MRS. ELVSTED.
[In agonised foreboding.] Lovborg — what have you done with the manuscript?
HEDDA.
[Looks anxiously at him.] Yes, the manuscript — -?
MRS. ELVSTED.
Where is it?
LOVBORG.
The manuscript — -. Well then — I have torn the manuscript into a thousand pieces.
MRS. ELVSTED.
[Shrieks.] Oh no, no — -!
HEDDA.
[Involuntarily.] But that's not — -
LOVBORG.
[Looks at her.] Not true, you think?
HEDDA.
[Collecting herself.] Oh well, of course — since you say so. But it sounded so improbable — -
LOVBORG.
It is true, all the same.
MRS. ELVSTED.
[Wringing her hands.] Oh God — oh God, Hedda — torn his own work to pieces!
LOVBORG.
I have torn my own life to pieces. So why should I not tear my life- work too — -?
MRS. ELVSTED.
And you did this last night?
LOVBORG.
Yes, I tell you! Tore it into a thousand pieces — and scattered them on the fiord — far out. There there is cool sea-water at any rate — let them drift upon it — drift with the current and the wind. And then presently they will sink — -deeper and deeper — as I shall, Thea.
MRS. ELVSTED.
Do you know, Lovborg, that what you have done with the book — I shall think of it to my dying day as though you had killed a little child.
LOVBORG.
Yes, you are right. It is a sort of child-murder.
MRS. ELVSTED.
How could you, then — -! Did not the child belong to me too?
HEDDA.
[Almost inaudibly.] Ah, the child — -
MRS. ELVSTED.
[Breathing heavily.] It is all over then. Well well, now I will go, Hedda.
HEDDA.
But you are not going away from town?
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, I don't know what I shall do. I see nothing but darkness before me. [She goes out by the hall door.
HEDDA.
[Stands waiting for a moment.] So you are not going to see her home, Mr. Lovborg?
LOVBORG.
I? Through the streets? Would you have people see her walking with me?
HEDDA.
Of course I don't know what else may have happened last night. But is it so utterly irretrievable?
