[THE SAME SCENE.—The table has been placed in the middle of the stage, with chairs around it. A lamp is burning on the table. The door into the hall stands open. Dance music is heard in the room above. Mrs Linde is sitting at the table idly turning over the leaves of a book; she tries to read, but does not seem able to collect her thoughts. Every now and then she listens intently for a sound at the outer door.]
MRS LINDE.
[looking at her watch]. Not yet—and the time is nearly up. If only
he does not—. [Listens again.] Ah, there he is. [Goes into the
hall and opens the outer door carefully. Light footsteps are heard on the
stairs. She whispers.] Come in. There is no one here.
KROGSTAD.
[in the doorway]. I found a note from you at home. What does this mean?
MRS LINDE.
It is absolutely necessary that I should have a talk with you.
KROGSTAD.
Really? And is it absolutely necessary that it should be here?
MRS LINDE.
It is impossible where I live; there is no private entrance to my rooms. Come
in; we are quite alone. The maid is asleep, and the Helmers are at the dance
upstairs.
KROGSTAD.
[coming into the room]. Are the Helmers really at a dance tonight?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, why not?
KROGSTAD.
Certainly—why not?
MRS LINDE.
Now, Nils, let us have a talk.
KROGSTAD.
Can we two have anything to talk about?
MRS LINDE.
We have a great deal to talk about.
KROGSTAD.
I shouldn’t have thought so.
MRS LINDE.
No, you have never properly understood me.
KROGSTAD.
Was there anything else to understand except what was obvious to all the
world—a heartless woman jilts a man when a more lucrative chance turns
up?
MRS LINDE.
Do you believe I am as absolutely heartless as all that? And do you believe
that I did it with a light heart?
KROGSTAD.
Didn’t you?
MRS LINDE.
Nils, did you really think that?
KROGSTAD.
If it were as you say, why did you write to me as you did at the time?
MRS LINDE.
I could do nothing else. As I had to break with you, it was my duty also to put
an end to all that you felt for me.
KROGSTAD.
[wringing his hands]. So that was it. And all this—only for the
sake of money!
MRS LINDE.
You must not forget that I had a helpless mother and two little brothers. We
couldn’t wait for you, Nils; your prospects seemed hopeless then.
KROGSTAD.
That may be so, but you had no right to throw me over for anyone else’s
sake.
MRS LINDE.
Indeed I don’t know. Many a time did I ask myself if I had the right to
do it.
KROGSTAD.
[more gently]. When I lost you, it was as if all the solid ground went
from under my feet. Look at me now—I am a shipwrecked man clinging to a
bit of wreckage.
MRS LINDE.
But help may be near.
KROGSTAD.
It was near; but then you came and stood in my way.
MRS LINDE.
Unintentionally, Nils. It was only today that I learned it was your place I was
going to take in the Bank.
KROGSTAD.
I believe you, if you say so. But now that you know it, are you not going to
give it up to me?
MRS LINDE.
No, because that would not benefit you in the least.
KROGSTAD.
Oh, benefit, benefit—I would have done it whether or no.
MRS LINDE.
I have learned to act prudently. Life, and hard, bitter necessity have taught
me that.
KROGSTAD.
And life has taught me not to believe in fine speeches.
MRS LINDE.
Then life has taught you something very reasonable. But deeds you must believe
in?
KROGSTAD.
What do you mean by that?
MRS LINDE.
You said you were like a shipwrecked man clinging to some wreckage.
KROGSTAD.
I had good reason to say so.
MRS LINDE.
Well, I am like a shipwrecked woman clinging to some wreckage—no one to
mourn for, no one to care for.
KROGSTAD.
It was your own choice.
MRS LINDE.
There was no other choice—then.
KROGSTAD.
Well, what now?
MRS LINDE.
Nils, how would it be if we two shipwrecked people could join forces?
KROGSTAD.
What are you saying?
MRS LINDE.
Two on the same piece of wreckage would stand a better chance than each on
their own.
KROGSTAD.
Christine I...
MRS LINDE.
What do you suppose brought me to town?
KROGSTAD.
Do you mean that you gave me a thought?
MRS LINDE.
I could not endure life without work. All my life, as long as I can remember, I
have worked, and it has been my greatest and only pleasure. But now I am quite
alone in the world—my life is so dreadfully empty and I feel so forsaken.
There is not the least pleasure in working for one’s self. Nils, give me
someone and something to work for.
KROGSTAD.
I don’t trust that. It is nothing but a woman’s overstrained sense
of generosity that prompts you to make such an offer of yourself.
MRS LINDE.
Have you ever noticed anything of the sort in me?
KROGSTAD.
Could you really do it? Tell me—do you know all about my past life?
MRS LINDE.
Yes.
KROGSTAD.
And do you know what they think of me here?
MRS LINDE.
You seemed to me to imply that with me you might have been quite another man.
KROGSTAD.
I am certain of it.
MRS LINDE.
Is it too late now?
KROGSTAD.
Christine, are you saying this deliberately? Yes, I am sure you are. I see it
in your face. Have you really the courage, then—?
MRS LINDE.
