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NORA. 
 

 
 ' 
 
 
NORA. 
 
 A PLAY . ; 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY IBSEN. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN 
 
 HENRIETTA FRANCES LORD. 
 
 GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, 
 
 WEST CORNER ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 E. P. DUTTON AND CO., NEW YORK, 
 
 1882. 
 
The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved . 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 
 ! 
 
 ! 0 
 
 \P 
 
 \T Henrik Ibsen was born in Norway, March 20, 1828, and lived 
 there until 1864, when, in his distress that Sweden and Norway 
 would not help Denmark to resist Prussia, he wrote scornful 
 epigrams about his fellow-countrymen, and since then he has 
 not been in Norway. He lived for some years in Dresden, 
 ^ since 1878 has been chiefly in Rome, but has no settled home. 
 
 ^ Of his earlier works, Catilina , Eru Inger , The Comedy of Love, 
 P and above all, Rivals for the Crown , 1864, were those that chiefly 
 brought him into notice, until in 18 66 Brand gave him a fame 
 that grew with Peer Gynf, Youth' s Bond , Emperor and Galilean 
 (translated by Miss C. Ray: S. Tinsley), The Pillars of Society ; 
 1879 Nora appeared, and at Christmas 1881, Ghosts. 
 
 He has married a daughter of Mrs. Magdalene Thoresen, a 
 Norwegian poetess. He has a small literary pension from the 
 Norwegian Government, the rest of his income is derived from 
 \ his writings. 
 
 His long grey hair and whiskers make him look somewhat more 
 than fifty. He is short but firmly and well built, so that he looks 
 taller than he is. The most characteristic points in his serious, 
 decided face are his powerful forehead, which is remarkably 
 broad and high, a very Jupiter’s brow, and his delicate mouth; 
 it has no lips, but shuts energetically in a fine line, and it 
 expresses inexhaustible will, as though some giant resolve were 
 for ever being taken afresh. His small blue eyes almost dis- 
 appear behind his spectacles. His nose is quite Northern in its 
 irregularity. He speaks softly, moves slowly, and rarely gesticu- 
 lates. His self-command almost amounts to coldness ; it is but 
 the snow that covers a volcano of wild and passionate power. 
 
 The play now given us as Nora is called in Norwegian Ett 
 Dukkehjem. To a public unused to Ibsen’s surprises, A Doll's 
 House is a misleading title ; the German translator seems to have 
 felt this too, and preferred to call his translation of the play Nora . 
 
VI 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 Whatever is written in Swedish, Norwegian, or Danish can be 
 read without a translator’s help in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, 
 and Finland ; and, as I learnt during my own residence in 
 Stockholm, 1878-9, the cultivated homes among these ten 
 millions of people look to Ibsen as their great teacher. They 
 do not always like what he says, but they let him speak on. 
 Such furious discussion did Nora rouse when, the play came out, 
 1879-80, that many a social invitation given in Stockholm 
 during that winter bore the words, “You are requested not to 
 mention Ibsen’s Doll's House!" The play’s firm hold on the 
 Scandinavian mind has been strengthened, rather than effaced, 
 by his Ghosts (1881) ; and how firm this hold is a mass of 
 criticism shows as it continues to pour from the press. In 
 a series of essays called ‘ Questions of the Day ’ is Ibsen 
 and the Marriage Question, by ‘Robinson.’ It explains Ibsen’s 
 position in the worlds of thought and literature, and in Scandi- 
 navian estimation so well, that I venture to give much of its 
 substance. 
 
 Marriage is still an unsettled problem. The Eastern poets 
 sing Woman a slave, the Western, Man enslaved by her. 
 But far-sighted spirits like Dante reject both views, and sing 
 Ideal Love, a thought too precious for humanity to let it escape 
 when once it reached human consciousness. Yet it is philo- 
 sophers and moralists whom Time leads to accept it, while the 
 poets, its first leaders, ignore the truth that marriage involves 
 human dignity, responsibility, community, and mutual trust. It 
 is to making this truth clear that Henry Ibsen has devoted his 
 poet’s gift. No sooner does a great and popular poet do so, 
 than we see how little woman’s own voice has been heard in 
 other poetry ; and we feel thankful that a singer who can make 
 himself gladly heard is singing of freedom, openness, true and 
 conscious devotion, conscience responsible to itself alike in man 
 and woman. Ibsen sees the world deluged by masculine quali- 
 ties ; he approves them if, by devotion to a distinct plan and its 
 execution, they touch heroism, otherwise he chases lovers of self 
 mercilessly about with scorn or laughter. He sees womanly 
 qualities hidden, fled away, or misunderstood. He does not 
 construct some purely harmonious circumstances, and show 
 Woman attaining a seeming equilibrium, and becoming all that 
 her nature is capable of. He either shows her driven to crime 
 or eccentricity by cramped or misdirected development (as Nora 
 was), or losing her womanliness by being reared in a wrong state 
 of society (like Helen in Emperor and Galilean) ; or finally he 
 opens all the great gates of his poetry to noble, pure-hearted, 
 loving, disappointed women, who move about among reckless 
 men as the natural centres for conversion and reconciliation, but 
 either lack courage to seize the occasion, or, if they have much 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 vii 
 
