Well, I’ll tell you, Mrs. Ekdal. He is suffering from an acute attack of integrity.

GINA.
Integrity?

HEDVIG.
Is that a kind of disease?

RELLING.
Yes, it’s a national disease; but it only appears sporadically.
[Nods to GINA.]
Thanks for your hospitality.
[He goes out by the passage door.]

GINA
[moving restlessly to and fro.]
Ugh, that Gregers Werle — he was always a wretched creature.

HEDVIG
[standing by the table, and looking searchingly at her.]
I think all this is very strange.

ACT FOURTH
.

[HIALMAR EKDAL’S studio. A photograph has just been taken; a camera with the cloth over it, a pedestal, two chairs, a folding table, etc., are standing out in the room. Afternoon light; the sun is going down; a little later it begins to grow dusk.]

[GINA stands in the passage doorway, with a little box and a wet glass plate in her hand, and is speaking to somebody outside.]

GINA.
Yes, certainly. When I make a promise I keep it. The first dozen shall be ready on Monday. Good afternoon.
[Someone is heard going downstairs. GINA shuts the door, slips the plate into the box, and puts it into the covered camera.]

HEDVIG
[comes in from the kitchen.]
Are they gone?

GINA
[tidying up.]
Yes, thank goodness, I’ve got rid of them at last.

HEDVIG.
But can you imagine why father hasn’t come home yet?

GINA.
Are you sure he’s not down in Relling’s room?

HEDVIG.
No, he’s not; I ran down the kitchen stair just now and asked.

GINA.
And his dinner standing and getting cold, too.

HEDVIG.
Yes, I can’t understand it. Father’s always so careful to be home to dinner!

GINA.
Oh, he’ll be here directly, you’ll see.

HEDVIG.
I wish he would come; everything seems so queer to-day.

GINA
[calls out.]
Here he is!
[HIALMAR EKDAL comes in at the passage door.]

HEDVIG
[going to him.]
Father! Oh, what a time we’ve been waiting for you!

GINA
[glancing sidelong at him.]
You’ve been out a long time, Ekdal.

HIALMAR
[without looking at her.]
Rather long, yes.
[He takes off his overcoat; GINA and HEDVIG go to help him; he motions them away.]

GINA.
Perhaps you’ve had dinner with Werle?

HIALMAR
[hanging up his coat.]
No.

GINA
[going towards the kitchen door.]
Then I’ll bring some in for you.

HIALMAR.
No; let the dinner alone. I want nothing to eat.

HEDVIG
[going nearer to him.]
Are you not well, father?

HIALMAR.
Well? Oh, yes, well enough. We have had a tiring walk, Gregers and I.

GINA.
You didn’t ought to have gone so far, Ekdal; you’re not used to it.

HIALMAR.
H’m; there’s many a thing a man must get used to in this world.
[Wanders about the room.]
Has any one been here whilst I was out?

GINA.
Nobody but the two sweethearts.

HIALMAR.
No new orders?

GINA.
No, not to-day.

HEDVIG.
There will be some to-morrow, father, you’ll see.

HIALMAR.
I hope there will; for to-morrow I am going to set to work in real earnest.

HEDVIG.
To-morrow! Don’t you remember what day it is to-morrow?

HIALMAR.
Oh, yes, by-the-bye — . Well, the day after, then. Henceforth I mean to do everything myself; I shall take all the work into my own hands.

GINA.
Why, what can be the good of that, Ekdal? It’ll only make your life a burden to you. I can manage the photography all right; and you can go on working at your invention.

HEDVIG.
And think of the wild duck, father, — and all the hens and rabbits and — !

HIALMAR.
Don’t talk to me of all that trash! From to-morrow I will never set foot in the garret again.

HEDVIG.
Oh, but father, you promised that we should have a little party —

HIALMAR.
H’m, true. Well, then, from the day after to-morrow. I should almost like to wring that cursed wild duck’s neck!

HEDVIG
[shrieks.]
The wild duck!

GINA.
Well I never!

HEDVIG
[shaking him.]
Oh, no, father; you know it’s my wild duck!

HIALMAR.
That is why I don’t do it. I haven’t the heart to — for your sake, Hedvig. But in my inmost soul I feel that I ought to do it. I ought not to tolerate under my roof a creature that has been through those hands.

GINA.
Why, good gracious, even if grandfather did get it from that poor creature, Pettersen —

HIALMAR
[wandering about.]
There are certain claims — what shall I call them? — let me say claims of the ideal — certain obligations, which a man cannot disregard without injury to his soul.

HEDVIG
[going after him.]
But think of the wild duck, — the poor wild duck!

HIALMAR
[stops.]
I tell you I will spare it — for your sake. Not a hair of its head shall be — I mean, it shall be spared. There are greater problems than that to be dealt with. But you should go out a little now, Hedvig, as usual; it is getting dusk enough for you now.

HEDVIG.
No, I don’t care about going out now.

HIALMAR.
Yes, do; it seems to me your eyes are blinking a great deal; all these vapours in here are bad for you. The air is heavy under this roof.

HEDVIG.
Very well, then, I’ll run down the kitchen stair and go for a little walk. My cloak and hat? — oh, they’re in my own room. Father — be sure you don’t do the wild duck any harm whilst I’m out.

