 Act 3 of Hedagabla by Henrik Ibsen, translated by Edmund Gossi and William Archer. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act 3 The room at the Testments. The curtains are drawn over the middle doorway and also over the glass door. The lamp, half turned down and with a shade over it, is burning on the table. In the stove, the door of which stands open, there has been a fire, which is now nearly burnt out. Mrs. Elfstead, wrapped in a large shawl and with her feet upon a footdressed, sits close to the stove, sunk back in the armchair. Hedag, fully dressed, lies sleeping upon the sofa with a sofa blanket over her. Mrs. Elfstead After a pause, suddenly sits up in her chair and listens eagerly. Then she sings back again warily, moaning to herself. Not yet. Oh God. Oh God, not yet. Bertha slips cautiously in by the hall door. She has a letter in her hand. Mrs. Elfstead turns and whispers eagerly. Well, has anyone come? Bertha, softly. Yes, a girl had just brought this letter. Mrs. Elfstead, quickly holding out her hand. A letter, give it to me. No, it's for Dr. Tasman, ma'am. Oh, indeed. It was Miss Tasman's servant that brought it. I'll lay it here on the table. Yes, do. Bertha, laying down the letter. I think I had better put out the lamp. It's smoking. Yes, put it out. It must soon be daylight now. Bertha, putting out the lamp. It is daylight already, ma'am. Yes, broad day, and no one come back yet. Lord bless you, ma'am. I guessed how it would be. You guessed? Yes, when I saw that a certain person had come back to town, and that he went off with them, for we've heard enough about that gentleman before now. Don't speak so loud, you awaken Mrs. Tasman. Bertha looks towards the sofa in size. No, no. Let her sleep, poor thing. Shouldn't I put some wood on the fire? Thanks. Not for me. Oh, very well. She goes softly out by the whole door. Heda is awakened by the shutting of the door and looks up. What's that? It was only the servant. Heda, looking about her. Oh, we're here. Yes, now I remember. Sits erect upon the sofa, stretches herself, and drops her eyes. Oh, what a clock is it, Taya. Mrs. Elfstead looks at her watch. It's past seven. When did Tasman come home? He has not come. Not come home yet? Mrs. Elfstead rising. No one has come. Think of our watching and waiting here till four in the morning. Mrs. Elfstead wringing her hands. And how I watched and waited for him. Heda yawns and says with her hand before her mouth. Oh, well, well. We might have spared ourselves the trouble. Did you get a little sleep? Oh, yes, I believe I have slept pretty well. Have you not? Not for a moment. I couldn't, Heda, not to save my life. Heda rises and goes towards her. There, there, there. There's nothing to be so alarmed about. I understand quite well what has happened. Well, what do you think? Won't you tell me? Why, of course it has been a very late affair at Judge Brax. Yes, yes, that is clear enough. But all the same. And then you see Tessman hasn't cared to come home and bring us up in the middle of the night. Laughing. Perhaps he wasn't inclined to show himself either, immediately after a jollification. But in that case, where can he have gone? Of course he has gone to his aunt's and slept there. They have his old room ready for him. No, he can't be with them, for letters just come for him from Miss Tessman. There it lies. Indeed. Looks at the address. Why, yes, it's addressed in Aunt Julia's hand. Well, then, he has remained at Judge Brax. And as for Eilert Loveborg, he is sitting with vine leaves in his hair, reading his manuscript. Oh, Header, you are just saying things. You don't believe a bit. You really are a little blockhead, Taya. Oh, yes, I suppose I am. And how mortally tired you look. Yes, I am mortally tired. Well, then, you must do as I tell you. You must go into my room and lie down for a little while. Oh, no, no, I shouldn't be able to sleep. I am sure you would. Well, but your husband is certain to come soon now. And then I want to know at once. I shall take care to let you know when he comes. Do you promise me, Header? Yes, rely upon me. Just you go in and have a sleep in the meantime. Thanks. Then I'll try. She goes off to the inner room. Header goes up to the glass door and draws back the curtains. The broad daylight streams into the room. Then she takes a little hand-glass from the writing table, looks at herself in it, and arranges her hair. Next she goes to the whole door and presses the bell button. Bertha presently appears at the whole door. Did you want anything, ma'am? Yes, you must put some more wood in the stove. I am shivering. Bless me, I'll make up the fire at once. She rakes the embers together and lays a piece of wood upon them, then stops and listens. That was a ring at the front door, ma'am. Then go to the door. I will look after the fire. It will soon burn up. She goes out by the whole door. Header kneels on the footrest and lays some more pieces of wood in the stove. After a short pause, George Tessman enters from the hall. He steals on tiptoe towards the middle doorway and is about to slip through the curtains. Header at the stove without looking up. Good morning. Tessman turns. Header! Approaching her. Good heavens! Are you up so early? Yes, I am up very early this morning. And I never doubted you were still sound asleep. Fancy that, Header. Don't speak so loud. Mrs. Elfstead is resting in my room. Has Mrs. Elfstead been here all night? Yes, since no one came to fetch her. Ah, to be sure. Header closes the door of the stove and rises. Well, did you enjoy yourselves at Judge Brax? Have you been anxious about me, eh? No, I should never think of being anxious, but I asked if you had enjoyed yourself. Oh, yes. For once, in a way. Especially the beginning of the evening. For then, Eilert read me part of his book. We arrived more than an hour too early, fancy that. And Brax had all sorts of arrangements to make, so Eilert read to me. Header, seating herself by the table on the right. Well, tell me then. Tessman, sitting on a footstool near the stove. Oh, Header, you can't conceive what a book that is going to be. I believe it is one of the most remarkable things that have ever been written. Fancy