I want to be a mother to someone, and your children need a mother. We two need
each other. Nils, I have faith in your real character—I can dare anything
together with you.
KROGSTAD.
[grasps her hands]. Thanks, thanks, Christine! Now I shall find a way to
clear myself in the eyes of the world. Ah, but I forgot—
MRS LINDE.
[listening]. Hush! The Tarantella! Go, go!
KROGSTAD.
Why? What is it?
MRS LINDE.
Do you hear them up there? When that is over, we may expect them back.
KROGSTAD.
Yes, yes—I will go. But it is all no use. Of course you are not aware
what steps I have taken in the matter of the Helmers.
MRS LINDE.
Yes, I know all about that.
KROGSTAD.
And in spite of that have you the courage to—?
MRS LINDE.
I understand very well to what lengths a man like you might be driven by
despair.
KROGSTAD.
If I could only undo what I have done!
MRS LINDE.
You cannot. Your letter is lying in the letter-box now.
KROGSTAD.
Are you sure of that?
MRS LINDE.
Quite sure, but—
KROGSTAD.
[with a searching look at her]. Is that what it all means?—that
you want to save your friend at any cost? Tell me frankly. Is that it?
MRS LINDE.
Nils, a woman who has once sold herself for another’s sake, doesn’t
do it a second time.
KROGSTAD.
I will ask for my letter back.
MRS LINDE.
No, no.
KROGSTAD.
Yes, of course I will. I will wait here until Helmer comes; I will tell him he
must give me my letter back—that it only concerns my dismissal—that
he is not to read it—
MRS LINDE.
No, Nils, you must not recall your letter.
KROGSTAD.
But, tell me, wasn’t it for that very purpose that you asked me to meet
you here?
MRS LINDE.
In my first moment of fright, it was. But twenty-four hours have elapsed since
then, and in that time I have witnessed incredible things in this house. Helmer
must know all about it. This unhappy secret must be disclosed; they must have a
complete understanding between them, which is impossible with all this
concealment and falsehood going on.
KROGSTAD.
Very well, if you will take the responsibility. But there is one thing I can do
in any case, and I shall do it at once.
MRS LINDE.
[listening]. You must be quick and go! The dance is over; we are not
safe a moment longer.
KROGSTAD.
I will wait for you below.
MRS LINDE.
Yes, do. You must see me back to my door...
KROGSTAD.
I have never had such an amazing piece of good fortune in my life! [Goes out
through the outer door. The door between the room and the hall remains
open.]
MRS LINDE.
[tidying up the room and laying her hat and cloak ready]. What a
difference! what a difference! Someone to work for and live for—a home to
bring comfort into. That I will do, indeed. I wish they would be quick and
come—[Listens.] Ah, there they are now. I must put on my things.
[Takes up her hat and cloak. HELMER’S and NORA’S voices are
heard outside; a key is turned, and HELMER brings NORA almost by force into the
hall. She is in an Italian costume with a large black shawl around her; he is
in evening dress, and a black domino which is flying open.]
NORA.
[hanging back in the doorway, and struggling with him]. No, no,
no!—don’t take me in. I want to go upstairs again; I don’t
want to leave so early.
HELMER.
But, my dearest Nora—
NORA.
Please, Torvald dear—please, please—only an hour more.
HELMER.
Not a single minute, my sweet Nora. You know that was our agreement. Come along
into the room; you are catching cold standing there. [He brings her gently
into the room, in spite of her resistance.]
MRS LINDE.
Good evening.
NORA.
Christine!
HELMER.
You here, so late, Mrs Linde?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, you must excuse me; I was so anxious to see Nora in her dress.
NORA.
Have you been sitting here waiting for me?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, unfortunately I came too late, you had already gone upstairs; and I
thought I couldn’t go away again without having seen you.
HELMER.
[taking off NORA’S shawl]. Yes, take a good look at her. I think
she is worth looking at. Isn’t she charming, Mrs Linde?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, indeed she is.
HELMER.
Doesn’t she look remarkably pretty? Everyone thought so at the dance. But
she is terribly self-willed, this sweet little person. What are we to do with
her? You will hardly believe that I had almost to bring her away by force.
NORA.
Torvald, you will repent not having let me stay, even if it were only for half
an hour.
HELMER.
Listen to her, Mrs Linde! She had danced her Tarantella, and it had been a
tremendous success, as it deserved—although possibly the performance was
a trifle too realistic—a little more so, I mean, than was strictly
compatible with the limitations of art. But never mind about that! The chief
thing is, she had made a success—she had made a tremendous success. Do
you think I was going to let her remain there after that, and spoil the effect?
No, indeed! I took my charming little Capri maiden—my capricious little
Capri maiden, I should say—on my arm; took one quick turn round the room;
a curtsey on either side, and, as they say in novels, the beautiful apparition
disappeared. An exit ought always to be effective, Mrs Linde; but that is what
I cannot make Nora understand. Pooh! this room is hot. [Throws his domino on
a chair, and opens the door of his room.] Hullo! it’s all dark in
here. Oh, of course—excuse me—. [He goes in, and lights some
candles.]
NORA.
