Nora. But I suppose your daughter has quite forgotten you.
Nurse. No, indeed she hasn't. She wrote to me when she was confirmed, and when she was married.
Nora (putting her arms round her neck). Dear old Anne, you were a good mother to me when I was little.
Nurse. Little Nora, poor dear, had no other mother but me.
Nora. And if my little ones had no other mother, I am sure you would—What nonsense I am talking! (Opens the box.) Go in to them. Now I must—. You will see tomorrow how charming I shall look.
Nurse. I am sure there will be no one at the ball so charming as you, ma'am. (Goes into the room on the left.)
Nora (begins to unpack the box, but soon pushes it away from her). If only I dared go out. If only no one would come. If only I could be sure nothing would happen here in the meantime. Stuff and nonsense! No one will come. Only I mustn't think about it. I will brush my muff. What lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts, out of my thoughts! One, two, three, four, five, six—(Screams.) Ah! there is someone coming—. (Makes a movement towards the door, but stands irresolute.)
(Enter MRS. LINDE from the hall, where she has taken off her cloak and hat.)
Nora. Oh, it's you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is there? How good of you to come!
Mrs. Linde. I heard you were up asking for me.