that. Yes, yes. I don't care about that. I must make a confession to you, Header, when he had finished reading. A horrid feeling came over me. A horrid feeling? I felt jealous of Eilert for having had it in him to write such a book. Only think, Header. Yes. Yes, I am thinking. And then how pitiful to think that he, with all these gifts, should be irreclaimable after all. I suppose you mean that he has more courage than the rest. No, not at all. I mean that he is incapable of taking his pleasure in moderation. And what came of it all, in the end? Well, to tell the truth, I think it might best be described as an orgy, Header. Had he vine leaves in his hair? Vine leaves? No. I saw nothing of the sort. But he made a long, rambling speech in honor of the woman who had inspired him in his work. That was the phrase he used. Did he name her? No, he didn't. But I can't help thinking that he meant Mrs. Elbstead. You may be sure he did. Well, where did you part from him? On the way to town, we broke up, the last of us at any rate, altogether, and Brack came with us to get a breath of fresh air. And then, you see, we agreed to take Eilert home, for he had had far more than was good for him. I dare say. But now comes the strange part of it, Header. Or I should rather say the melancholy part of it. I declare I am most ashamed on Eilert's account to tell you. Oh, go on. Well, as we were getting near town, you see, I happened to drop a little behind the others, only for a minute or two. Fancy that. Yes, yes, yes, but... And then, as I hurried after them, what do you think I found by the wayside, eh? Oh, how should I know? You mustn't speak of it to a soul, Header, do you hear? Promise me for Eilert's sake. Draws a parcel wrapped in paper from his coat pocket. Fancy, dear. I found this. Is not that the parcel he had with him yesterday? Yes, it is the whole of his precious, irreplaceable manuscript. And he had gone and lost it and knew nothing about it. Only fancy, Header. So deplorably. But why did you not give him back the parcel at once? I didn't dare to. In the state he was then in. Did you not tell any of the others that you had found it? Oh, far from it. You can surely understand that. For Eilert's sake, I wouldn't do that. So no one knows that Eilert Loveborg's manuscript is in your possession? No. And no one must know it. Then what did you say to him afterwards? I didn't talk to him again at all. For when we got in among the streets, he and two or three of the others gave us the slip and disappeared. Fancy that. Indeed. They must have taken him home then. Yes, so it would appear. And Brack, too, left us. And what have you been doing with yourself since? Well, I and some of the others went home with one of the party and jolly fellow and took our morning coffee with him. Or perhaps I should rather call it our night coffee. But now, when I have rested a little and given Eilert poor fellow time to have his sleep out, I must take this back to him. Heda holds out her hand for the packet. No, don't give it to him. Not in such a hurry, I mean. Let me read it first. No, my dearest Heda, I mustn't. I really mustn't. You must not? No, for you can imagine what a state of despair he will be in when he awakens and misses the manuscript. He has no copy of it. You must know. He told me so. Heda, looking searchingly at him. Can such a thing not be reproduced? Written over again. No, I don't think that would be possible. For the inspiration, you see. Yes, yes, I suppose it depends on that. Lightly. But by the by, here is a letter for you. Fancy. Heda, handing it to him. It came early this morning. It's from Aunt Julia. What can it be? He lays the packet on the other footstool, opens the letter, runs his eye through it, and jumps up. Oh, Heda, she says that poor Aunt Rena is dying. Well, we were prepared for that. And that if I want to see her again, I must make haste. I'll run into them at once. Heda, suppressing a smile. Will you run? Oh, my dearest Heda. If you could only make your mind up to come with me, just think. Heda, rises and says wearily, repelling the idea. No, no, don't ask me. I will not look upon sickness and death. I loathe all sorts of ugliness. Well, well then. Bustling around. My hat? My overcoat? Oh, in the hall. I do hope I may not come too late, Heda. Eh? Oh, if you run. Better appears at the whole door. Judge Brack is at the door, and wishes to know if he may come in. At this time? No, I can't possibly see him. But I can. To Bertha. Ask Judge Brack to come in. Bertha goes out. Heda, quickly, whispering. The parcel, Tessman. She snatches it up from the stool. Yes, give it to me. No, no, I will keep it till you come back. She goes to the writing table and places it in the bookcase. Tessman stands in a flurry of haste and cannot get his gloves on. Judge Brack enters from the hall. Heda nodding to him. You are an early bird, I must say. Yes, don't you think so? To Tessman. Are you on the move too? Yes, I must rush off to my hands. Fancy. The invalid one is lying at death's door, poor creature. Dear me, is she indeed? Then on no account let me detain you. At such a critical moment. Yes, I must really rush. Goodbye. Goodbye. He hastens out by the hall door. Heda approaching. You seem to have made a particularly lively night of it at your room, Judge Brack. I assure you I have not had my clothes off, Mrs. Heda. Not you either. No, as you may see. But, what has Tessman been telling you of the night's adventures? Oh, some tiresome story. Only that they went and had coffee somewhere or other. I had heard about that coffee party already. I learned Loveborg was not with them, my fancy. No, they had taken him home before that. Tessman too? No, but some of the others, he said. Brack, smiling. George Tessman is really an ingenuous creature, Mrs. Heda. Yes, heaven knows he is. Then is there something behind all this? Yes, perhaps there may be. Well then, sit down, my dear Judge, and tell your story in comfort. She seats herself to the left of the table. Brack sits near her at the long side of the table. Now then. I had special reasons for keeping track of my guests last night. Of Eilert Loveborg among the rest, perhaps? Frankly, yes. Now you make me