[in a hurried and breathless whisper]. Well?
MRS LINDE.
[in a low voice]. I have had a talk with him.
NORA.
Yes, and—
MRS LINDE.
Nora, you must tell your husband all about it.
NORA.
[in an expressionless voice]. I knew it.
MRS LINDE.
You have nothing to be afraid of as far as Krogstad is concerned; but you must
tell him.
NORA.
I won’t tell him.
MRS LINDE.
Then the letter will.
NORA.
Thank you, Christine. Now I know what I must do. Hush—!
HELMER.
[coming in again]. Well, Mrs Linde, have you admired her?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, and now I will say goodnight.
HELMER.
What, already? Is this yours, this knitting?
MRS LINDE.
[taking it]. Yes, thank you, I had very nearly forgotten it.
HELMER.
So you knit?
MRS LINDE.
Of course.
HELMER.
Do you know, you ought to embroider.
MRS LINDE.
Really? Why?
HELMER.
Yes, it’s far more becoming. Let me show you. You hold the embroidery
thus in your left hand, and use the needle with the right—like
this—with a long, easy sweep. Do you see?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, perhaps—
HELMER.
But in the case of knitting—that can never be anything but ungraceful;
look here—the arms close together, the knitting-needles going up and
down—it has a sort of Chinese effect—. That was really excellent
champagne they gave us.
MRS LINDE.
Well,—goodnight, Nora, and don’t be self-willed any more.
HELMER.
That’s right, Mrs Linde.
MRS LINDE.
Goodnight, Mr. Helmer.
HELMER.
[accompanying her to the door]. Goodnight, goodnight. I hope you will
get home all right. I should be very happy to—but you haven’t any
great distance to go. Goodnight, goodnight. [She goes out; he shuts the door
after her, and comes in again.] Ah!—at last we have got rid of her.
She is a frightful bore, that woman.
NORA.
Aren’t you very tired, Torvald?
HELMER.
No, not in the least.
NORA.
Nor sleepy?
HELMER.
Not a bit. On the contrary, I feel extraordinarily lively. And you?—you
really look both tired and sleepy.
NORA.
Yes, I am very tired. I want to go to sleep at once.
HELMER.
There, you see it was quite right of me not to let you stay there any longer.
NORA.
Everything you do is quite right, Torvald.
HELMER.
[kissing her on the forehead]. Now my little skylark is speaking
reasonably. Did you notice what good spirits Rank was in this evening?
NORA.
Really? Was he? I didn’t speak to him at all.
HELMER.
And I very little, but I have not for a long time seen him in such good form.
[Looks for a while at her and then goes nearer to her.] It is delightful
to be at home by ourselves again, to be all alone with you—you
fascinating, charming little darling!
NORA.
Don’t look at me like that, Torvald.
HELMER.
Why shouldn’t I look at my dearest treasure?—at all the beauty that
is mine, all my very own?
NORA.
[going to the other side of the table]. You mustn’t say things
like that to me tonight.
HELMER.
[following her]. You have still got the Tarantella in your blood, I see.
And it makes you more captivating than ever. Listen—the guests are
beginning to go now. [In a lower voice.] Nora—soon the whole house
will be quiet.
NORA.
Yes, I hope so.
HELMER.
Yes, my own darling Nora. Do you know, when I am out at a party with you like
this, why I speak so little to you, keep away from you, and only send a stolen
glance in your direction now and then?—do you know why I do that? It is
because I make believe to myself that we are secretly in love, and you are my
secretly promised bride, and that no one suspects there is anything between us.
NORA.
Yes, yes—I know very well your thoughts are with me all the time.
HELMER.
And when we are leaving, and I am putting the shawl over your beautiful young
shoulders—on your lovely neck—then I imagine that you are my young
bride and that we have just come from the wedding, and I am bringing you for
the first time into our home—to be alone with you for the first
time—quite alone with my shy little darling! All this evening I have
longed for nothing but you. When I watched the seductive figures of the
Tarantella, my blood was on fire; I could endure it no longer, and that was why
I brought you down so early—
NORA.
Go away, Torvald! You must let me go. I won’t—
HELMER.
What’s that? You’re joking, my little Nora! You
won’t—you won’t? Am I not your husband—? [A knock is
heard at the outer door.]
NORA.
[starting]. Did you hear—?
HELMER.
[going into the hall]. Who is it?
RANK.
[outside]. It is I. May I come in for a moment?
HELMER.
[in a fretful whisper]. Oh, what does he want now? [Aloud.] Wait
a minute! [Unlocks the door.] Come, that’s kind of you not to pass
by our door.
RANK.
I thought I heard your voice, and felt as if I should like to look in. [With
a swift glance round.] Ah, yes!—these dear familiar rooms. You are
very happy and cosy in here, you two.
HELMER.
It seems to me that you looked after yourself pretty well upstairs too.
RANK.
Excellently. Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t one enjoy everything in
this world?—at any rate as much as one can, and as long as one can. The
wine was capital—
HELMER.
Especially the champagne.
RANK.
So you noticed that too? It is almost incredible how much I managed to put
away!
NORA.
Torvald drank a great deal of champagne tonight too.
