"For goodness' sake, let go my legs!"
Rübub.
[Has risen, and comes in through glass-door, breathing with difficulty; he is a prematurely bald young man of fifty-five, with a harelip, and squints slightly.] I beg pardon, Dr. Herdal, I see I interrupt you. [As Senna rises.] I have just completed this pill. Have you looked at it?
[He offers it for inspection, diffidently.
Dr. Herdal.
[Evasively.] It appears to be a pill of the usual dimensions.
Rübub.
[Cast down.] All these years you have never given me one encouraging word! Can't you praise my pill?
Dr. Herdal.
[Struggles with himself.] I—I cannot. You should not attempt to compound pills on your own account.
Rübub.
[Breathing laboriously.] And yet there was a time when you, too——
Dr. Herdal.
[Complacently.] Yes, it was certainly a pill that came as a lucky stepping stone—but not a pill like that!
Rübub.
[Vehemently.] Listen! Is that your last word? Is my aged mother to pass out of this world without ever knowing whether I am competent to construct an effective pill or not?
Dr. Herdal.
[As if in desperation.] You had better try it upon your mother—it will enable her to form an opinion. Only mind—I will not be responsible for the result.
Rübub.
I understand. Exactly as you tried your pill, all those years ago, upon Dr. Ryval.
[He bows and goes out.
Dr. Herdal.
[Uneasily.] He said that so strangely, Senna. But tell me now—when are you going to marry him?
Senna.
[Starts—half glancing up at him.] I—I don't know. This year—next year—now—never! I cannot marry him ... I cannot—I cannot—it is so utterly impossible to leave you!
Dr. Herdal.
Yes, I can understand that. But, my poor Senna, hadn't you better take a little walk?
Senna.
[Clasps her hands gratefully.] How sweet and thoughtful you are to me! I will take a walk.
Dr. Herdal.
[With a suppressed smile.] Do! And—h'm!—you needn't trouble to come back. I have advertised for a male book-keeper—they are less emotional. Good-night, my little Senna!
Senna.
[Softly and quiveringly.] Good-night, Dr. Herdal!
[Staggers out of hall-door, blowing kisses.
Mrs. Herdal.
[Enters through the window, plaintively.] Quite an acquisition for you, Haustus, this Miss Blakdraf!
Dr. Herdal.
She's—h'm—extremely civil and obliging. But I am parting with her, Aline—mainly on your account.
Mrs. Herdal.
[Evades him.] Was it on my account, indeed, Haustus? You have parted with so many young persons on my account—so you tell me!
Dr. Herdal.
[Depressed.] Oh, but this is hopeless! When I have tried so hard to bring a ray of sunlight into your desolate life! I must give Rübub Kalomel notice too—his pill is really too preposterous!
Mrs. Herdal.
[Feels gropingly for a chair, and sits down on the floor.] Him, too! Ah, Haustus, you will never make my home a real home for me. My poor first husband, Halvard Solness, tried—and he couldn't! When one has had such misfortunes as I have—all the family portraits burnt, and the silk dresses, too, and a pair of twins, and nine lovely dolls.
[Chokes with tears.
Dr. Herdal.
[As if to lead her away from the subject.] Yes, yes, yes, that must have been a heavy blow for you, my poor Aline. I can understand that your spirits can never be really high again. And then for poor Master Builder Solness to be so taken up with that Miss Wangel as he was—that, too, was so wretched for you. To see him topple off the tower, as he did that day ten years ago——
Mrs. Herdal.
Yes, that too, Haustus. But I did not mind it so much—it all seemed so perfectly natural in both of them.
Dr. Herdal.
Natural! For a girl of twenty three to taunt a middle-aged architect, whom she knew to be constitutionally liable to giddiness, never to let him have any peace till he had climbed a spire as dizzy as himself—and all for the fun of seeing him fall off—how in the world——!
Mrs. Herdal.
[Laying the table for supper with dried fish and punch.] The younger generation have a keener sense of humour than we elder ones, Haustus, and perhaps after all, she was only a perplexing sort of allegory.
Dr. Herdal.
Yes, that would explain her to some extent, no doubt. But how he could be such an old fool!
Mrs. Herdal.
That Miss Wangel was a strangely fascinating type of girl. Why, even I myself——
Dr. Herdal.
[Sits down and takes some fish.] Fascinating? Well, goodness knows, I couldn't see that at all. [Seriously.] Has it never struck you, Aline, that elderly Norwegians are so deucedly impressionable—mere bundles of overstrained nerves, hypersensitive ganglia. Except, of course, the Medical Profession.
Mrs. Herdal.
Yes, of course; those in that profession are not so inclined to gangle. And when one has succeeded by such a stroke of luck as you have——
Dr. Herdal.
[Drinks a glass of punch.] You're right enough there. If I had not been called in to prescribe for Dr. Ryval, who used to have the leading practice here, I should never have stepped so wonderfully into his shoes as I did. [Changes to a tone of quiet chuckling merriment.] Let me tell you a funny story, Aline; it sounds a ludicrous thing—but all my good fortune here was based upon a simple little pill. For if Dr. Ryval had never taken it——
Mrs. Herdal.
