KROGSTAD.
Your father died on the 29th of September. But, look here; your father dated his signature the 2nd of October. It is a discrepancy, isn't it? (NORA is silent.) Can you explain it to me? (NORA is still silent.) It is a remarkable thing, too, that the words "2nd of October," as well as the year, are not written in your father's handwriting but in one that I think I know. Well, of course it can be explained; your father may have forgotten to date his signature, and someone else may have dated it haphazard before they knew of his death. There is no harm in that. It all depends on the signature of the name; and that is genuine, I suppose, Mrs. Helmer? It was your father himself who signed his name here?
NORA.
(after a short pause, throws her head up and looks defiantly at him). No, it was not. It was I that wrote papa's name.
KROGSTAD.
Are you aware that is a dangerous confession?
NORA.
In what way? You shall have your money soon.
KROGSTAD.
Let me ask you a question; why did you not send the paper to your father?
NORA.
It was impossible; papa was so ill. If I had asked him for his signature, I should have had to tell him what the money was to be used for; and when he was so ill himself I couldn't tell him that my husband's life was in danger — it was impossible.
KROGSTAD.
It would have been better for you if you had given up your trip abroad.
NORA.
No, that was impossible. That trip was to save my husband's life; I couldn't give that up.
