NORA.
What a relief you must feel it —
MRS. LINDE.
No, indeed; I only feel my life unspeakably empty. No one to live for any more. (Gets up restlessly.) That is why I could not stand the life in my little backwater any longer. I hope it may be easier here to find something which will busy me and occupy my thoughts. If only I could have the good luck to get some regular work — office work of some kind —
NORA.
But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look tired out now. You had far better go away to some watering-place.
MRS. LINDE.
(walking to the window). I have no father to give me money for a journey, Nora.
NORA.
(rising). Oh, don't be angry with me.
MRS. LINDE.
(going up to her). It is you that must not be angry with me, dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so bitter. No one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the look-out for chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me of the happy turn your fortunes have taken — you will hardly believe it — I was delighted not so much on your account as on my own.
NORA.
How do you mean? — Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps Torvald could get you something to do.
MRS. LINDE.
Yes, that was what I was thinking of.
NORA.
He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the subject very cleverly — I will think of something that will please him very much. It will make me so happy to be of some use to you.