RANK.
Did he?
NORA.
Yes, and he is always in such good spirits afterwards.
RANK.
Well, why should one not enjoy a merry evening after a well-spent day?
HELMER.
Well spent? I am afraid I can’t take credit for that.
RANK.
[clapping him on the back]. But I can, you know!
NORA.
Doctor Rank, you must have been occupied with some scientific investigation
today.
RANK.
Exactly.
HELMER.
Just listen!—little Nora talking about scientific investigations!
NORA.
And may I congratulate you on the result?
RANK.
Indeed you may.
NORA.
Was it favourable, then?
RANK.
The best possible, for both doctor and patient—certainty.
NORA.
[quickly and searchingly]. Certainty?
RANK.
Absolute certainty. So wasn’t I entitled to make a merry evening of it
after that?
NORA.
Yes, you certainly were, Doctor Rank.
HELMER.
I think so too, so long as you don’t have to pay for it in the morning.
RANK.
Oh well, one can’t have anything in this life without paying for it.
NORA.
Doctor Rank—are you fond of fancy-dress balls?
RANK.
Yes, if there is a fine lot of pretty costumes.
NORA.
Tell me—what shall we two wear at the next?
HELMER.
Little featherbrain!—are you thinking of the next already?
RANK.
We two? Yes, I can tell you. You shall go as a good fairy—
HELMER.
Yes, but what do you suggest as an appropriate costume for that?
RANK.
Let your wife go dressed just as she is in everyday life.
HELMER.
That was really very prettily turned. But can’t you tell us what you will
be?
RANK.
Yes, my dear friend, I have quite made up my mind about that.
HELMER.
Well?
RANK.
At the next fancy-dress ball I shall be invisible.
HELMER.
That’s a good joke!
RANK.
There is a big black hat—have you never heard of hats that make you
invisible? If you put one on, no one can see you.
HELMER.
[suppressing a smile]. Yes, you are quite right.
RANK.
But I am clean forgetting what I came for. Helmer, give me a cigar—one of
the dark Havanas.
HELMER.
With the greatest pleasure. [Offers him his case.]
RANK.
[takes a cigar and cuts off the end]. Thanks.
NORA.
[striking a match]. Let me give you a light.
RANK.
Thank you. [She holds the match for him to light his cigar.] And now
goodbye!
HELMER.
Goodbye, goodbye, dear old man!
NORA.
Sleep well, Doctor Rank.
RANK.
Thank you for that wish.
NORA.
Wish me the same.
RANK.
You? Well, if you want me to sleep well! And thanks for the light. [He nods
to them both and goes out.]
HELMER.
[in a subdued voice]. He has drunk more than he ought.
NORA.
[absently]. Maybe. [HELMER takes a bunch of keys out of his pocket
and goes into the hall.] Torvald! what are you going to do there?
HELMER.
Emptying the letter-box; it is quite full; there will be no room to put the
newspaper in tomorrow morning.
NORA.
Are you going to work tonight?
HELMER.
You know quite well I’m not. What is this? Someone has been at the lock.
NORA.
At the lock—?
HELMER.
Yes, someone has. What can it mean? I should never have thought the
maid—. Here is a broken hairpin. Nora, it is one of yours.
NORA.
[quickly]. Then it must have been the children—
HELMER.
Then you must get them out of those ways. There, at last I have got it open.
[Takes out the contents of the letter-box, and calls to the kitchen.]
Helen!—Helen, put out the light over the front door. [Goes back into
the room and shuts the door into the hall. He holds out his hand full of
letters.] Look at that—look what a heap of them there are.
[Turning them over.] What on earth is that?
NORA.
[at the window]. The letter—No! Torvald, no!
HELMER.
Two cards—of Rank’s.
NORA.
Of Doctor Rank’s?
HELMER.
[looking at them]. Doctor Rank. They were on the top. He must have put
them in when he went out.
NORA.
Is there anything written on them?
HELMER.
There is a black cross over the name. Look there—what an uncomfortable
idea! It looks as if he were announcing his own death.
NORA.
It is just what he is doing.
HELMER.
What? Do you know anything about it? Has he said anything to you?
NORA.
Yes. He told me that when the cards came it would be his leave-taking from us.
He means to shut himself up and die.
HELMER.
My poor old friend! Certainly I knew we should not have him very long with us.
But so soon! And so he hides himself away like a wounded animal.
NORA.
If it has to happen, it is best it should be without a word—don’t
you think so, Torvald?
HELMER.
[walking up and down]. He had so grown into our lives. I can’t
think of him as having gone out of them. He, with his sufferings and his
loneliness, was like a cloudy background to our sunlit happiness. Well, perhaps
it is best so. For him, anyway. [Standing still.] And perhaps for us
too, Nora. We two are thrown quite upon each other now. [Puts his arms round
her.] My darling wife, I don’t feel as if I could hold you tight
enough. Do you know, Nora, I have often wished that you might be threatened by
some great danger, so that I might risk my life’s blood, and everything,
for your sake.
NORA.
[disengages herself, and says firmly and decidedly]. Now you must read
your letters, Torvald.
