Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (237 page)

GINA
[nearly crying.]
You mustn’t say such things, Ekdal. Me, that has only wanted to do the best I could for you, all my days!

HIALMAR.
I ask you, what becomes of the breadwinner’s dream? When I used to lie in there on the sofa and brood over my invention, I had a clear enough presentiment that it would sap my vitality to the last drop. I felt even then that the day when I held the patent in my hand — that day — would bring my — release. And then it was my dream that you should live on after me, the dead inventor’s well-to-do widow.

GINA
[drying her tears.]
No, you mustn’t talk like that, Ekdal. May the Lord never let me see the day I am left a widow!

HIALMAR.
Oh, the whole dream has vanished. It is all over now. All over!
[GREGERS WERLE opens the passage door cautiously and looks in.]

GREGERS.
May I come in?

HIALMAR.
Yes, come in.

GREGERS
[comes forward, his face beaming with satisfaction, and holds out both his hands to them.]
Well, dear friends — !
[Looks from one to the other, and whispers to HIALMAR.]
Have you not done it yet?

HIALMAR
[aloud.]
It is done.

GREGERS.
It is?

HIALMAR.
I have passed through the bitterest moments of my life.

GREGERS.
But also, I trust, the most ennobling.

HIALMAR.
Well, at any rate, we have got through it for the present.

GINA.
God forgive you, Mr. Werle.

GREGERS
[in great surprise.]
But I don’t understand this.

HIALMAR.
What don’t you understand?

GREGERS.
After so great a crisis — a crisis that is to be the starting-point of an entirely new life — of a communion founded on truth, and free from all taint of deception —

HIALMAR.
Yes, yes, I know; I know that quite well.

GREGERS.
I confidently expected, when I entered the room, to find the light of transfiguration shining upon me from both husband and wife. And now I see nothing but dulness, oppression, gloom —

GINA.
Oh, is that it?
[Takes off the lamp-shade.]

GREGERS.
You will not understand me, Mrs. Ekdal. Ah, well, you, I suppose, need time to — . But you, Hialmar? Surely you feel a new consecration after the great crisis.

HIALMAR.
Yes, of course I do. That is — in a sort of way.

GREGERS.
For surely nothing in the world can compare with the joy of forgiving one who has erred, and raising her up to oneself in love.

HIALMAR.
Do you think a man can so easily throw off the bitter cup I have drained?

GREGERS.
No, not a common man, perhaps. But a man like you — !

HIALMAR.
Good God! I know that well enough. But you must keep me up to it, Gregers. It takes time, you know.

GREGERS.
You have much of the wild duck in you, Hialmar.
[RELLING has come in at the passage door.]

RELLING.
Oho! is the wild duck to the fore again?

HIALMAR.
Yes; Mr. Werle’s wing-broken victim.

RELLING.
Mr. Werle’s — ? So it’s him you are talking about?

HIALMAR.
Him and — ourselves.

RELLING
[in an undertone to GREGERS.]
May the devil fly away with you!

HIALMAR.
What is that you are saying?

RELLING.
Only uttering a heartfelt wish that this quacksalver would take himself off. If he stays here, he is quite equal to making an utter mess of life, for both of you.

GREGERS.
These two will not make a mess of life, Mr. Relling. Of course I won’t speak of Hialmar — him we know. But she, too, in her innermost heart, has certainly something loyal and sincere —

GINA
[almost crying.]
You might have let me alone for what I was, then.

RELLING
[to GREGERS.]
Is it rude to ask what you really want in this house?

GREGERS.
To lay the foundations of a true marriage.

RELLING.
So you don’t think Ekdal’s marriage is good enough as it is?

GREGERS.
No doubt it is as good a marriage as most others, worse luck. But a true marriage it has yet to become.

HIALMAR.
You have never had eyes for the claims of the ideal, Relling.

RELLING.
Rubbish, my boy! — but excuse me, Mr. Werle: how many — in round numbers — how many true marriages have you seen in the course of your life?

GREGERS.
Scarcely a single one.

RELLING.
Nor I either.

GREGERS.
But I have seen innumerable marriages of the opposite kind. And it has been my fate to see at close quarters what ruin such a marriage can work in two human souls.

HIALMAR.
A man’s whole moral basis may give away beneath his feet; that is the terrible part of it.

RELLING.
Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been exactly married, so I don’t pretend to speak with authority. But this I know, that the child enters into the marriage problem. And you must leave the child in peace.

HIALMAR.
Oh — Hedvig! my poor Hedvig!

RELLING.
Yes, you must be good enough to keep Hedvig outside of all this. You two are grown-up people; you are free, in God’s name, to make what mess and muddle you please of your life. But you must deal cautiously with Hedvig, I tell you; else you may do her a great injury.

HIALMAR.
An injury!

RELLING.
Yes, or she may do herself an injury — and perhaps others, too.

GINA.
How can you know that, Relling?

HIALMAR.
Her sight is in no immediate danger, is it?

