The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 08 (of 11)Ibsen, Henrik
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The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 08 (of 11)
Ibsen, Henrik
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Translations into English; Norwegian drama -- Translations into English
[_A shot fired within the garret._
GREGERS.
[_Starting up._] What’s that?
GINA.
Ugh! now they’re firing again!
GREGERS.
Have they firearms in there?
HEDVIG.
They are out shooting.
GREGERS.
What! [_At the door of the garret._] Are you shooting, Hialmar?
HIALMAR.
[_Inside the net._] Are you there? I didn’t know; I was so taken
up——[_To HEDVIG._] Why did you not let us know?
[_Comes into the studio._
GREGERS.
Do you go shooting in the garret?
HIALMAR.
[_Showing a double-barrelled pistol._] Oh, only with this thing.
GINA.
Yes, you and grandfather will do yourselves a mischief some day with
that there pigstol.
HIALMAR.
[_With irritation._] I believe I have told you that this kind of firearm
is called a _pistol_.
GINA.
Oh, that doesn’t make it much better, that I can see.
GREGERS.
So you have become a sportsman too, Hialmar.
HIALMAR.
Only a little rabbit-shooting now and then. Mostly to please father, you
understand.
GINA.
Men are strange beings; they must always have something to pervert
theirselves with.
HIALMAR.
[_Snappishly._] Just so; we must always have something to _divert_
ourselves with.
GINA.
Yes, that’s just what I say.
HIALMAR.
H'm. [_To GREGERS._] You see the garret is fortunately so situated that
no one can hear us shooting. [_Lays the pistol on the top shelf of the
bookcase._] Don’t touch the pistol, Hedvig! One of the barrels is
loaded; remember that.
GREGERS.
[_Looking through the net._] You have a fowling-piece too, I see.
HIALMAR.
That is father’s old gun. It’s of no use now; something has gone wrong
with the lock. But it’s fun to have it all the same; for we can take it
to pieces now and then, and clean and grease it, and screw it together
again.—Of course, it’s mostly father that fiddle-faddles with all that
sort of thing.
HEDVIG.
[_Beside GREGERS._] Now you can see the wild duck properly.
GREGERS.
I was just looking at her. One of her wings seems to me to droop a bit.
HEDVIG.
Well, no wonder; her wing was broken, you know.
GREGERS.
And she trails one foot a little. Isn’t that so?
HIALMAR.
Perhaps a very little bit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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