Gregers.
Must you go? Just when you've got nice firm ground to build upon—thanks to me! Then there's your great invention, too.
Hialmar.
Everything's invented already. And I only cared about my invention because, although it doesn't exist yet, I thought Hedvig believed in it, with all the strength of her sweet little short-sighted eyes! But now I don't believe in Hedvig!
[He pours himself out another cup of coffee.
Gregers.
[Earnestly.] But, Hialmar, if I can prove to you that she is ready to sacrifice her cherished Wild Duck? See!
[He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers Hedvig aiming at the Wild Duck with the butt-end of the pistol. Tableau.
Gina.
[Excitedly.] But don't you see? It's the pigstol—that fatal Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian dramas, never shoots straight! And she has got it by the wrong end too. She will shoot herself!