 courage, happen to have such a pig-headed, one-sided manhood 
 to deal with, that the inspired woman, the heavenly herald of 
 nature and conscience, is trampled under foot, or passed by, the 
 man regretting it, but when it is too late. 
 
 Such are most of Ibsen’s women. He considers they are to 
 be found everywhere, a latent force whose accession humanity 
 needs, and that his task is to release the Sleeping Beauty, as the 
 prince did in our childish fable. The thorny wood has grown 
 all i-ound. Meanwhile, unwomanliness flaunts outside ; the 
 thorns are blooming. Men dream away life amid this injury to 
 womanhood ; at any rate they forget to break their way in to 
 reality — they are ready for any deed rather than that. Ibsen 
 approaches the thorn-girt home ; he knows that every expression 
 crushes thousands of conventionality’s roses ; and on his plain 
 but trusty sword are these words only — Love and Understand. 
 Expanded, the words mean — The union between two people is 
 only true according as they love and understand each other in 
 thought, feeling, and will, tasks of duty and sources of joy, and 
 are consequently able to fight life’s battles, bear its pains, and 
 enjoy its glory together ; and this by having directed, forwarded, 
 and freed each other’s development. 
 
 Renowned as Ibsen has long been, it was Nora (1879, during 
 a few months’ journey round Europe) that procured him the title 
 ‘Woman’s Poet,’ because it threw a lightning flash over all his 
 past writing. 
 
 To see Ibsen’s position as a dramatist we ought to glance 
 at the history of the stage, and especially at the French stage, 
 which has influenced all other dramatic writing for the past 150 
 years, and then we shall ask why Ibsen passes by and turns away 
 from something by which Frenchmen produce their greatest stage 
 effects. That class of women to whom novels and plays have 
 been giving complete publicity year after year, and who are very 
 conspicuous in the world, are almost excluded from the great 
 Northman’s works. While French dramatists and their disciples 
 are never weary of depicting these beings, who have nothing of 
 woman but her outward enchantment, whereby they rule Society’s 
 life, and are like a pest in its midst, Ibsen has worked out but 
 one such figure, Helen in the Emperor and Galilean , and he 
 chastises her as before him only the world’s greatest poets for the 
 stage have dared to chastise her like. Through Ibsen, as through 
 Shakespeare, we get a striking impression that the one absolutely 
 unpoetical thing in humanity is to be born to develop through 
 struggle and change into a human being, and yet to will to have 
 one’s influence in life only as being a beautiful animal. 
 
 Other poets — modern Frenchmen and Swinburne even more 
 than they— may show by the strongest language that they hold 
 this same view, and how every such woman exists but as an 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 viii 
 
 injury, a sort of scar on humanity’s living organism ; but all their 
 words only increase her power, and she knows this only too well. 
 
 Under our existing social conditions Silence is the only thing 
 that can possibly lessen her death-bringing power ; that people 
 should find a world-renowned poet, who knows how to touch 
 all the fine chords of ideality, and at the same time is wide awake 
 to all that goes on around him, simply sets her aside, wholly 
 ignores her, or makes her a mere listener, puts her outside the 
 real action of the poem, and in the same position as a listless 
 and ignorant person occupies during brilliant conversation among 
 intelligent people, so that the reader or the onlooker is obliged 
 to ask himself how a being thus spiritually defective could ever 
 have got a place amid the awakened life of human work and 
 human will. 
 
 Thinking Frenchmen seem to wish to treat such women not 
 as exceptions to womanhood, but as characteristic of it ; but 
 whether the woman be cunning or simple, coquette or prude, she 
 never arrives at any development through the action of the piece, 
 and there is nothing to show whether she will end in being like 
 her surroundings, or be educated by life into real womanhood. 
 Ibsen, on the contrary, handles the question of development 
 seriously, as being for woman the question of awakening in the 
 end to being able to love devotedly and really. 
 