really curious. Do you know where he and one or two of the others finished the night, Mrs. Heda? If it is not quite unmentionable, tell me. Oh no, it's not at all unmentionable. Well, they put in an appearance at a particularly animated soiree. Of the lively kind? Of the very liveliest. Tell me more of this, Judge Brack. Loveborg, as well as the others, had been invited in advance. I knew all about it. But he had declined the invitation, for now, as you know, he has become a new man. Up at the Elvesteds, yes, but he went after all then. Well, you see, Mrs. Heda, unhappily the spirit moved him at my room last evening. Yes, I hear he found inspiration. Pretty violent inspiration. Well, I fancy that altered his purpose, for we menfolk are, unfortunately, not always so firm in our principles as we ought to be. Oh, I am sure you are an exception, Judge Brack, but as to Loveborg? To make a long story short, he landed at last in Mademoiselle Diana's rooms. Mademoiselle Diana's? It was Mademoiselle Diana that was giving the soiree to a select circle of her admirers and her lady friends. Is she a red-haired woman? Precisely. A sort of a singer? Oh, yes, in her leisure moments. And moreover, a mighty huntress of men, Mrs. Heda. You have no doubt heard of her. Eilert Loveborg was one of her most enthusiastic protectors in the days of his glory. And how did all this end? Far from amicably it appears. After a most tender meeting, they seem to have come to blows. Loveborg and she? Yes. He accused her, or her friends, of having robbed him. He declared that his pocketbook had disappeared, and other things as well. In short, he seems to have made a furious disturbance. And what came of it all? It came to a general scrimmage in which the ladies, as well as the gentlemen, took part. Fortunately, the police at last appeared on the scene. The police, too? Yes. I fancy it will prove a costly frolic for Eilert Loveborg, crazy being that he is. How so? He seems to have made a violent resistance, to have hit one of the constables on the head, and torn the coat off his back, so they had to march him off to the police station with the rest. How have you learnt all this? From the police themselves. Heda, gazing straight before her. So that is what happened. Then he had no vine leaves in his hair. Vine leaves, Mrs. Heda? Heda, changing her tone. But tell me now, Judge, what is your real reason for tracking out Eilert Loveborg's movements so carefully? In the first place, it could not be entirely indifferent to me if it should appear in the police court that he came straight from my house. Will the matter come into court, then? Of course. However, I should scarcely have troubled so much about that. But I thought that, as a friend of the family, it was my duty to supply you and Tessamon with a full account of his nocturnal exploits. Why so, Judge Brack? Why? Because I have a shrewd suspicion that he intends to use you as a sort of blind. Oh, how can you think such a thing? Good heavens, Mrs. Heda. We have eyes in our head. Mark my words. This Mrs. Elvstead will be in no hurry to leave town again. Well, even if there should be anything between them, I suppose there are plenty of other places where they could meet. Not a single home. Henceforth, as before, every respectable house will be closed against Eilert Loveborg. And so ought mine to be, you mean. Yes. I confess it would be more than painful to me if this personage were to be made free of your house. How superfluous! How intrusive he would be if he were to force his way into... Into the triangle? Precisely. It would simply mean that I should find myself homeless. Heda looks at him with a smile. So, you want to be the one cock in the basket. That is your aim. Brack, not slowly and low as his voice. Yes. That is my aim. And for that, I will fight with every weapon I can command. Heda, her smile vanishing. I see you are a dangerous person when it comes to the point. Do you think so? I am beginning to think so. And I am exceedingly glad to think that you have no sort of hold over me. Brack, laughing equivocally. Well, well, Mrs. Heda, perhaps you are right there. If I had, who knows what I might be capable of? Come, come now, Judge Brack. That sounds almost like a threat. Brack, rising. Oh, not at all. The triangle, you know. Aught, if possible, to be spontaneously constructed. There, I agree with you. Well, now I have said all I had to say and I'd better be getting back to town. Goodbye, Mrs. Heda. He goes towards the glass door. Heda, rising. Are you going through the garden? Yes. It is a shortcut for me. And then it is a back way, too. Quite so. I have no objection to back ways. They may be frequent enough at times. When there is ball practice going on, you mean? Brack, in the doorway, laughing to her. Oh, people don't shoot their tame poultry, I fancy. Heda, also laughing. Oh no, when there is only one cock in the basket. They exchange laughing knots of farewell. He goes. She closes the door behind him. Heda, who has become quite serious, stands for a moment looking out. Presently she goes and peeps through the curtain over the middle doorway. Then she goes to the writing table, takes Loveborg's packet out of the bookcase and is on the point of looking through its contents. Berta is heard speaking loudly in the hall. Heda turns and listens. Then she hastily locks up the packet in the drawer and lays the key on the ink stand. I let Loveborg, with his great coat on and his hat in his hand, tears open the whole door. He looks somewhat confused and irritated. Loveborg, looking towards the hall. I tell you, I must and will come in. There! He closes the door, turns, sees Heda, at once regains his self-control and bows. Heda, at the writing table. Well, Mr. Loveborg, this is a rather late hour to call for Taya. You mean rather an early hour to call on you. Pray pardon me. How do you know that she is still here? They told me at her lodgings that she had been out all night. Heda, going to the oval table. Did you notice anything about the people of the house when they said that? Loveborg looks inquiringly at her. Notice anything about them? I mean, did they seem to think it odd? Loveborg suddenly understanding. Oh, yes, of