[Anxiously.] Then you do think it was the pill that caused him to——?
Dr. Herdal.
On the contrary; I am perfectly sure the pill had nothing whatever to do with it—the inquest made it quite clear that it was really the liniment. But don't you see, Aline, what tortures me night and day is the thought that it might unconsciously have been the pill which—— Never to be free from that! To have such a thought gnawing and burning always—always, like a moral mustard plaster!
[He takes more punch.
Mrs. Herdal.
Yes; I suppose there is a poultice of that sort burning on every breast—and we must never take it off either—it is our simple duty to keep it on. I too, Haustus, am haunted by a fancy that if this Miss Wangel were to ring at our bell now——
Dr. Herdal.
After she has been lost sight of for ten years? She is safe enough in some sanatorium, depend upon it. And what if she did come? Do you think, my dear good woman, that I—a sensible clear-headed general practitioner, who have found out all I know for myself—would let her play the deuce with me as she did with poor Halvard? No, general practitioners don't do such things—even in Norway!
Mrs. Herdal.
Don't they indeed, Haustus? [The surgery-bell rings loudly.] Did you hear that? There she is! I will go and put on my best cap. It is my duty to show her that small attention.
Dr. Herdal.
[Laughing nervously.] Why, what on earth!—— It's the night-bell. It is most probably the new book-keeper! [Mrs. Herdal goes out; Dr. Herdal rises with difficulty, and opens the door.] Goodness gracious!—it is that girl, after all!
[Hilda Wangel enters through the dispensary door. She wears a divided skirt, thick boots, and a Tam o' Shanter with an eagle's wing in it. Somewhat freckled. Carries a green tin cylinder slung round her, and a rug in a strap. Goes straight up to Herdal, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
How are you? I've run you down, you see! The ten years are up. Isn't it scrumptiously thrilling, to see me like this?
Dr. Herdal.
[Politely retreating.] It is—very much so—but still I don't in the least understand——
Hilda.
[Measures him with a glance.] Oh, you will. I have come to be of use to you. I've no luggage, and no money. Not that that makes any difference. I never have. And I've been allured and attracted here. You surely know how these things come about?
[Throws her arms round him.
Dr. Herdal.
What the deuce! Miss Wangel, you mustn't. I'm a married man! There's my wife!
[Mrs. Herdal enters.
Hilda.
As if that mattered—it's only dear, sweet Mrs. Solness. She doesn't mind—do you, dear Mrs. Solness?
Mrs. Herdal.
It does not seem to be of much use minding, Miss Wangel. I presume you have come to stay?
Hilda.
[In amused surprise.] Why, of course—what else should I come for? I always come to stay, until—h'm! [Nods slowly, and sits down at table.
Dr. Herdal.
[Involuntarily.] She's drinking my punch! If she thinks I'm going to stand this sort of thing, she's mistaken. I'll soon show her a pill-doctor is a very different kind of person from a mere Master Builder!
[Hilda finishes the punch with an indefinable expression in her eyes, and Dr. Herdal looks on gloomily as the Curtain falls.
ACT SECOND
Dr. Herdal's drawing-room and dispensary, as before. It is early in the day. Dr. Herdal sits by the little table, taking his own temperature with a clinical thermometer. By the door stands the New Book-keeper; he wears blue spectacles and a discoloured white tie, and seems slightly nervous.
Dr. Herdal.
Well, now you understand what is necessary. My late book-keeper, Miss Blakdraf, used to keep my accounts very cleverly—she charged every visit twice over.
The New Book-keeper.
I am familiar with book-keeping by double entry. I was once employed at a bank.
Dr. Herdal.
I am discharging my assistant, too; he was always trying to push me out with his pills. Perhaps you will be able to dispense?
The New Book-keeper.
[Modestly.] With an additional salary, I should be able to do that too.
Dr. Herdal.
Capital! You shall dispense with an additional salary. Go into the dispensary, and see what you can make of it. You may mistake a few drugs at first—but everything must have a beginning.
[As the New Book-keeper retires, Mrs. Herdal enters in a hat and cloak with a watering-pot, noiselessly.
Mrs. Herdal.
Miss Wangel got up early, before breakfast, and went for a walk. She is so wonderfully vivacious!
Dr. Herdal.
So I should say. But tell me, Aline, is she really going to stay with us here?
[Nervously.
Mrs. Herdal.
[Looks at him.] So she tells me. And, as she has brought nothing with her except a tooth-brush and a powder-puff, I am going into the town to get her a few articles. We must make her feel at home.
Dr. Herdal.
[Breaking out.] I will make her not only feel but be at home, wherever that is, this very day! I will not have a perambulating Allegory without a portmanteau here on an indefinite visit. I say, she shall go—do you hear, Aline? Miss Wangel will go!
[Raps with his fist on table.
Mrs. Herdal.
[Quietly.] If you say so, Haustus, no doubt she will have to go. But you must tell her so yourself.
[Puts the watering-pot on the console table, and goes out, as Hilda enters, sparkling with pleasure.
Hilda.
[Goes up straight to him.] Good morning, Dr. Herdal. I have just seen a pig killed. It was ripping—I mean, gloriously thrilling! And your wife has taken a tremendous fancy to me. Fancy that!
