You see, Mr. Lövborg, our dear little friend can't trust you! LÖVBORG. So _that_ is my comrade's faith in me! [_Gloomily._] _I'll_ show her if I am to be trusted or not. [_He drinks a glass of punch._] Now I'll go to the Judge's party. I'll have another glass first. Your health, Thea! So you came up to spy on me, eh? I'll drink the Sheriff's health--_everybody's_ health! [_He tries to get more punch._ HEDDA. [_Stopping him._] No more now. You are going to a party, remember. [GEORGE _and_ TESMAN _come in from back-room._ LÖVBORG. Don't be angry, Thea. I was fallen for a moment. Now I'm up again! [MRS. ELVSTED _beams with delight._] Judge, I'll come to your party, as you _are_ so pressing, and I'll read George my manuscript all the evening. I'll do all in _my_ power to make that party go! GEORGE. No? fancy! that _will_ be amusing! HEDDA. There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures! But Mr. Lövborg must be back at ten, to take dear Thea home! MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, goodness, yes! [_In concealed agony._] Mr. Lövborg, I shan't go away till you do! [_The three men go out laughing merrily; the Act-drop is lowered for a minute; when it is raised, it is 7_ A.M., _and_ MRS. ELVSTED _and_ HEDDA _are discovered sitting up, with rugs around them._ MRS. ELVSTED. [_Wearily._] Seven in the morning, and Mr. Lövborg not here to take me home _yet_! what can he be doing? HEDDA. [_Yawning._] Reading to Tesman, with vine-leaves in his hair, I suppose. Perhaps he has got to the third part. MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, do you _really_ think so, Hedda. Oh, if I could but hope he was doing that! HEDDA. You silly little ninny! I should like to scorch your hair off. Go to bed! [MRS. ELVSTED _goes_. [_Enter_ GEORGE. GEORGE. I'm a little late, eh? But we made _such_ a night of it. Fancy! It was most amusing. Ejlert read his book to me--think of that! Astonishing book! Oh, we really had great fun! I wish _I'd_ written it. Pity he's so irreclaimable. HEDDA. I suppose you mean he has more of the courage of life than most people? GEORGE. Good Lord! He had the courage to get more drunk than most people. But, altogether, it was what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy. We finished up by going to have early coffee with some of these jolly chaps, and poor old Lövborg dropped his precious manuscript in the mud, and I picked it up--and here it is! Fancy if anything were to happen to it! He never could write it again. _Wouldn't_ it be sad, eh? Don't tell any one about it. [_He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, and rushes out_; HEDDA _hides the packet as_ BRACK _enters._ BRACK.