course. I am dragging her down with me. However, I didn't notice anything. I suppose Tessman is not up yet. No, I think not. When did he come home? Very late. Did he tell you anything? Yes, I gathered that you had had an exceedingly jolly evening at Judge Brax. Nothing more? I don't think so. However, I was so dreadfully sleepy. Mrs. Elfstead enters through the curtains of the middle doorway. Mrs. Elfstead going towards him. Ah, Loveborg, at last! Yes, at last. And too late. Mrs. Elfstead looks anxiously at him. What is too late? Everything is too late now. It is all over with me. Oh, no, no, don't say that. You will say the same when you hear. I won't hear anything. Perhaps you would prefer to talk to her alone, if so I will leave you. No, stay. You too. I beg you to stay. Yes, but I won't hear anything I tell you. It is not last night's adventures that I want to talk about. What is it then? I want to say that now our ways must part. Part? Hedda, involuntarily. I knew it. You can be of no more service to me, Teah. How can you stand there and say that? No more service to you. Am I not to help you now as before? Are we not to go on working together? Henceforward I shall do no work. Mrs. Elfsted, despairingly. Then what am I to do with my life? You must try to live your life as if you had never known me. But you know I cannot do that. Try if you can, Orteah. You must go home again. Mrs. Elfsted, in vehement protest. Never in this world, where you are there will I be also. I will not let myself be driven away like this. I will remain here. I will be with you when the book appears. Hedda half-aloud in suspense. Ah, yes, the book. Loveborg looks at her. My book and Teah's, for that is what it is. Yes, I feel that it is. And that is why I have a right to be with you when it appears. I will see with my own eyes how respect and honour pour in upon you afresh. And the happiness, the happiness, oh, I must share it with you. Teah, our book will never appear. Ah, never appear. Can never appear. Mrs. Elfsted, in agonised foreboding. Loveborg, what have you done with the manuscript? Hedda looks anxiously at him. Yes, the manuscript? Where is it? The manuscript. Well then, I have torn the manuscript into a thousand pieces. Mrs. Elfsted, shrinks. Oh, no! No! Hedda, involuntarily. But that's not... Loveborg looks at her. Not true, you think. Hedda, collecting herself. Oh, well, of course, since you say so. But it sounded so improbable. It is true, all the same. Mrs. Elfsted, ringing her hands. Oh, God! Oh, God, Hedda! Torn his own work to pieces! I have torn my own life to pieces. So why should I not tear my life work, too? And you did this last night? Yes, I tell you. Torn it into a thousand pieces and scatter them on the fjord, far out. There there is cool seawater at any rate. Let them drift upon it. Drift with the current and the wind. And then, presently they will sink deeper and deeper as I shall tear. Do you know, Loveborg, that what you have done with the book I shall think of it to my dying day as though you had killed a little child? Yes, you are right. It is a sort of child murder. How could you, then? Did not the child belong to me, too? Hedda, almost inaudibly. Ah, the child. Mrs. Elfsted, breathing heavily. It is all over, then. Well... Well, now I will go, Hedda. But you are not going away from town. Oh, I don't know what I shall do. I see nothing but darkness before me. She goes out by the whole door. Hedda stands waiting for a moment. So you are not going to see her home, Mr. Loveborg? I, through the streets, would you have people see her walking with me? Of course I don't know what else may have happened last night. But is it so utterly irretrievable? It will not end with last night. I know that perfectly well. And the thing is that now I have no taste for that sort of life either. I won't begin it anew. She has broken my courage and my power of braving life out. Hedda, looking straight before her. So that pretty little fool has had her fingers in a man's destiny. Looks at him. But all the same how could you treat her so heartlessly? Oh, don't say that I was heartless. To go and destroy what has filled her whole soul for months and years. You do not call that heartless? To you I can tell the truth, Hedda. The truth? First promise me. Give me your word that what I now confide in you Tea shall never know. I give you my word? Good. Then let me tell you that what I said just now was untrue. About the manuscript? Yes. I have not torn it to pieces nor thrown it into the fjord. No. No, but where is it then? I have destroyed it nonetheless. Utterly destroyed it, Hedda. I don't understand. Tea said that what I had done seemed to her like a child-murder. Yes, so she said. But to kill his child, that is not the worst thing a father can do to it. Not the worst. Suppose now, Hedda, that a man, in the small hours of the morning, came home to his child's mother after a night of riot and debauchery and said, Listen, I have been here and there and in this place and in that and I have taken our child with to this place and to that and I have lost the child. Utterly lost it. The devil knows into what hands it may have fallen. Who may have had their clutches on it? Well, but when all is said and done, you know this was only a book. Tea's pure soul was in that book. Yes, so I understand. And you can understand, too, that for her and me, together, no future is possible. What path do you mean to take then? None. I will only try to make an end of it all. The sooner the better. Header, a step nearer him. Eilert Loveborg, listen to me. Will you not try to do it beautifully? Beautifully? Smiling. With vine leaves in my hair as you used to dream in the old days? No, no, I have lost my faith in the vine leaves. But beautifully, nevertheless, for once in a way, goodbye, you must go now and do not come here anymore. Goodbye, Mrs. Tessman. And give George Tessman my love. He is on the point of going. No, wait. I must give you a memento to take with you. She goes to the writing table and opens the drawer and the pistol case, then returns to Loveborg with one of the pistols. Loveborg looks at her. This? Is this the memento? Header nodding slowly. Do you recognize