RELLING.
I am not talking about her sight. Hedvig is at a critical age. She may be getting all sorts of mischief into her head.

GINA.
That’s true — I’ve noticed it already! She’s taken to carrying on with the fire, out in the kitchen. She calls it playing at house-on-fire. I’m often scared for fear she really sets fire to the house.

RELLING.
You see; I thought as much.

GREGERS
[to RELLING.]
But how do you account for that?

RELLING
[sullenly.]
Her constitution’s changing, sir.

HIALMAR.
So long as the child has me — ! So long as I am above ground — !
[A knock at the door.]

GINA.
Hush, Ekdal; there’s some one in the passage.
[Calls out.]
Come in!
[MRS. SORBY, in walking dress, comes in.]

MRS. SORBY.
Good evening.

GINA
[going towards her.]
Is it really you, Bertha?

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, of course it is. But I’m disturbing you, I’m afraid?

HIALMAR.
No, not at all; an emissary from that house —

MRS. SORBY
[to GINA.]
To tell the truth, I hoped your men-folk would be out at this time. I just ran up to have a little chat with you, and to say good-bye.

GINA.
Good-bye? Are you going away, then?

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, to-morrow morning, — up to Hoidal. Mr. Werle started this afternoon.
[Lightly to GREGERS.]
He asked me to say good-bye for him.

GINA.
Only fancy — !

HIALMAR.
So Mr. Werle has gone? And now you are going after him?

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal?

HIALMAR.
I say: beware!

GREGERS.
I must explain the situation. My father and Mrs. Sorby are going to be married.

HIALMAR.
Going to be married!

GINA.
Oh, Bertha! So it’s come to that at last!

RELLING
[his voice quivering a little.]
This is surely not true?

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, my dear Relling, it’s true enough.

RELLING.
You are going to marry again?

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, it looks like it. Werle has got a special licence, and we are going to be married quite quietly, up at the works.

GREGERS.
Then I must wish you all happiness, like a dutiful stepson.

MRS. SORBY.
Thank you very much — if you mean what you say. I certainly hope it will lead to happiness, both for Werle and for me.

RELLING.
You have every reason to hope that. Mr. Werle never gets drunk — so far as I know; and I don’t suppose he’s in the habit of thrashing his wives, like the late lamented horse-doctor.

MRS. SORBY.
Come now, let Sorby rest in peace. He had his good points, too.

RELLING.
Mr. Werle has better ones, I have no doubt.

MRS. SORBY.
He hasn’t frittered away all that was good in him, at any rate. The man who does that must take the consequences.

RELLING.
I shall go out with Molvik this evening.

MRS. SORBY.
You mustn’t do that, Relling. Don’t do it — for my sake.

RELLING.
There’s nothing else for it.
[To HIALMAR.]
If you’re going with us, come along.

GINA.
No, thank you. Ekdal doesn’t go in for that sort of dissertation.

HIALMAR
[half aloud, in vexation.]
Oh, do hold your tongue!

RELLING.
Good-bye, Mrs. — Werle.
[Goes out through the passage door.]

GREGERS
[to MRS. SORBY.]
You seem to know Dr. Relling pretty intimately.

MRS. SORBY.
Yes, we have known each other for many years. At one time it seemed as if things might have gone further between us.

GREGERS.
It was surely lucky for you that they did not.

MRS. SORBY.
You may well say that. But I have always been wary of acting on impulse. A woman can’t afford absolutely to throw herself away.

GREGERS.
Are you not in the least afraid that I may let my father know about this old friendship?

MRS. SORBY.
Why, of course, I have told him all about it myself.

GREGERS.
Indeed?

MRS. SORBY.
Your father knows every single thing that can, with any truth, be said about me. I have told him all; it was the first thing I did when I saw what was in his mind.

GREGERS.
Then you have been franker than most people, I think.

MRS. SORBY.
I have always been frank. We women find that the best policy.

HIALMAR.
What do you say to that, Gina?

GINA.
Oh, we’re not all alike, us women aren’t. Some are made one way, some another.

MRS. SORBY.
Well, for my part, Gina, I believe it’s wisest to do as I’ve done. And Werle has no secrets either, on his side. That’s really the great bond between us, you see. Now he can talk to me as openly as a child. He has never had the chance to do that before. Fancy a man like him, full of health and vigour, passing his whole youth and the best years of his life in listening to nothing but penitential sermons! And very often the sermons had for their text the most imaginary offences — at least so I understand.

GINA.
That’s true enough.

GREGERS.
If you ladies are going to follow up this topic, I had better withdraw.

MRS. SORBY.
You can stay as far as that’s concerned. I shan’t say a word more. But I wanted you to know that I had done nothing secretly or in an underhand way. I may seem to have come in for a great piece of luck; and so I have, in a sense. But after all, I don’t think I am getting any more than I am giving. I shall stand by him always, and I can tend and care for him as no one else can, now that he is getting helpless.