Hjalmar. When the sentence was pronounced and he was to be put in gaol—he had that pistol in his hand——
Gregers. He had!
Hjalmar. Yes, but he did not dare. He was afraid. So demoralized, so lost even then was his spirit. Ah! Can you understand that? He a soldier; he who had shot nine bears, the descendant of two lieutenant-colonels—one after the other, of course. Can you understand it, Gregers?——
Gregers. Yes, I understand it very well.
Hjalmar. I do not. And then the pistol played a part too in another incident in the history of our house. When he had donned the gray dress, and was set under lock and key—ah! believe me that was a terrible time for me. I had pulled down the blinds of both my windows. When I looked out, I saw that the sun was shining as was its wont. I could not understand. I saw men walking about the streets, laughing and gossipping of indifferent matters. I could not understand. I thought all the universe must be standing still as at an eclipse of the sun.
Gregers. I felt so when my mother died.
Hjalmar. In that same hour Hjalmar Ekdal turned the pistol towards his own breast.
Gregers. So you, too, thought of that!
Hjalmar. Yes.
Gregers. But you did not fire?