it? It was aimed at you once. You should have used it then. Take it. And do you use it now? Loveborg puts the pistol in his breast pocket. Thanks. And beautifully, I learnt Loveborg. Promise me that. Goodbye, Header Gabler. He goes out by the whole door. Header listens for a moment at the door. Then she goes up to the writing table, takes out the packet of manuscript, peeps under the cover, draws a few of the sheets half out and looks at them. Next she goes over and seats herself in the armchair besides the stove with the packet in her lap. Presently she opens the stove door and then the packet. Header throws one of the choirs into the fire and whispers to herself. Now I am burning your child, Thea. Burning it, curly locks. Throwing one or two more choirs into the stove. Your child and I learnt Loveborgs. Throws the rest in. I am burning. I am burning your child. End of Act 3. Act 4 of Header Gabler by Henrik Ibsen. Translated by Edmund Gossie and William Archer. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act 4th. The same rooms at the Testments. It is evening. The drawing room is in darkness. The back room is light by the hanging lamp over the table. The curtains over the glass door are drawn close. Header, dressed in black, walks to and fro in the dark room. Then she goes into the back room and disappears for a moment to the left. She is hurt to strike a few chords on the piano. Presently she comes in sight again and returns to the drawing room. Bata enters from the right through the inner room with a lighted lamp which she places on the table in front of the corner settee in the drawing room. Her eyes are red with weeping and she has black ribbons in her cap. She goes quietly and circumspectly out to the right. Header goes up to the glass door, lifts the curtain a little aside and looks out into the darkness. Shortly afterwards, Miss Tessman, in mourning with a bonnet and veil on, comes in from the hall. Header goes towards her and holds out her hand. Yes, Header, here I am, in mourning and forlorn. For now my poor sister has at last found peace. I have heard the news already as you see. Tessman sent me a card. Yes, he promised me he would. But nevertheless I thought that to Header, here in the house of life, I ought myself to bring the tidings of death. That was very kind of you. Ah, Rina ought not to have left us just now. This is not the time for Header's house to be a house of mourning. Header, changing the subject. She died quite peacefully, did she not, Miss Tessman? Oh, her end was so calm, so beautiful. And then she had the unspeakable happiness of seeing George once more and bidding him good-bye. Has he not come home yet? No, he wrote that he might be detained. But won't you sit down? No, thank you, my dear, dear Header. I should like to, but I have so much to do. I must prepare my dear one for her rest as well as I can. She shall go to her grave looking her best. Can I not help you in any way? Oh, you must not think of it. Header Tessman must have no hand in such mournful work, nor let her thought dwell on it either, not at this time. One is not always mistress of one's thoughts. Miss Tessman, continuing. Ah, yes, it is the way of the world. At home we shall be sowing a shroud, and here there will soon be sowing two, I suppose. But of another sort, thank God. George Tessman enters by the hall door. Ah, you've come at last. You here, Aunt Julia, with Header. Fancy that. I was just going, my dear boy. Well, have you done all you promised? No, I'm really afraid I've forgotten half of it. I must come to you again tomorrow. Today my brain is all in a whirl. I can't keep my thoughts together. My dear George, you mustn't take it in this way. Mustn't? How do you mean? Even in your sorrow you must rejoice as I do. Rejoice that she is at rest. Oh, yes, yes, you're thinking of Aunt Marina. You will feel lonely now, Miss Tessman. Just at first, yes. But that will not last very long, I hope. I daresay I shall soon find an occupant for Reena's little room. Indeed. Who do you think will take it, eh? Oh, there's always some poor invalid or other in want of nursing, unfortunately. Would you really take such a burden upon you again? A burden? Heaven forgive you, child, it has been no burden to me. But suppose you had a total stranger on your hands? Oh, once soon makes friends with sick folk. And it's an absolute necessity for me to have someone to live for. Well, heaven be praised, there may soon be something in this house too to keep an old aunt busy. Oh, don't trouble about anything here. Yes, just fancy, what a nice time we three might have together, if... If? Tessman, uneasily. Oh, nothing. It will all come right. Let us hope so, eh? Well, well, I daresay you two want to talk to each other. Smiling. And perhaps Hedda may have something to tell you too, George. Goodbye. I must go home to Rena. Turning at the door. How strange it is to think that now Rena is with me and with my poor brother as well. Yes, fancy that, eh, Julia? Nay? Miss Tessman goes out by the whole door. Hedda follows Tessman coldly and searching thee with her eyes. I almost believe your Aunt Rena's death affects you more than it does your Aunt Julia. Oh, it's not that alone. It's Eilert I am so terribly uneasy about. Hedda, quickly. Is there anything new about him? I looked in at his rooms this afternoon, intending to tell him the manuscript was in safekeeping. Well, did you find him? No, he wasn't at home. But afterwards I met Mrs. Alvstead and she told me that he had been here early this morning. Yes, directly after you had gone. And he said he had torn his manuscript to pieces, eh? Yes, so he declared. Why, good heavens, he must have been completely out of his mind. And I suppose you thought it best not to give it back to him, Hedda. No, he did not get it. But, of course, you told him that we had it. No. Quickly. Did you tell Mrs. Alvstead? No, I thought I had better not. But you ought to have told him. Fancy, if in desperation he should go and do himself some injury. Let me have the manuscript, Hedda. I will take it to him at once. Where is it? Hedda, cold and immovable, leaning on the armchair. I have not got it. Have not got it? What in the world