He lays on one side a number of old letters, comes upon the torn paper of the day before, takes it up and looks at the pieces. He puts them down hurriedly when Gina comes in.
Gina (putting a breakfast tray on the table). Here’s some hot coffee, if you should want it. And there’s some bread and butter too, and some salt meat.
Hjalmar (glancing at the tray). Salt meat! Never beneath this roof! It is true I’ve partaken of no solid food for four and twenty hours, but no matter. My memoranda! The notes of my autobiography. Where’s my diary and my important papers? (He opens the door of the sitting-room, but draws back.) She is there too!
Gina. Well, good Lord, the child must be somewhere.
Hjalmar. Go out.
He stands aside. Hedvig frightened comes into the studio.
Hjalmar (with his hand on the door handle to Gina). During the last moments I am spending in what was once my home I wished to be spared from interlopers.
He goes into the room.
Hedvig (springing to her mother says in a low trembling voice). Does he mean me?
Gina. Stop in the kitchen, Hedvig; or no, you’d better go to your own room. (Speaking to Hjalmar as she goes in to him.) Wait a moment, Ekdal, don’t upset those drawers, I know where all the things are.