Hialmar.
[Coming in, in evening dress.] And he has not forgotten his promise, my child. Behold! [He presents her with the menu card; Hedvig gulps down her tears; Hialmar notices her disappointment, with annoyance.] And this all the gratitude I get! After dining out and coming home in a dress-coat and boots, which are disgracefully tight! Well well, just to show you how hurt I am, I won't have any beer now! What a selfish brute I am! [Relenting.] You may bring me just a little drop. [He bursts into tears.] I will play you a plaintive Bohemian dance on my flute. [He does.] No beer at such a sacred moment as this! [He drinks.] Ha, this is real domestic bliss!
[Gregers Werle comes in, in a countrified suit.
Gregers.
I have left my father's home—dinner-party and all—for ever. I am coming to lodge with you.
Hialmar.
[Still melancholy.] Have some bread and butter. You won't?—then I will. I want it, after your father's lavish hospitality. [Hedvig goes to fetch bread and butter.] My daughter—a poor short-sighted little thing—but mine own.
Gregers.
My father has had to take to strong glasses, too—he can hardly see after dinner. [To Old Ekdal, who stumbles in very drunk.] How can you, Lieutenant Ekdal, who were such a keen sportsman once, live in this poky little hole?
Old Ekdal.