Relling (whispers). Hold your row, man, you’re drunk.
Hjalmar and Gina carry out the dead body at the kitchen door; Relling closes it after them; Molvik slinks out through the passage.
Relling (goes up to Gregers). Nothing’ll ever make me believe that shot was an accident.
Gregers (who has been standing horror stricken shuddering convulsively). No one can say how this terrible thing happened.
Relling. The powder has singed her dress. She must have put the pistol straight to her breast and fired.
Gregers. Hedvig has not died in vain. Did you see how grief set free all that is noble in him?
Relling. Most people are ennobled when they stand sorrowing by the dead. But how long do you suppose this fine feeling will last with him?
Gregers. It will last and grow all his life through!
Relling. In three-quarters of a year little Hedvig will be nothing more to him than an excellent theme for declamation.
Gregers. And you dare to say this of Hjalmar Ekdal?