_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 anyone about it. [_He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, and rushes out; HEDDA hides the packet as BRACK enters._ _Brack_. _Another_ early call, you see! My party was such a singularly animated _soirée_ that I haven't undressed all night. Oh, it was the liveliest affair conceivable! And, like a true Norwegian host, I tracked LÖVBORG home; and it is only my duty, as a friend of the house, and cock of the walk, to take the first opportunity of telling you that he finished up the evening by coming to mere loggerheads with a red-haired opera-singer, and being taken off to the police-station! You mustn't have him here any more. Remember our little triple alliance! _Hedda_ (_her smile fading away_). You are certainly a dangerous person--but you must not get a hold over me! _Brack_ (_ambiguously_). What an idea! But I might--I am an insinuating dog. Good morning! [_Goes out._ _Lövborg_ (_bursting in, confused and excited_). I suppose you've heard where _I've_ been? _Hedda_ (_evasively_). I heard you had a very jolly party at Judge BRACK's. [Mrs. ELVSTED _comes in._ _Lövborg_. It's all over. I don't mean to do any more work. I've no use for a companion now, THEA. Go home to your Sheriff! _Mrs. E._ (_agitated_). Never! I want to be with you when your book comes out! _Lövborg_. It won't _come_ out--I've torn it up! (_Mrs. E. rushes out, wringing her hands_.) Mrs. TESMAN, I told her a lie--but no matter. I haven't torn my book up--I've done worse! I've taken it about to several parties, and it's been through a police-row with me--now I've lost it. Even if I found it again, it wouldn't be the same--not to me! I am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar. So I must make an end of it altogether! _Hedda_. Quite so--but look here, you must do it beautifully. I don't insist on your putting vine-leaves in your hair--but do it beautifully. (_Fetches pistol._) See, here is one of General GABLER's pistols--do it with _that_! _Lövborg._ Thanks! [_He takes the pistol, and goes out through the hall-door; as soon as he has gone, HEDDA brings out the manuscript, and puts it on the fire, whispering to herself, as Curtain falls._ * * * * *