HELMER.
No, no; not tonight. I want to be with you, my darling wife.
NORA.
With the thought of your friend’s death—
HELMER.
You are right, it has affected us both. Something ugly has come between
us—the thought of the horrors of death. We must try and rid our minds of
that. Until then—we will each go to our own room.
NORA.
[hanging on his neck]. Goodnight, Torvald—Goodnight!
HELMER.
[kissing her on the forehead]. Goodnight, my little singing-bird. Sleep
sound, Nora. Now I will read my letters through. [He takes his letters and
goes into his room, shutting the door after him.]
NORA.
[gropes distractedly about, seizes HELMER’S domino, throws it round
her, while she says in quick, hoarse, spasmodic whispers]. Never to see him
again. Never! Never! [Puts her shawl over her head.] Never to see my
children again either—never again. Never! Never!—Ah! the icy, black
water—the unfathomable depths—If only it were over! He has got it
now—now he is reading it. Goodbye, Torvald and my children! [She is
about to rush out through the hall, when HELMER opens his door hurriedly and
stands with an open letter in his hand.]
HELMER.
Nora!
NORA.
Ah!—
HELMER.
What is this? Do you know what is in this letter?
NORA.
Yes, I know. Let me go! Let me get out!
HELMER.
[holding her back]. Where are you going?
NORA.
[trying to get free]. You shan’t save me, Torvald!
HELMER.
[reeling]. True? Is this true, that I read here? Horrible! No,
no—it is impossible that it can be true.
NORA.
It is true. I have loved you above everything else in the world.
HELMER.
Oh, don’t let us have any silly excuses.
NORA.
[taking a step towards him]. Torvald—!
HELMER.
Miserable creature—what have you done?
NORA.
Let me go. You shall not suffer for my sake. You shall not take it upon
yourself.
HELMER.
No tragic airs, please. [Locks the hall door.] Here you shall stay and
give me an explanation. Do you understand what you have done? Answer me! Do you
understand what you have done?
NORA.
[looks steadily at him and says with a growing look of coldness in her
face]. Yes, now I am beginning to understand thoroughly.
HELMER.
[walking about the room]. What a horrible awakening! All these eight
years—she who was my joy and pride—a hypocrite, a liar—worse,
worse—a criminal! The unutterable ugliness of it all!—For shame!
For shame! [NORA is silent and looks steadily at him. He stops in front of
her.] I ought to have suspected that something of the sort would happen. I
ought to have foreseen it. All your father’s want of principle—be
silent!—all your father’s want of principle has come out in you. No
religion, no morality, no sense of duty—. How I am punished for having
winked at what he did! I did it for your sake, and this is how you repay me.
NORA.
Yes, that’s just it.
HELMER.
Now you have destroyed all my happiness. You have ruined all my future. It is
horrible to think of! I am in the power of an unscrupulous man; he can do what
he likes with me, ask anything he likes of me, give me any orders he
pleases—I dare not refuse. And I must sink to such miserable depths
because of a thoughtless woman!
NORA.
When I am out of the way, you will be free.
HELMER.
No fine speeches, please. Your father had always plenty of those ready, too.
What good would it be to me if you were out of the way, as you say? Not the
slightest. He can make the affair known everywhere; and if he does, I may be
falsely suspected of having been a party to your criminal action. Very likely
people will think I was behind it all—that it was I who prompted you! And
I have to thank you for all this—you whom I have cherished during the
whole of our married life. Do you understand now what it is you have done for
me?
NORA.
[coldly and quietly]. Yes.
HELMER.
It is so incredible that I can’t take it in. But we must come to some
understanding. Take off that shawl. Take it off, I tell you. I must try and
appease him some way or another. The matter must be hushed up at any cost. And
as for you and me, it must appear as if everything between us were just as
before—but naturally only in the eyes of the world. You will still remain
in my house, that is a matter of course. But I shall not allow you to bring up
the children; I dare not trust them to you. To think that I should be obliged
to say so to one whom I have loved so dearly, and whom I still—. No, that
is all over. From this moment happiness is not the question; all that concerns
us is to save the remains, the fragments, the appearance—
[A ring is heard at the front-door bell.]
HELMER.
[with a start]. What is that? So late! Can the worst—? Can
he—? Hide yourself, Nora. Say you are ill.
[NORA stands motionless. HELMER goes and unlocks the hall door.]
MAID.
[half-dressed, comes to the door]. A letter for the mistress.
HELMER.
Give it to me. [Takes the letter, and shuts the door.] Yes, it is from
him. You shall not have it; I will read it myself.
NORA.
Yes, read it.
HELMER.
[standing by the lamp]. I scarcely have the courage to do it. It may
mean ruin for both of us. No, I must know. [Tears open the letter, runs his
eye over a few lines, looks at a paper enclosed, and gives a shout of joy.]
Nora! [She looks at him questioningly.] Nora!—No, I must read it
once again—. Yes, it is true! I am saved! Nora, I am saved!
NORA.
And I?
HELMER.
