Mr Punch's Pocket Ibsen – A Collection of Some of the Master's Best Known Dramas. Anstey F.

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      [Playfully.] Is that my little squirrel twittering – that my lark frisking in here?

      Ess! [To herself.] I have only been married eight years, so these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall!

      [Threatening with his finger.] I hope the little bird has surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh?

      [Bolting one, and wiping her mouth.] No, most certainly not. [To herself] The worst of being so babyish is – one does have to tell such a lot of taradiddles! [To Helmer.] See what I've bought – it's been such fun! [Hums.

      [Inspecting parcels.] H'm – rather an expensive little lark!

      Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which reminds me – [Plays with his coat-buttons.] I'm such a simple ickle sing – but if you are thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash!

      Just like your poor father, he always asked me to make it cash – he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well – well!

      What, Christina – why, how old you look! But then you are poor. I'm not. Torvald has just been made a Bank Manager. [Tidies the room.] Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But of course, you wouldn't know. We were poor once, and, do you know, when Torvald was ill, I – [tossing her head] – though I am such a frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed £300 for him to go abroad. Wasn't that clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you who lent it. I didn't even tell Torvald. I am such a mere baby I don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. Rank, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!"

      [Stroking her hair.] Do – it is a natural and innocent outburst – you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment. Do you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? [Proudly.] I am an excellent knitter!

      That would really be awfully funny. [To Helmer, who enters.] Torvald, this is Christina; she wants to be a clerk in your Bank —do let her! She thinks such a lot of you. [To herself.] Another taradiddle!

      She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come along, Mrs. Linden, and we'll see what we can do for you.

      [Opens door, and calls.] Now, Emmy, Ivar, and Bob, come in and have a romp with Mamma – we will play hide-and-seek. [She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction; Krogstad enters– Nora pounces out upon him.] Boo!.. Oh, I beg your pardon. I don't do this kind of thing generally– though I may be a little silly.

      [Politely.] Don't mention it. I called because I happened to see your husband go out with Mrs. Linden – from which, being a person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of £300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this little game at once.

      But I don't at all – not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you know – why should I?

      I will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. When you came to me for the loan, I naturally required some additional security. Your father, being a shady Government official, without a penny – for, if he had possessed one, he would presumably have left it to you – without a penny, then – I, as a cautious man of business, insisted upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are sharp fellows!

      Well, you got papa's signature, didn't you?

      Oh, I got it right enough. Unfortunately, it was dated three days after his decease – now, how do you account for that?

      How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't sign, I signed for him, that's all! Only somehow I forgot to put the date back. That's how. Didn't I tell you I was a silly, unbusiness like little thing? It's very simple.

      Very – but what you did amounts to forgery, notwithstanding. I happen to know, because I'm a lawyer, and have done a little in the forging way myself. So, to come to the point – if I get kicked out, I shall not go alone!

      It can't be wrong! Why, no one but Krogstad would have been taken in by it! If the Law says it's wrong, the Law's a goose – a bigger goose than poor little me even! [To Helmer, who enters.] Oh, Torvald, how you made me jump!

      Has anybody called? [Nora shakes her head.] Oh, my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers. Why, I just met that fellow Krogstad in the hall. He's been asking you to get me to take him back – now, hasn't he?

      [Walking about.] Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree looks!

      Never mind the tree – I want to have this out about Krogstad. I can't take him back, because many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, a close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, I have remarked that people who forge names seldom or never confide the fact to their children – which inevitably brings moral contagion into the entire family. From which it follows, logically, that Krogstad has been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, and is morally lost. [Stretches out his hands to her.] I can't bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me!

      But you never thought of dismissing him till Christina came!

      H'm! I've got some business to attend to – so good-bye, little lark!

      [Pale with terror.] If Krogstad poisons his children because he once forged a name, I must be poisoning Emmy, and Bob, and Ivar, because I forged papa's signature! [Short pause; she raises her head proudly.] After all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical inference! I mustn't play with the children any more – [hotly] – I don't care – I shall, though! Who cares for Krogstad?

      ACT SECOND

      The room, with the cheap Art-furniture as before – except that the candles on the Christmas tree have guttered down and appear to have been lately blown out. The cotton-wool frogs and the chenille monkeys are disarranged, and there are walking things on the sofa. Nora alone.

      Bother Krogstad! There, I won't think of him. I'll only think of the costume ball at Consul Stenborg's, overhead, to-night, where I am to dance the Tarantella all alone, dressed as a Capri fisher-girl. It struck Torvald that, СКАЧАТЬ