do you mean? I have burnt it. Every line of it. Tessman, with a violent movement of terror. Burnt? Burnt Eilert's manuscript. Don't scream so. The servant might hear you. Burnt! Why, good God! No. No, no, it's impossible. It is so, nevertheless. Do you know what you have done, Hedda? It's the unlawful appropriation of lost property. Fancy that! Just ask Judge Brack and he'll tell you what it is. I advise you not to speak of it. Either to Judge Brack or to anyone else. But how could you do anything so unheard of? What put it into your head? What possessed you? Answer me that, eh? Hedda, suppressing an almost imperceptible smile. I did it for your sake, George. For my sake? This morning when you told me about what he had read to you. Yes, yes, what then? You acknowledged that you envied him his work. Of course I didn't mean that, literally. No matter. I could not bear the idea that anyone should throw you into the shade. Tessamon, in an outburst of mingled doubt and joy. Hedda! Oh, is this true? But, but I never knew you'd show your love like that before. Fancy that! Well, I may as well tell you that, just at this time... Impatiently breaking off. No, no, you can ask Aunt Julia. She will tell you fast enough. Oh, I almost think I understand you, Hedda. Clasps his hands together. Good heavens! Do you really mean it, eh? Don't shout so. The servant might hear. Tessamon, laughing in irrepressible glee. The servant? Why how absurd you are, Hedda? It's only by old Bertha. Why, I'll tell Bertha myself. Hedda, clenching her hands together in desperation. Oh! It is killing me! It is killing me, all this! What is, Hedda? Eh? Hedda, coldly controlling herself. All this absurdity, George. Ha! Absurdity? Do you see anything absurd in my being overjoyed at the news? But, after all, perhaps I had better not say anything to Bertha. Oh, why not that too? No, no, not yet. But I must certainly tell Aunt Julia. And then that you forgot to call me George too fancy that. Oh, Aunt Julia will be so happy. So happy. When she hears that I have burned Eilert Loveborg's manuscript for your sake. No, by the by. The affair of the manuscript, of course, nobody must know about that. But that you love me so much, Hedda. Aunt Julia must really share my joy in that. I wonder now whether this sort of thing is usual in young wives, eh? I think you had better ask Aunt Julia that question too. I will indeed sometime or other. Looks uneasy and downcast again. And yet the manuscript, the manuscript. Good God! It's terrible to think what will become of poor Eilert now. Mrs. Elvsted, dressed as in the first act, with head and cloak, enters by the whole door. Mrs. Elvsted greets them hurriedly and says in evident agitation. Oh dear Hedda, forgive my coming again. What is the matter with you, Thea? Something about Eilert Loveborg again, eh? Yes, I am dreadfully afraid some misfortune has happened to him. Hedda, seized her arm. Ah, do you think so? Why, good Lord! What makes you think that, Mrs. Elvsted? I heard them talking of him at my boarding-house, just as I came in. All the most incredible rumours are afloat about him today. Yes, fancy, so I heard too. And I can bear witness that he went straight home to bed last night. Fancy that! Well, what did they say at the boarding-house? Oh, I couldn't make out anything clearly. Either they knew nothing definite or else. They stopped talking when they saw me, and I did not dare to ask. Tessman, moving about uneasily. We must hope! We must hope that you misunderstood the Mrs. Elvsted. No, no, I am sure it was of him they were talking. And I heard something about the hospital, or— The hospital? No, surely that cannot be. Oh, I was in such mortal terror. I went to his lodgings and asked for him there. You could make up your mind to that, Thea. But I do. I really could bear the suspense no longer. But you didn't find him either, eh? No, and the people knew nothing about him. He hasn't been home since yesterday afternoon, they said. Yesterday? Fancy, how could they say that? Oh, I am sure something terrible must have happened to him. Header dear, how would it be if I were to go and make inquiries? No, no, don't you mix yourself up in this affair. Judge Brack, with his head in his hand, enters by the hall door, which Bertha opens and closes behind him. He looks grave and bows in silence. Oh, is that you, my dear judge, eh? Yes, it was imperative I should see you this evening. I can see you have heard the news about Anthrena. Yes, that among other things. Isn't it sad, eh? Well, my dear Tessman, that depends on how you look at it. Tessman looks doubtfully at him. Has anything else happened? Yes. Header, in suspense. Anything sad, Judge Brack? That, too, depends on how you look at it, Mrs. Tessman. Mrs. Elfstead, unable to restrain her anxiety. Oh, it is something about Eilert Loveborg. Brack, with a glance at her. What makes you think that, madam? Perhaps you have already heard something? Mrs. Elfstead, in confusion. No, nothing at all, but... Oh, for heaven's sake, tell us! Brack, shrugging his shoulders. Well, I regret to say Eilert Loveborg has been taken to the hospital. He is lying at the point of death. Mrs. Elfstead, shrieks. Oh, God, oh, God! To the hospital! And at the point of death! Header, involuntarily. So soon, then? Mrs. Elfstead, wailing. And we parted in anger, Header. Header, whispers. Teya, Teya, be careful. Mrs. Elfstead, not heeding her. I must go to him. I must see him alive. It is useless, madam. No one will be admitted. Oh, at least tell me what has happened to him. What is it? You don't mean to say that he has himself, eh? Yes, I am sure he has. Brack, keeping his eyes fixed upon her. Unfortunately, you have guessed quite correctly, Mrs. Tessman. Oh, how horrible. Himself, then. Fancy that. Shot himself. Rightly guessed again, Mrs. Tessman. Mrs. Elfstead, with an effort at self-control. When did it happen, Mr. Brack? This afternoon, between three and four. But, good lord, where did he do it, eh? Brack, with some hesitation. Where? Well, I suppose at his lodgings. No, that cannot be, for I was there between six and seven. Well, then, somewhere else. I don't know exactly. I only know that he was found. He had shot