You too, of course; we are both saved, both you and I. Look, he sends you your
bond back. He says he regrets and repents—that a happy change in his
life—never mind what he says! We are saved, Nora! No one can do anything
to you. Oh, Nora, Nora!—no, first I must destroy these hateful things.
Let me see—. [Takes a look at the bond.] No, no, I won’t
look at it. The whole thing shall be nothing but a bad dream to me. [Tears
up the bond and both letters, throws them all into the stove, and watches them
burn.] There—now it doesn’t exist any longer. He says that
since Christmas Eve you—. These must have been three dreadful days for
you, Nora.
NORA.
I have fought a hard fight these three days.
HELMER.
And suffered agonies, and seen no way out but—. No, we won’t call
any of the horrors to mind. We will only shout with joy, and keep saying,
“It’s all over! It’s all over!” Listen to me, Nora. You
don’t seem to realise that it is all over. What is this?—such a
cold, set face! My poor little Nora, I quite understand; you don’t feel
as if you could believe that I have forgiven you. But it is true, Nora, I swear
it; I have forgiven you everything. I know that what you did, you did out of
love for me.
NORA.
That is true.
HELMER.
You have loved me as a wife ought to love her husband. Only you had not
sufficient knowledge to judge of the means you used. But do you suppose you are
any the less dear to me, because you don’t understand how to act on your
own responsibility? No, no; only lean on me; I will advise you and direct you.
I should not be a man if this womanly helplessness did not just give you a
double attractiveness in my eyes. You must not think anymore about the hard
things I said in my first moment of consternation, when I thought everything
was going to overwhelm me. I have forgiven you, Nora; I swear to you I have
forgiven you.
NORA.
Thank you for your forgiveness. [She goes out through the door to the
right.]
HELMER.
No, don’t go—. [Looks in.] What are you doing in there?
NORA.
[from within]. Taking off my fancy dress.
HELMER.
[standing at the open door]. Yes, do. Try and calm yourself, and make
your mind easy again, my frightened little singing-bird. Be at rest, and feel
secure; I have broad wings to shelter you under. [Walks up and down by the
door.] How warm and cosy our home is, Nora. Here is shelter for you; here I
will protect you like a hunted dove that I have saved from a hawk’s
claws; I will bring peace to your poor beating heart. It will come, little by
little, Nora, believe me. Tomorrow morning you will look upon it all quite
differently; soon everything will be just as it was before. Very soon you
won’t need me to assure you that I have forgiven you; you will yourself
feel the certainty that I have done so. Can you suppose I should ever think of
such a thing as repudiating you, or even reproaching you? You have no idea what
a true man’s heart is like, Nora. There is something so indescribably
sweet and satisfying, to a man, in the knowledge that he has forgiven his
wife—forgiven her freely, and with all his heart. It seems as if that had
made her, as it were, doubly his own; he has given her a new life, so to speak;
and she has in a way become both wife and child to him. So you shall be for me
after this, my little scared, helpless darling. Have no anxiety about anything,
Nora; only be frank and open with me, and I will serve as will and conscience
both to you—. What is this? Not gone to bed? Have you changed your
things?
NORA.
[in everyday dress]. Yes, Torvald, I have changed my things now.
HELMER.
But what for?—so late as this.
NORA.
I shall not sleep tonight.
HELMER.
But, my dear Nora—
NORA.
[looking at her watch]. It is not so very late. Sit down here, Torvald.
You and I have much to say to one another. [She sits down at one side of the
table.]
HELMER.
Nora—what is this?—this cold, set face?
NORA.
Sit down. It will take some time; I have a lot to talk over with you.
HELMER.
[sits down at the opposite side of the table]. You alarm me,
Nora!—and I don’t understand you.
NORA.
No, that is just it. You don’t understand me, and I have never understood
you either—before tonight. No, you mustn’t interrupt me. You must
simply listen to what I say. Torvald, this is a settling of accounts.
HELMER.
What do you mean by that?
NORA.
[after a short silence]. Isn’t there one thing that strikes you as
strange in our sitting here like this?
HELMER.
What is that?
NORA.
We have been married now eight years. Does it not occur to you that this is the
first time we two, you and I, husband and wife, have had a serious
conversation?
HELMER.
What do you mean by serious?
NORA.
In all these eight years—longer than that—from the very beginning
of our acquaintance, we have never exchanged a word on any serious subject.
HELMER.
Was it likely that I would be continually and forever telling you about worries
that you could not help me to bear?
NORA.
I am not speaking about business matters. I say that we have never sat down in
earnest together to try and get at the bottom of anything.
HELMER.
But, dearest Nora, would it have been any good to you?
NORA.
That is just it; you have never understood me. I have been greatly wronged,
Torvald—first by papa and then by you.
HELMER.
What! By us two—by us two, who have loved you better than anyone else in
the world?
NORA.
[shaking her head]. You have never loved me. You have only thought it
pleasant to be in love with me.
HELMER.
Nora, what do I hear you saying?
NORA.
It is perfectly true, Torvald. When I was at home with papa, he told me his
opinion about everything, and so I had the same opinions; and if I differed
from him I concealed the fact, because he would not have liked it. He called me
his doll-child, and he played with me just as I used to play with my dolls. And
when I came to live with you—
HELMER.