 It is not only as an idealist that Ibsen knows this is the 
 highest thing ; he knows as a realist, as a friend to the modern 
 philosophy of development or ‘ evolution,’ that every return to 
 an earlier or ruder view of life, when a more human one has 
 already entered the general consciousness, is unnatural. With 
 these two convictions he plans his work and carries it out ; he 
 feels he is the messenger of nature and the spirit, and therefore, 
 amid the moral anachronisms in the rest of European poetry, he 
 bursts in like a storm from the North to clear the air. So far as 
 he is concerned he will contribute nothing to justify antiquated 
 habits of thought. 
 
 Ibsen considers that the womanly life that is available for 
 dramatic purposes, all the conditions for passionate action among 
 her virtues and sins, together with the events arising out of them, 
 are different from what they were in past times, because the sort 
 of influence it is now natural for her to strive after is different. 
 
 Woman of course exercises influence in all possible ways ; but 
 if it be not that of a free and loving being, it drags down, it is 
 an influence of somnambulism, death, and retrogression, a return 
 to the Oriental idea of the relation between the sexes, according 
 to which it is a merit for her to have no soul. 
 
 Against this now antiquated, animal view, whether on its re- 
 spectable or its unrespectable side, Ibsen wages ceaseless war, 
 and with a strategy that he has devised for himself. At any 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 IX 
 
 rate he has turned his back on the French method which has 
 been so industriously copied. 
 
 All women who willingly or unwillingly are part of the con- 
 federacy for maintaining the exclusive responsibility of man’s 
 qualities in the world, all women who thus consciously or 
 unconsciously are foes to woman’s development, and, if they try 
 to have influence, try to have it in some other and therefore 
 some unnatural way, Ibsen disposes of summarily : in Princess 
 Helen and a few others. And he considers he has then got rid 
 of the whole brood. 
 
 But the richest streams from the royal veins of his poetry flow 
 towards the other women, who are natural, fresh, self-deceived ; 
 who desired development, but did not as a rule find circum- 
 stances ripe enough to give it them ; who were thus cheated out 
 of life ; who were alone in their day, or even before their day. He 
 considers that he has a good opportunity for doing this even 
 when he is handling the great historic forces of the world, religious 
 and other grave matters ; his reason presumably being that he 
 considers these great things can never be settled without one half 
 of the human race. 
 
 It is, then, marriage in its widest sense, the common work of 
 man and woman, which is the question of questions to the great 
 poet ; the question that involves the final untying of every knot 
 of difficulty, or at least the question whether or no we are to 
 realize the idea of our race. 
 
 Nothing is justifiable in man or woman that is one-sided. 
 Ibsen’s plays show what ruin the Furies of one-sidedness can 
 work in the absence of harmonious understanding between man 
 and woman. Ibsen views the relation between the sexes as the 
 ultimate cause our reason can trace for all the unloveliness our 
 race has inherited. This unloveliness may have more remote 
 causes, and he suggests these infinite questions, but without 
 believing he can get incontestable answers to them, as he believes 
 he can about marriage. 
 
 A reader who from nature or teaching inclines to the Oriental 
 view of the sexes, will find Ibsen’s writings merely ‘destructive ’ 
 and ‘ negative.’ Our examination will lead us, however, to see 
 that his poetry is more constructive and positive than any other 
 of his time ; for to say that a wrong relation between the sexes 
 is for us human beings the visible reason for all that is unlovely, 
 is the same as saying that beauty, or the realizing the idea of our 
 race, is much nearer to us, more natural, more possible, than we 
 could otherwise dare to believe. 
 
 The contempt for women associated with Don Juan’s name has 
 given place to another story, also a mediaeval one, that of Venus and 
 Tannhauser, where woman is the leader astray, and just now this is 
 the only story that is applied in dramatic writing. Possibly some 
 
X 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 poets fancy that they do woman honour thereby, so far as her sex 
 may be said to exercise a sort of right of chastisement for centuries 
 of hampered development. The poison does not consist in our 
 awakening to the consciousness that we possess senses as well as 
 souls. That consciousness is exactly what a poet should rouse 
 and help to set in order ; he is the only person really qualified to 
 do it. The poison consists in getting our natural dislike at all 
 lessened towards the Venus and Tannhauser story, and the repre- 
 sentation of our nature underlying it, whose meaning is a 
 thousand times more lowering to all that woman means in this 
 world than any told of Don Juan. For when that story had 
 done its worst, it had but expressed the dishonour of some one 
 woman. The Venus story disgraces the whole sex, and does it 
 through a woman. 
 