Dr. Herdal.
[Gloomily.] It is eccentric certainly. But my poor dear wife was always a little——
Hilda.
[Nods her head slowly several times.] So you have noticed that too? I have had a long talk with her. She can't get over your discharging Mr. Kalomel—he is the only man who ever really understood her.
Dr. Herdal.
If I could only pay her off a little bit of the huge, immeasurable debt I owe her—but I can't!
Hilda.
[Looks hard at him.] Can't I help you? I helped Ragnar Brovik. Didn't you know I stayed with him and poor little Kaia—after that accident to my Master Builder? I did. I made Ragnar build me the loveliest castle in the air—lovelier, even, than poor Mr. Solness's would have been—and we stood together on the very top. The steps were rather too much for Kaia. Besides, there was no room for her on top. And he put towering spires on all his semi-detached villas. Only, somehow, they didn't let. Then the castle in the air tumbled down, and Ragnar went into liquidation, and I continued my walking-tour.
Dr. Herdal.
[Interested against his will.] And where did you go after that, may I ask, Miss Wangel?
Hilda.
Oh, ever so far north. There I met Mr. and Mrs. Tesman—the second Mrs. Tesman—she who was Mrs. Elvsted, with the irritating hair, you know. They were on their honeymoon, and had just decided that it was impossible to reconstruct poor Mr. Lövborg's great book out of Mrs. Elvsted's rough notes. But I insisted on George's attempting the impossible—with Me. And what do you think Mrs. Tesman wears in her hair now?
Dr. Herdal.
Why, really I could not say. Vine-leaves, perhaps.
Hilda.
Wrong—straws! Poor Tesman didn't fancy that—so he shot himself, un-beautifully, through his ticket-pocket. And I went on and took Rosmershölm for the summer. There had been misfortune in the house, so it was to let. Dear good old Rector Kroll acted as my reference; his wife and children had no sympathy with his views, so I used to see him every day. And I persuaded him, too, to attempt the impossible—he had never ridden anything but a rocking-horse in his life, but I made him promise to mount the White Horse of Rosmershölm. He didn't get over that. They found his body, a fortnight afterwards, in the mill-dam. Thrilling!
Dr. Herdal.
[Shakes his finger at her.] What a girl you are, Miss Wangel! But you mustn't play these games here, you know.
Hilda.
[Laughs to herself.] Of course not. But I suppose I am a strange sort of bird.
Dr. Herdal.
You are like a strong tonic. When I look at you I seem to be regarding an effervescing saline draught. Still, I really must decline to take you.
Hilda.
[A little sulky.] That is not how you spoke ten years ago, up at the mountain station, when you were such a flirt!
Dr. Herdal.
Was I a flirt? Deuce take me if I remember. But I am not like that now.
Hilda.
Then you have really forgotten how you sat next to me at the table d'hôte, and made pills and swallowed them, and were so splendid and buoyant and free that all the old women who knitted left next day?
Dr. Herdal.
What a memory you have for trifles, Miss Wangel; it's quite wonderful!
Hilda.
Trifles! There was no trifling on your part. When you promised to come back in ten years, like a troll, and fetch me!
Dr. Herdal.
Did I say all that? It must have been after table d'hôte!
Hilda.
It was. I was a mere chit then—only twenty-three; but I remember. And now I have come for you.
Dr. Herdal.
Dear, dear! But there is nothing of the troll about me now I have married Mrs. Solness.
Hilda.
[Looking sharply at him.] Yes, I remember you were always dropping in to tea in those days.
Dr. Herdal.
[Seems hurt.] Every visit was duly put down in the ledger and charged for—as poor little Senna will tell you.
Hilda.
Little Senna? Oh, Dr. Herdal, I believe there is a bit of the troll left in you still!
Dr. Herdal.
[Laughs a little.] No, no; my conscience is perfectly robust—always was.
Hilda.
Are you quite quite sure that, when you went indoors with dear Mrs. Solness that afternoon, and left me alone with my Master Builder, you did not foresee—perhaps wish—intend, even a little, that—— H'm?
Dr. Herdal.
That you would talk the poor man into clambering up that tower? You want to drag Me into that business now!
Hilda.
[Teasingly.] Yes, I certainly think that then you went on exactly like a troll.
Dr. Herdal.
[With uncontrollable emotion.] Hilda, there is not a corner of me safe from you! Yes, I see now that must have been the way of it. Then I was a troll in that, too! But isn't it terrible the price I have had to pay for it? To have a wife who—— No, I shall never roll a pill again—never, never!
Hilda.
[Lays her head on the stove, and answers as if half asleep.] No more pills? Poor Doctor Herdal!
Dr. Herdal.
[Bitterly.] No—nothing but cosy commonplace grey powders for a whole troop of children.
Hilda.
[Lively again..] Not grey powders! [Quite seriously.] I will tell you what you shall make next. Beautiful rainbow-coloured powders that will give one a real grip on the world. Powders to make every one free and buoyant, and ready to grasp at one's own happiness, to dare what one would. I will have you make them. I will—I will!