What sort of an expression is that to use about our marriage?
NORA.
[undisturbed]. I mean that I was simply transferred from papa’s
hands into yours. You arranged everything according to your own taste, and so I
got the same tastes as you—or else I pretended to, I am really not quite
sure which—I think sometimes the one and sometimes the other. When I look
back on it, it seems to me as if I had been living here like a poor
woman—just from hand to mouth. I have existed merely to perform tricks
for you, Torvald. But you would have it so. You and papa have committed a great
sin against me. It is your fault that I have made nothing of my life.
HELMER.
How unreasonable and how ungrateful you are, Nora! Have you not been happy
here?
NORA.
No, I have never been happy. I thought I was, but it has never really been so.
HELMER.
Not—not happy!
NORA.
No, only merry. And you have always been so kind to me. But our home has been
nothing but a playroom. I have been your doll-wife, just as at home I was
papa’s doll-child; and here the children have been my dolls. I thought it
great fun when you played with me, just as they thought it great fun when I
played with them. That is what our marriage has been, Torvald.
HELMER.
There is some truth in what you say—exaggerated and strained as your view
of it is. But for the future it shall be different. Playtime shall be over, and
lesson-time shall begin.
NORA.
Whose lessons? Mine, or the children’s?
HELMER.
Both yours and the children’s, my darling Nora.
NORA.
Alas, Torvald, you are not the man to educate me into being a proper wife for
you.
HELMER.
And you can say that!
NORA.
And I—how am I fitted to bring up the children?
HELMER.
Nora!
NORA.
Didn’t you say so yourself a little while ago—that you dare not
trust me to bring them up?
HELMER.
In a moment of anger! Why do you pay any heed to that?
NORA.
Indeed, you were perfectly right. I am not fit for the task. There is another
task I must undertake first. I must try and educate myself—you are not
the man to help me in that. I must do that for myself. And that is why I am
going to leave you now.
HELMER.
[springing up]. What do you say?
NORA.
I must stand quite alone, if I am to understand myself and everything about me.
It is for that reason that I cannot remain with you any longer.
HELMER.
Nora, Nora!
NORA.
I am going away from here now, at once. I am sure Christine will take me in for
the night—
HELMER.
You are out of your mind! I won’t allow it! I forbid you!
NORA.
It is no use forbidding me anything any longer. I will take with me what
belongs to myself. I will take nothing from you, either now or later.
HELMER.
What sort of madness is this!
NORA.
Tomorrow I shall go home—I mean, to my old home. It will be easiest for
me to find something to do there.
HELMER.
You blind, foolish woman!
NORA.
I must try and get some sense, Torvald.
HELMER.
To desert your home, your husband and your children! And you don’t
consider what people will say!
NORA.
I cannot consider that at all. I only know that it is necessary for me.
HELMER.
It’s shocking. This is how you would neglect your most sacred duties.
NORA.
What do you consider my most sacred duties?
HELMER.
Do I need to tell you that? Are they not your duties to your husband and your
children?
NORA.
I have other duties just as sacred.
HELMER.
That you have not. What duties could those be?
NORA.
Duties to myself.
HELMER.
Before all else, you are a wife and a mother.
NORA.
I don’t believe that any longer. I believe that before all else I am a
reasonable human being, just as you are—or, at all events, that I must
try and become one. I know quite well, Torvald, that most people would think
you right, and that views of that kind are to be found in books; but I can no
longer content myself with what most people say, or with what is found in
books. I must think over things for myself and get to understand them.
HELMER.
Can you not understand your place in your own home? Have you not a reliable
guide in such matters as that?—have you no religion?
NORA.
I am afraid, Torvald, I do not exactly know what religion is.
HELMER.
What are you saying?
NORA.
I know nothing but what the clergyman said, when I went to be confirmed. He
told us that religion was this, and that, and the other. When I am away from
all this, and am alone, I will look into that matter too. I will see if what
the clergyman said is true, or at all events if it is true for me.
HELMER.
This is unheard of in a girl of your age! But if religion cannot lead you
aright, let me try and awaken your conscience. I suppose you have some moral
sense? Or—answer me—am I to think you have none?
NORA.
I assure you, Torvald, that is not an easy question to answer. I really
don’t know. The thing perplexes me altogether. I only know that you and I
look at it in quite a different light. I am learning, too, that the law is
quite another thing from what I supposed; but I find it impossible to convince
myself that the law is right. According to it a woman has no right to spare her
old dying father, or to save her husband’s life. I can’t believe
that.
HELMER.
You talk like a child. You don’t understand the conditions of the world
in which you live.
NORA.
No, I don’t. But now I am going to try. I am going to see if I can make
out who is right, the world or I.
HELMER.
You are ill, Nora; you are delirious; I almost think you are out of your mind.
NORA.
I have never felt my mind so clear and certain as tonight.
HELMER.
And is it with a clear and certain mind that you forsake your husband and your
children?
NORA.
Yes, it is.
HELMER.
Then there is only one possible explanation.
NORA.
What is that?
HELMER.
You do not love me anymore.
NORA.
No, that is just it.
