Ekdal. Not the weather to-day for hunting. So dark there; you can hardly see your hand before your face.
Hedvig. Haven’t you ever felt inclined to shoot at something besides the rabbits.
Ekdal. Aren’t the rabbits good enough, eh?
Hedvig. Yes, but the wild duck?
Ekdal. Ha, ha! Are you afraid I shall shoot your wild duck? Not for the world, never.
Hedvig. No, I suppose you couldn’t; for they say it’s very difficult to shoot wild ducks.
Ekdal. Couldn’t? Should think I could.
Hedvig. How would you set about it, grandfather—I don’t mean with my wild duck, but with another one?
Ekdal. Would take care to shoot it under the breast, you know, for that’s the safest. And then you must shoot against the feathers, you see, not with the feathers.
Hedvig. And then they die, grandfather?