himself in the breast. Oh, how terrible, that he should die like that. Header to Brack. Was it in the breast? Yes, as I told you. Not in the temple? In the breast, Mrs. Tessman. Well, well, the breast is a good place, too. How do you mean, Mrs. Tessman? Header evasively. Oh, nothing. Nothing. And the wound is dangerous, you say, eh? Absolutely mortal. The end has probably come by this time. Yes. Yes, I feel it. The end. The end. Oh, Header. But tell me, how have you learned all this? Brack, curtly. Through one of the police. A man I had some business with. Header, in a clear voice. At last a deed worth doing. Tessman, terrified. Good heavens, Header, what are you saying? I say there is beauty in this. Hmm. Mrs. Tessman. Oh, Header, how can you talk of beauty in such an act? Eilert Loveborg has himself made up his account with life. He has had the courage to do the one right thing. No, you must never think that was how it happened. It must have been in delirium that he did it. In despair. That he did not. I am certain of that. Yes. Yes, in delirium, just as when he tore up our manuscript. Brack, starting. The manuscript? Has he torn that up? Yes, last night. Tessman, whisper softly. Oh, Header, we shall never get over this. Hmm, very extraordinary. Tessman, moving about the room. To think of Eilert going out of the world in this way and not leaving behind him the book that would have immortalized his name. Oh, if only it could be put together again. Yes, if it only could. I don't know what I would not give. Perhaps it can, Mr. Tessman. What do you mean? Mrs. Elfstead searches in the pocket of her dress. Look here. I have kept all the loose notes he used to dictate from. Header, a step forward. Ah! You have kept them, Mrs. Elfstead, eh? Yes, I have them here. I put them in my pocket when I left home. Here they still are. Oh, do let me see them. Mrs. Elfstead, hence him a bundle of papers. But they are in such disorder all mixed up. Fancy if we could make something out of them after all. Perhaps if we put our heads together. Oh, yes. At least let us try. We will manage it. We must. I will dedicate my life to this task. You, George, your life. Yes, or rather all the time I can spare. My own collections must wait in the meantime. Header, you understand. I owe this to Eilert's memory. Perhaps. And so, my dear Mrs. Elfstead, we will give our whole minds to it. There is no use in brooding over what can't be undone, eh? We must try to control our grief as much as possible. Yes, yes, Mr. Tessman. I will do the best I can. Well then, come here. I can't rest until we have looked through the notes. Where shall we sit? Here? No, in there, in the back room. Excuse me, my dear Judge. Come with me, Mrs. Elfstead. Oh, if only it were possible. Tessman and Mrs. Elfstead go into the back room. She takes off her hat and cloak. They both sit at a table under the hanging lamp and are soon deep in an eager examination of the papers. Header crosses to the stove and sits in the armchair. Presently Bracky goes up to her. Header, in a low voice. Oh, what a sense of freedom it gives one, this act of alert loveborgs. Freedom? Mrs. Header? Well, of course, it is a release for him. I mean, for me. It gives me a sense of freedom to know that a deed of deliberate courage is still possible in this world. A deed of spontaneous beauty. Bracky, smiling. Hmm, my dear Mrs. Header. Oh, I know what you are going to say. For you are a kind of specialist too, like you know. Bracky, looking hard at her. Eilert Loveborg was more to you than perhaps you are willing to admit to yourself. Am I wrong? I don't answer such questions. I only know that Eilert Loveborg has had the courage to live his life after his own fashion. And then, the last great act with its beauty. Ah, that he should have the will and the strength to turn away from the banquet of life so early. I am sorry, Mrs. Header, but I fear I must dispel an amiable illusion. Illusion? Which could not have lasted long in any case. What do you mean? Eilert Loveborg did not shoot himself voluntarily. Not voluntarily? No. The thing did not happen exactly as I told it. Header, in suspense. Have you concealed something? What is it? For poor Mrs. Elfstead's sake, I idealized the facts a little. What are the facts? First, that he is already dead. At the hospital? Yes, without regaining consciousness. What more have you concealed? This. The event did not happen at his lodgings. Oh, that can make no difference. Perhaps it may, for I must tell you, Eilert Loveborg was found shot in Mademoiselle Diana's Boudoir. Header makes emotion as if to rise, but sinks back again. That is impossible, Judge Brack. He cannot have been there again today. He was there this afternoon. He went there, he said, to demand the return of something which they had taken from him. Talked wildly about a lost child. Ah, so that is why. I thought probably he meant his manuscript. But now I hear he destroyed that himself. So I suppose it must have been his pocketbook. Yes, no doubt. And there? There he was found? Yes, there. With a pistol in his breast pocket discharged. The ball had lodged in a vital part. In the breast, yes? No, in the bowels. Header looks up at him with an expression of loathing. That too. Oh, what curses it that makes everything I touch turn ludicrous and mean? There is one point more, Mrs. Header. Another disagreeable feature in the affair. And what is that? The pistol he carried. Header breathless. Well, what of it? He must have stolen it. Header leaps up. Stolen it? That is not true. He did not steal it. No other explanation is possible. He must have stolen it. Hush! Tessman and Mrs. Elstead have risen from the table in the back room and come into the drawing room. Tessman with the papers in both his hands. Header dear, it is almost impossible to see under that lamp. Think of that. Yes, I am thinking. Would you mind our sitting at your writing table, may? If you like. Quickly. No, wait. Let me clear it first. Oh, you need trouble, Header. There's plenty of room. No, no, let me clear it, I say. I will take these things in and put them on the piano. There. She has drawn out an object covered with sheet music from under the bookcase, places