"A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best authority on the fit of silk stockings."
Nora.
You mustn't really be so frivolous! Take that! [She hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings; then hums a little.] I want you to do me a great service, Dr. Rank. [Rolling up stockings.] I always liked you. I love Torvald most, of course—but, somehow, I'd rather spend my time with you—you are so amusing!
Dr. Rank.
If I am, can't you guess why? [A short silence.] Because I love you! You can't pretend you didn't know it!
Nora.
Perhaps not—but it was really too clumsy of you to mention it just as I was about to ask a favour of you! It was in the worst taste! [With dignity.] You must not imagine because I joke with you about silk stockings, and tell you things I never tell Torvald, that I am therefore without the most delicate and scrupulous self-respect! I am really quite a good little doll, Dr. Rank, and now—[sits in rocking chair and smiles]—now I shan't ask you what I was going to!
[Ellen comes in with a card.
Nora.
[Terrified.] Oh, my goodness!
[Puts it in her pocket.
Dr. Rank.
Excuse my easy Norwegian pleasantry—but—h'm—anything disagreeable up?
Nora.
[To herself.] Krogstad's card! I must tell another whopper! [To Rank.] No, nothing—only—only my new costume. I want to try it on here. I always do try on my dresses in the drawing-room—it's cosier, you know. So go in to Torvald and amuse him till I'm ready.
[Rank goes into Helmer's room, and Nora bolts the door upon him, as Krogstad enters from hall in a fur cap.
Krogstad.
Well, I've got the sack, and so I came to see how you are getting on. I mayn't be a nice man, but—[with feeling]—I have a heart! And, as I don't intend to give up the forged I.O.U.. unless I'm taken back, I was afraid you might be contemplating suicide, or something of that kind; and so I called to tell you that, if I were you, I wouldn't. Bad thing for the complexion, suicide—and silly, too, because it wouldn't mend matters in the least. [Kindly.] You must not take this affair too seriously, Mrs. Helmer. Get your husband to settle it amicably by taking me back as Cashier; then I shall soon get the whip-hand of him, and we shall all be as pleasant and comfortable as possible together!
Nora.
Not even that prospect can tempt me! Besides, Torvald wouldn't have you back at any price now!
Krogstad.
All right, then. I have here a letter, telling your husband all. I will take the liberty of dropping it in the letter-box at your hall-door as I go out. I'll wish you good evening!
[He goes out; presently the dull sound of a thick letter dropping into a wire box is heard.
Nora.
[Softly, and hoarsely.] He's done it! How am I to prevent Torvald from seeing it?
Helmer.
[Inside the door, rattling.] Hasn't my lark changed its dress yet? [Nora unbolts door.] What—so you are not in fancy costume, after all? [Enters with Rank.] Are there any letters for me in the box there?
Nora.
[Voicelessly.] None—not even a postcard! Oh, Torvald, don't, please, go and look—promise me you won't! I do assure you there isn't a letter! And I've forgotten the Tarantella you taught me—do let's run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down—promise me not to look at the letter-box. I can't dance unless you do.
Helmer.
[Standing still, on his way to the letter-box.] I am a man of strict business habits, and some powers of observation; my little squirrel's assurances that there is nothing in the box, combined with her obvious anxiety that I should not go and see for myself, satisfy me that it is indeed empty, in spite of the fact that I have not invariably found her a strictly truthful little dicky-bird. There—there. [Sits down to piano.] Bang away on your tambourine, little squirrel—dance away, my own lark!
Nora.
[Dancing, with a long gay shawl.] Just won't the little squirrel! Faster—faster! Oh, I do feel so gay! We will have some champagne for dinner, won't we, Torvald?
[Dances with more and more abandonment.
Helmer.
[After addressing frequent remarks in correction.] Come, come—not this awful wildness! I don't like to see quite such a larky little lark as this.... Really it is time you stopped!
Nora.
[Her hair coming down as she dances more wildly still, and swings the tambourine.] I can't....I can't! [To herself, as she dances.] I've only thirty-one hours left to be a bird in; and after that—[shuddering]—after that, Krogstad will let the cat out of the bag!
Curtain.
ACT THIRD
The same room—except that the sofa has been slightly moved, and one of the Japanese cotton-wool frogs has fallen into the fire-place. Mrs. Linden sits and reads a book—but without understanding a single line.
Mrs. Linden.
[Laying down her book, as a light tread is heard outside.] Here he is at last! [Krogstad comes in, and stands in the doorway.] Mr. Krogstad, I have given you a secret rendezvous in this room, because it belongs to my employer, Mr. Helmer, who has lately discharged you. The etiquette of Norway permits these slight freedoms on the part of a female cashier.
Krogstad.
It does. Are we alone? [Nora is heard overhead dancing the Tarantella.] Yes, I hear Mrs. Helmer's fairy footfall above. She dances the Tarantella now—by-and-by she will dance to another tune! [Changing his tone.] I don't exactly know why you should wish to have this interview—after jilting me as you did, long ago, though?
Mrs. Linden.
Don't you? I do. I am a widow—a Norwegian widow. And it has occurred to me that there may be a nobler side to your nature somewhere—though you have not precisely the best of reputations.
Krogstad.
Right. I am a forger, and a money-lender; I am on the staff of the Norwegian Punch—a most scurrilous paper. More, I have been blackmailing Mrs. Helmer by trading on her fears, like a low cowardly cur. But, in spite of all that—[clasping his hands]—there are the makings of a fine man about me yet, Christina!
Mrs. Linden.
I believe you—at least, I'll chance it. I want some one to care for, and I'll marry you.
Krogstad.
[Suspiciously.] On condition, I suppose, that I suppress the letter denouncing Mrs. Helmer?
Mrs. Linden.
How can you think so? I am her dearest friend; but I can still see her faults, and it is my firm opinion that a sharp lesson will do her all the good in the world. She is much too comfortable. So leave the letter in the box, and come home with me.
Krogstad.
I am wildly happy! Engaged to the female cashier of the manager who has discharged me, our future is bright and secure!
[He goes out; and Mrs. Linden sets the furniture straight; presently a noise is heard outside, and Helmer enters, dragging Nora in. She is in fancy dress, and he in an open black domino.
Nora.
I shan't! It's too early to come away from such a nice party. I won't go to bed!
[She whimpers.
Helmer.
[Tenderly.] There'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, Mrs. Linen! Poshtively had to drag her 'way! She'sh a capricious lil' girl—from Capri. 'Scuse me!—'fraid I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur again! Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us—'counts for it! [Sits down smiling.] Do you knit, Mrs. Cotton?... You shouldn't. Never knit. 'Broider. [Nodding to her, solemnly.] 'Member that. Alwaysh 'broider. More—[hiccoughing]—Oriental! Gobblesh you!—goo'ni!
Mrs. Linden.
I only came in to—to see Nora's costume. Now I've seen it, I'll go.
[Goes out.
Helmer.
Awful bore that woman—hate boresh! [Looks at Nora, then comes nearer.] Oh, you prillil squillikins, I do love you so! Shomehow, I feel sho lively thishevenin'!
