MRS LINDE. Well, I had to turn my hand to anything I could find—first a small shop, then a small school, and so on. The last three years have seemed like one long working-day, with no rest. Now it is at an end, Nora. My poor mother needs me no more, for she is gone; and the boys do not need me either; they have got situations and can shift for themselves. NORA. What a relief you must feel if— MRS LINDE. No, indeed; I only feel my life unspeakably empty. No one to live for anymore. _[Gets up restlessly.]_ That was why I could not stand the life in my little backwater any longer. I hope it may be easier here to find something which will busy me and occupy my thoughts. If only I could have the good luck to get some regular work—office work of some kind— NORA. But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look tired out now. You had far better go away to some watering-place. MRS LINDE. _[walking to the window]_. I have no father to give me money for a journey, Nora. NORA. _[rising]_. Oh, don’t be angry with me! MRS LINDE. _[going up to her]_. It is you that must not be angry with me, dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so bitter. No one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the lookout for chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me of the happy turn your fortunes have taken—you will hardly believe it—I was delighted not so much on your account as on my own. NORA. How do you mean?—Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps Torvald could get you something to do. MRS LINDE. Yes, that was what I was thinking of. NORA. He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the subject very cleverly—I will think of something that will please him very much. It will make me so happy to be of some use to you. MRS LINDE. How kind you are, Nora, to be so anxious to help me! It is doubly kind in you, for you know so little of the burdens and troubles of life. NORA. I—? I know so little of them? MRS LINDE. _[smiling]_. My dear! Small household cares and that sort of thing!—You are a child, Nora. NORA. _[tosses her head and crosses the stage]_. You ought not to be so superior. MRS LINDE. No? NORA. You are just like the others. They all think that I am incapable of anything really serious— MRS LINDE. Come, come— NORA. —that I have gone through nothing in this world of cares. MRS LINDE. But, my dear Nora, you have just told me all your troubles. NORA. Pooh!—those were trifles. _[Lowering her voice.]_ I have not told you the important thing. MRS LINDE. The important thing? What do you mean? NORA. You look down upon me altogether, Christine—but you ought not to. You are proud, aren’t you, of having worked so hard and so long for your mother? MRS LINDE. Indeed, I don’t look down on anyone. But it is true that I am both proud and glad to think that I was privileged to make the end of my mother’s life almost free from care.