several other pieces of music upon it and carries the hole into the inner room to the left. Tessman lays the scraps of paper on the writing table and moves the lamp there from the corner table. He and Mrs. Elstead sit down and proceed with their work. Header returns. Header, behind Mrs. Elstead's chair, gently ruffling her hair. Well, my sweet Thea, how goes it with Eilert Loveborg's monument? Mrs. Elstead looks dispiritedly up at her. Oh, it will be terribly hard to put in order. We must manage it. I am determined. And arranging other people's papers is just the work for me. Header goes over to the stove and seats herself on one of the footstools. Brake stands over her, leaning on the armchair. Header whispers. What did you say about the pistol? Brake, softly. That he must have stolen it. Why stolen it? Because every other explanation ought to be impossible, Mrs. Header. Indeed. Brake glances at her. Of course. Eilert Loveborg was here this morning, was he not? Yes. Were you alone with him? Part of the time. Did you not leave the room whilst he was here? No. Try to recollect. Were you not out of the room a moment? Yes, perhaps just a moment, out in the hall. And where was your pistol case during that time? I had it locked up in- Well, Mrs. Header? The case stood there on the writing table. Have you looked since to see whether both pistols are there? No. Well, you need not. I saw the pistol found in Loveborg's pocket, and I knew it at once as the one I had seen yesterday, and before too. Have you it with you? No. The police have it. What will the police do with it? Search till they find the owner. Do you think they will succeed? Brack bends over her and whispers. No, Header Gobbler. Not as long as I say nothing. Header looks frightened at him. And if you do not say nothing, what then? Brack shrugs his shoulders. There is always the possibility that the pistol was stolen. Header firmly. Death rather than that. Brack smiling. People say such things, but they don't do them. Header without replying. And supposing the pistol was not stolen and the owner is discovered, what then? Well, Header, then comes the scandal. The scandal? Yes, the scandal of which you are so mortally afraid. You will, of course, be brought before the court, both you and Mademoiselle Diana. She will have to explain how the thing happened, whether it was an accidental shot or murder. Did the pistol go off as he was trying to take it out of his pocket to threaten her with? Or did she tear the pistol out of his hand, shoot him, and push it back into his pocket? That would be quite like her, for she is an able-bodied young person, this same Mademoiselle Diana. But I have nothing to do with all this repulsive business. No, but you will have to answer the question. Why did you give Eilert the pistol? And what conclusions will people draw from the fact that you did give it to him? Header, let her head sink. That is true. I did not think of that. Well, fortunately, there is no danger. So long as I say nothing. Header looks up at him. So, I am in your power, Judge Brack. You have me at your back and call from this time forward. Brack, whisper softly. Dearest Header, believe me, I shall not abuse my advantage. I am in your power nonetheless, subject to your will and your demands. A slave. A slave, then. Rises impetuously. No, I cannot endure the thought of that. Never. Brack looks half-mockingly at her. People generally get used to the inevitable. Header returns his look. Yes, perhaps. She crosses to the writing table. Suppressing an involuntary smile, she imitates Testum's intonations. Well, are you getting on, George, eh? Heaven knows, dear. In any case, it will be the work of months. Header, as before. Fancy that. Passes her hand softly through Mrs. Elf's dead hair. Doesn't it seem strange to you, Thea? Here you are, sitting with Testum, just as you used to sit with Eilert Loveborg. If only I could inspire your husband in the same way. Oh, that will come, too, in time. Yes, do you know, Header, I really think I begin to feel something of the sort. But won't you go and sit with Brack again? Is there nothing I can do to help you, too? No, nothing in the world. Turning his head. I trust to you to keep Header company, my dear Brack? Brack, with a glance at Header. With the very greatest of pleasure. Thanks, but I am tired this evening. I will go in and lie down a little on the sofa. Yes, do, dear. Header goes into the back room and draws the curtains. A short pause. Suddenly she is heard playing a wild dance on the piano. Mrs. Elfstead starts from her chair. Oh, what is that? Testum runs to the doorway. Why, my dearest Header, don't play dance music tonight. Just think of Aunt Rita and of Eilert, too. Header puts her head out between the curtains. And of Aunt Julia, and of all the rest of them. After this, I will be quiet. Closes the curtains again. Testum at the writing table. It's not good for her to see us at this distressing work. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Elfstead. You shall take the empty room and add Julia's, and then I will come over in the evenings so we can sit and work there, eh? Header in the inner room. I hear what you are saying, Testum, but how am I to get through the evenings out here? Testum turning over the papers. Oh, I daresay Judge Brack will be so kind as to look in now and then, even though I'm out. Brack in the armchair calls out Gaely. Every blessed evening, with all the pleasure in life, Mrs. Testum, we shall get on capitol-y together, we too. Header speaking loud and clear. Yes, don't you flatter yourself, we will, Judge Brack. Now that you are the one cock in the basket. A shot is heard with him. Testum, Mrs. Elfstead, and Brack leap to their feet. Oh, now she's playing with those pistols again. He throws back the curtains and runs in, followed by Mrs. Elfstead. Header lies stretched on the sofa, lifeless. Confusion and cries. Bertha enters in alarm from the right. Testum shrieks to Brack. Shot herself! Shot herself in the temple! Fancy that! Brack, half-fainting in the armchair. Good God! People don't do such things! The End End of Act Four End of Hedda Gabla by Henrik Ibsen Translated by Edmund Gossy and Will Thee Marcher