Nobody, you dear simple old soul! But I did it for your sake—it was love, George!
George.
[In an outburst between doubt and joy.] Hedda, you don't mean that! Your love takes such queer forms sometimes. Yes, but yes——[laughing in excess of joy] why, you must be fond of me! Just think of that now! Well, you are fun, Hedda! Look here, I must just run and tell the housemaid that—she will enjoy the joke so, eh?
Hedda.
[Coldly, in self-command.] It is surely not necessary even for a clever Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social drama, to make quite such a fool of himself as all that.
George.
No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep it quiet—though I must tell Aunt Julie—it will make her so happy to hear that you burnt a manuscript on my account! And, besides, I should like to ask her whether that's a usual thing with young wives. [Looks uneasy and pensive again.] But poor old Ejlert's manuscript! Oh Lor', you know! Well, well!
[Mrs. Elvsted comes in.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. Lövborg. Something has happened to him, I'm sure!