Tesman.
It must be the mountain air in the Tyrol——
Hedda.
[Curtly, interrupting.] I am exactly as I was when I started.
Tesman.
So you insist; but I’m quite certain you are not. Don’t you agree with me, Auntie?
Miss Tesman.
[Who has been gazing at her with folded hands.] Hedda is lovely—lovely—lovely. [Goes up to her, takes her head between both hands, draws it downwards, and kisses her hair.] God bless and preserve Hedda Tesman—for George’s sake.
Hedda.
[Gently freeing herself.] Oh—! Let me go.