HELMER.
Nora!—and you can say that?
NORA.
It gives me great pain, Torvald, for you have always been so kind to me, but I
cannot help it. I do not love you any more.
HELMER.
[regaining his composure]. Is that a clear and certain conviction too?
NORA.
Yes, absolutely clear and certain. That is the reason why I will not stay here
any longer.
HELMER.
And can you tell me what I have done to forfeit your love?
NORA.
Yes, indeed I can. It was tonight, when the wonderful thing did not happen;
then I saw you were not the man I had thought you were.
HELMER.
Explain yourself better. I don’t understand you.
NORA.
I have waited so patiently for eight years; for, goodness knows, I knew very
well that wonderful things don’t happen every day. Then this horrible
misfortune came upon me; and then I felt quite certain that the wonderful thing
was going to happen at last. When Krogstad’s letter was lying out there,
never for a moment did I imagine that you would consent to accept this
man’s conditions. I was so absolutely certain that you would say to him:
Publish the thing to the whole world. And when that was done—
HELMER.
Yes, what then?—when I had exposed my wife to shame and disgrace?
NORA.
When that was done, I was so absolutely certain, you would come forward and
take everything upon yourself, and say: I am the guilty one.
HELMER.
Nora—!
NORA.
You mean that I would never have accepted such a sacrifice on your part? No, of
course not. But what would my assurances have been worth against yours? That
was the wonderful thing which I hoped for and feared; and it was to prevent
that, that I wanted to kill myself.
HELMER.
I would gladly work night and day for you, Nora—bear sorrow and want for
your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honour for the one he loves.
NORA.
It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done.
HELMER.
Oh, you think and talk like a heedless child.
NORA.
Maybe. But you neither think nor talk like the man I could bind myself to. As
soon as your fear was over—and it was not fear for what threatened me,
but for what might happen to you—when the whole thing was past, as far as
you were concerned it was exactly as if nothing at all had happened. Exactly as
before, I was your little skylark, your doll, which you would in future treat
with doubly gentle care, because it was so brittle and fragile. [Getting
up.] Torvald—it was then it dawned upon me that for eight years I had
been living here with a strange man, and had borne him three children—.
Oh, I can’t bear to think of it! I could tear myself into little bits!
HELMER.
[sadly]. I see, I see. An abyss has opened between us—there is no
denying it. But, Nora, would it not be possible to fill it up?
NORA.
As I am now, I am no wife for you.
HELMER.
I have it in me to become a different man.
NORA.
Perhaps—if your doll is taken away from you.
HELMER.
But to part!—to part from you! No, no, Nora, I can’t understand
that idea.
NORA.
[going out to the right]. That makes it all the more certain that it
must be done. [She comes back with her cloak and hat and a small bag which
she puts on a chair by the table.]
HELMER.
Nora, Nora, not now! Wait until tomorrow.
NORA.
[putting on her cloak]. I cannot spend the night in a strange
man’s room.
HELMER.
But can’t we live here like brother and sister—?
NORA.
[putting on her hat]. You know very well that would not last long.
[Puts the shawl round her.] Goodbye, Torvald. I won’t see the
little ones. I know they are in better hands than mine. As I am now, I can be
of no use to them.
HELMER.
But some day, Nora—some day?
NORA.
How can I tell? I have no idea what is going to become of me.
HELMER.
But you are my wife, whatever becomes of you.
NORA.
Listen, Torvald. I have heard that when a wife deserts her husband’s
house, as I am doing now, he is legally freed from all obligations towards her.
In any case, I set you free from all your obligations. You are not to feel
yourself bound in the slightest way, any more than I shall. There must be
perfect freedom on both sides. See, here is your ring back. Give me mine.
HELMER.
That too?
NORA.
That too.
HELMER.
Here it is.
NORA.
That’s right. Now it is all over. I have put the keys here. The maids
know all about everything in the house—better than I do. Tomorrow, after
I have left her, Christine will come here and pack up my own things that I
brought with me from home. I will have them sent after me.
HELMER.
All over! All over!—Nora, shall you never think of me again?
NORA.
I know I shall often think of you, the children, and this house.
HELMER.
May I write to you, Nora?
NORA.
No—never. You must not do that.
HELMER.
But at least let me send you—
NORA.
Nothing—nothing—
HELMER.
Let me help you if you are in want.
NORA.
No. I can receive nothing from a stranger.
HELMER.
Nora—can I never be anything more than a stranger to you?
NORA.
[taking her bag]. Ah, Torvald, the most wonderful thing of all would
have to happen.
HELMER.
Tell me what that would be!
NORA.
Both you and I would have to be so changed that—. Oh, Torvald, I
don’t believe any longer in wonderful things happening.
HELMER.
But I will believe in it. Tell me! So changed that—?
NORA.
That our life together would be a real wedlock. Goodbye. [She goes out
through the hall.]
HELMER.
[sinks down on a chair at the door and buries his face in his hands].
Nora! Nora! [Looks round, and rises.] Empty. She is gone. [A hope
flashes across his mind.] The most wonderful thing of all—?
[The sound of a door shutting is heard from below.]
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