You mustn't speak of it to a soul, Hedda! Do you hear! Promise me, for Eilert's sake. [Draws a parcel, wrapped in paper, from his coat pocket.] Fancy, dear—I found this.
HEDDA.
Is not that the parcel he had with him yesterday?
TESMAN.
Yes, it is the whole of his precious, irreplaceable manuscript! And he had gone and lost it, and knew nothing about it. Only fancy, Hedda! So deplorably—
HEDDA.
But why did you not give him back the parcel at once?
TESMAN.
I didn't dare to—in the state he was then in—
HEDDA.