HIALMAR. Let me see that letter. HEDVIG. [_Hands it to him._] There it is. HIALMAR. That is Mr. Werle’s hand. GINA. Are you sure of that, Ekdal? HIALMAR. Look for yourself. GINA. Oh, what do _I_ know about such-like things? HIALMAR. Hedvig, may I open the letter—and read it? HEDVIG. Yes, of course you may, if you want to. GINA. No, not to-night, Ekdal; it’s to be kept till to-morrow. HEDVIG. [_Softly._] Oh, can’t you let him read it! It’s sure to be something good; and then father will be glad, and everything will be nice again. HIALMAR. I may open it then? HEDVIG. Yes do, father. I'm so anxious to know what it is. HIALMAR. Well and good. [_Opens the letter, takes out a paper, reads it through, and appears bewildered._] What is this——! GINA. What does it say? HEDVIG. Oh yes, father—tell us! HIALMAR. Be quiet. [_Reads it through again; he has turned_ _pale, but says with self-control_:] It is a deed of gift, Hedvig. HEDVIG. Is it? What sort of gift am I to have? HIALMAR. Read for yourself. [HEDVIG _goes over and reads for a time by the lamp._ HIALMAR. [_Half-aloud, clenching his hands._] The eyes! The eyes—and then that letter! HEDVIG. [_Leaves off reading._] Yes, but it seems to me that it’s grandfather that’s to have it. HIALMAR. [_Takes the letter from her._] Gina—can you understand this? GINA. I know nothing whatever about it; tell me what’s the matter. HIALMAR. Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grandfather need not trouble himself any longer with the copying, but that he can henceforth draw on the office for a hundred crowns a month—— GREGERS. Aha! HEDVIG. A hundred crowns, mother! I read that. GINA. What a good thing for grandfather! HIALMAR. ——a hundred crowns a month so long as he needs it—that means, of course, so long as he lives. GINA. Well, so he’s provided for, poor dear. HIALMAR. But there is more to come. You didn’t read that, Hedvig. Afterwards this gift is to pass on to you. HEDVIG. To me! The whole of it?