The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 07 (of 11)Ibsen, Henrik
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The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 07 (of 11)
Ibsen, Henrik
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Translations into English; Norwegian drama -- Translations into English
KROGSTAD.
Put all that out of your head.
NORA.
How did you know what I had in my mind?
KROGSTAD.
Most of us think of _that_ at first. I thought of it, too; but I hadn’t
the courage——
NORA.
[_Tonelessly._] Nor I.
KROGSTAD.
[_Relieved._] No, one hasn’t. You haven’t the courage either, have you?
NORA.
I haven’t, I haven’t.
KROGSTAD.
Besides, it would be very foolish.—Just one domestic storm, and it’s all
over. I have a letter in my pocket for your husband——
NORA.
Telling him everything?
KROGSTAD.
Sparing you as much as possible.
NORA.
[_Quickly._] He must never read that letter. Tear it up. I will manage
to get the money somehow——
KROGSTAD.
Pardon me, Mrs. Helmer, but I believe I told you——
NORA.
Oh, I’m not talking about the money I owe you. Tell me how much you
demand from my husband—I will get it.
KROGSTAD.
I demand no money from your husband.
NORA.
What do you demand then?
KROGSTAD.
I will tell you. I want to regain my footing in the world. I want to
rise; and your husband shall help me to do it. For the last eighteen
months my record has been spotless; I have been in bitter need all the
time; but I was content to fight my way up, step by step. Now, I’ve been
thrust down again, and I will not be satisfied with merely being
reinstated as a matter of grace. I want to rise, I tell you. I must get
into the Bank again, in a higher position than before. Your husband
shall create a place on purpose for me——
NORA.
He will never do that!
KROGSTAD.
He will do it; I know him—he won’t dare to show fight! And when he and I
are together there, you shall soon see! Before a year is out I shall be
the manager’s right hand. It won’t be Torvald Helmer, but Nils Krogstad,
that manages the Joint Stock Bank.
NORA.
That shall never be.
KROGSTAD.
Perhaps you will——?
NORA.
Now I have the courage for it.
KROGSTAD.
Oh, you don’t frighten me! A sensitive, petted creature like you——
NORA.
You shall see, you shall see!
KROGSTAD.
Under the ice, perhaps? Down into the cold, black water? And next spring
to come up again, ugly, hairless, unrecognisable——
NORA.
You can’t terrify me.
KROGSTAD.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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