Hedvig. It’s not just a simple duck——
Ekdal. Hush!
Gregers. And it’s not a Turkish duck, either.
Ekdal. No, Mr.—Werle; it’s not a Turkish duck; for it’s a wild duck.
Gregers. No, is it really? A wild duck?
Ekdal. Yes, that it is. The “bird,” as you called it—is a wild duck. That’s our wild duck, my lad.
Hedvig. My wild duck. For she belongs to me.
Gregers. And it can live up here in this loft? And thrive here?
Ekdal. Of course, you understand, she’s got a trough full of water to splash about in.
Hjalmar. Fresh water every day.