HIALMAR.
Not a feather of its head shall be touched.
[Draws her to him.]
You and I, Hedvig — we two — ! Well, go along.
[HEDVIG nods to her parents and goes out through the kitchen.]

HIALMAR
[walks about without looking up.]
Gina.

GINA.
Yes?

HIALMAR.
From to-morrow — or, say, from the day after to-morrow — I should like to keep the household account-book myself.

GINA.
Do you want to keep the accounts too, now?

HIALMAR.
Yes; or to check the receipts at any rate.

GINA.
Lord help us! that’s soon done.

HIALMAR.
One would hardly think so; at any rate you seem to make the money go a very long way.
[Stops and looks at her.]
How do you manage it?

GINA.
It’s because me and Hedvig, we need so little.

HIALMAR.
Is it the case that father is very liberally paid for the copying he does for Mr. Werle?

GINA.
I don’t know as he gets anything out of the way. I don’t know the rates for that sort of work.

HIALMAR.
Well, what does he get, about? Let me hear!

GINA.
Oh, it varies; I daresay it’ll come to about as much as he costs us, with a little pocket-money over.

HIALMAR.
As much as he costs us! And you have never told me this before!

GINA.
No, how could I tell you? It pleased you so much to think he got everything from you.

HIALMAR.
And he gets it from Mr. Werle.

GINA.
Oh, well, he has plenty and to spare, he has.

HIALMAR.
Light the lamp for me, please!

GINA
[lighting the lamp.]
And, of course, we don’t know as it’s Mr. Werle himself; it may be Graberg —

HIALMAR.
Why attempt such an evasion?

GINA.
I don’t know; I only thought —

HIALMAR.
H’m!

GINA.
It wasn’t me that got grandfather that copying. It was Bertha, when she used to come about us.

HIALMAR.
It seems to me your voice is trembling.

GINA
[putting the lamp-shade on.]
Is it?

HIALMAR.
And your hands are shaking, are they not?

GINA
[firmly.]
Come right out with it, Ekdal. What has he been saying about me?

HIALMAR.
Is it true — can it be true that — that there was an — an understanding between you and Mr. Werle, while you were in service there?

GINA.
That’s not true. Not at that time. Mr. Werle did come after me, that’s a fact. And his wife thought there was something in it, and then she made such a hocus-pocus and hurly-burly, and she hustled me and bustled me about so that I left her service.

HIALMAR.
But afterwards, then?

GINA.
Well, then I went home. And mother — well, she wasn’t the woman you took her for, Ekdal; she kept on worrying and worrying at me about one thing and another — for Mr. Werle was a widower by that time.

HIALMAR.
Well, and then?

GINA.
I suppose you’ve got to know it. He gave me no peace until he’d had his way.

HIALMAR
[striking his hands together.]
And this is the mother of my child! How could you hide this from me?

GINA.
Yes, it was wrong of me; I ought certainly to have told you long ago.

HIALMAR.
You should have told me at the very first; — then I should have known the sort of woman you were.

GINA.
But would you have married me all the same?

HIALMAR.
How can you dream that I would?

GINA.
That’s just why I didn’t dare tell you anything, then. For I’d come to care for you so much, you see; and I couldn’t go and make myself utterly miserable —

HIALMAR
[walks about.]
And this is my Hedvig’s mother. And to know that all I see before me —
[kicks at a chair]
— all that I call my home — I owe to a favoured predecessor! Oh, that scoundrel Werle!

GINA.
Do you repent of the fourteen — the fifteen years we’ve lived together?

HIALMAR
[placing himself in front of her.]
Have you not every day, every hour, repented of the spider’s-web of deceit you have spun around me? Answer me that! How could you help writhing with penitence and remorse?

GINA.
Oh, my dear Ekdal, I’ve had all I could do to look after the house and get through the day’s work —

HIALMAR.
Then you never think of reviewing your past?

GINA.
No; Heaven knows I’d almost forgotten those old stories.

HIALMAR.
Oh, this dull, callous contentment! To me there is something revolting about it. Think of it — never so much as a twinge of remorse!

GINA.
But tell me, Ekdal — what would have become of you if you hadn’t had a wife like me?

HIALMAR.
Like you — !

GINA.
Yes; for you know I’ve always been a bit more practical and wide-awake than you. Of course I’m a year or two older.

HIALMAR.
What would have become of me!

GINA.
You’d got into all sorts of bad ways when first you met me; that you can’t deny.

HIALMAR.
“Bad ways” do you call them? Little do you know what a man goes through when he is in grief and despair — especially a man of my fiery temperament.

GINA.
Well, well, that may be so. And I’ve no reason to crow over you, neither; for you turned a moral of a husband, that you did, as soon as ever you had a house and home of your own. — And now we’d got everything so nice and cosy about us; and me and Hedvig was just thinking we’d soon be able to let ourselves go a bit, in the way of both food and clothes.

HIALMAR.
In the swamp of deceit, yes.

GINA.
I wish to goodness that detestable thing had never set his foot inside our doors!

HIALMAR.
And I, too, thought my home such a pleasant one. That was a delusion. Where shall I now find the elasticity of spirit to bring my invention into the world of reality? Perhaps it will die with me; and then it will be your past, Gina, that will have killed it.