Gregers. Fortunately. The wrong done old Ekdal, both by me and others can never be made good; but I can free Hjalmar from all this lying and deceit which surround him and are ruining him.
Werle. Do you believe that that would be doing a good deed?
Gregers. I believe so—firmly.
Werle. Perhaps you fancy that the photographer Ekdal, is the man to thank you for such a friendly service?
Gregers. Yes—he is the man to do so.
Werle. H’m—we shall see.
Gregers. And besides if I am to go on living I must find some healing for my sick conscience.
Werle. That will never be sound. Your conscience has been sick since you were a child. That is a heritage from your mother, Gregers, the only heritage she left you.
Gregers (with a scornful half smile). Haven’t you yet got over your anger at the mistake you made in thinking she would bring you a dowry?
Werle. Don’t let us touch upon irrelevant things—So you hold to your purpose of putting Ekdal on what you assume to be the right scent.