 And the most refined, surest, most weakening poison of all 
 consists in regarding such scenes as living pictures, where no 
 historical consequences of action appear, or rather no conse- 
 quences of any sort ; but where the events are a joke, and the 
 end a joke, and the whole a mere amusement, a cannibal feast, 
 where the actresses are crowned with roses. 
 
 There is not a drop of this poison in Ibsen’s poetry. This 
 should not be forgotten in reckoning up the essentials whenever 
 his title 4 Woman’s Poet ’ is in question, for there is no mistaking 
 its meaning in an author powerful as he is ; it cannot arise from 
 any want of power to choose or manage material. It means 
 neither more nor less than that Ibsen will not depict a woman 
 using power when this power is based on hampered development ; 
 he considers that idea has had its day, and must now be consigned 
 to the tomb, though in all his plays he allows for difference 
 of historical period, and for individual strength or weakness. 
 
 Ibsen’s women are generally beings with a power to accom- 
 plish an entire and distinct task in life, such women as, when 
 life at any time offers them a share in action, put their mark on 
 it, in the same way as women like them will when more sensible 
 manners shall prevail in the world, and earth’s face grow young 
 once more with springs of blessing that are now sealed up. 
 Even the wives who were not their husbands’ choice, and there- 
 fore never had anything of a real wife’s lot, even the disappointed 
 old maids or the spoilt girls, do their best in their distorted 
 position ; when a moment for action or liberty comes they show 
 that their heart is still in the right place, even though it be not 
 a wholly fresh, courageous heart. 
 
 And of the powerful women, who pioneer their own way, and 
 whose career is easier to follow, because it is more dramatic, it 
 may be said that their very crime does but show the obverse side 
 of the devotedness that could have made them thorough women. 
 
 The strength of Ibsen’s drawing of men’s character has never 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xi 
 
 been questioned ; men recognize past times and themselves through 
 them ; nor can these impressions ever be forgotten. But these 
 chiefly negative representations are not his most beautiful. His 
 most beautiful things are his positive pictures of womanhood, 
 and they only are (like Shakespeare’s) clearly marked and 
 completely carried out. The friendly hopeful light they shed 
 only strikes our eyes, perhaps, when thrown into a strong contrast 
 with the view man has hitherto held as to the position of the 
 sexes. The poet has cut his way right through the thorny wood 
 to the dwelling where womanliness is to be found. After that 
 it depends upon each man whether he will follow the path and 
 try to raise the newly-roused woman to full consciousness. 
 
 The end of the story of the sleeping wood Ibsen leaves to 
 the reader. How he has carried it out we know now, and how 
 his own way is to show woman respect by his poetry ; how 
 cautious, how intensely modest he is, how manly his honesty is, 
 how artistically chaste, how free from all sentimentality, all flowery 
 language, all patronizing approval. Ibsen’s method is not to get a 
 chorus, but to secure silence and transparent air round his object. 
 He waits, like a believer, rather to get to know something than get 
 to say something, when by one great poem after another he care- 
 fully opens the way to the fresh new forces in. humanity : Woman. 
 
 Ibsen considers that it is from man’s side that the greatest 
 hindrances come to the realization of marriage on earth — unity, 
 positive purity, complete oneness of life and work between man 
 and woman ; but that woman increases man’s difficulties in getting 
 into the right way, because she does not understand his temptations, 
 and has not learnt to cherish a noble respect for his fight. 
 
 Man has inherited more than woman has of the disordered 
 instincts that result from all false marriage in countless previous 
 generations. The physical and spiritual laws are yet unknown 
 which enable heredity to give this different stamp to the two 
 sexes, and thus a great difference in the difficulties of life’s 
 problems. How the matter actually stands is, on the contrary, 
 plain to every one, and also that even the womanly woman 
 will contribute to man’s fall while our present social ideas are in 
 force. She does it from want of courage. But the results of an 
 action may be equally great whether it was intentional or uncon- 
 scious. The momentary unconscious crime is often a result of 
 our not being developed enough to face the task we shrink from. 
 Whole hosts of such actions or omissions file through the world 
 in silent darkness ; and people who prefer that man should 
 be left in his undeveloped condition take pious comfort from 
 thinking that these evils arise without any blame to the person 
 who set them going. If only no one can be made personally 
 responsible as the cause, they think the evils can be borne with 
 meekness, and they accustom themselves to calling them ‘ natural ’ 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xii 
 
 evils. No small part of the poet’s task is to rouse men from this 
 opiate comfort. He does it not by denying the existence of 
 these evils, but by painting them in all their far-reaching conse- 
 quences, and making all men collectively responsible for them. 
 The poet, like the thinker, does not consider that it is a part of 
 the world’s scheme that it is out of evil good should arise, but 
 knows that it is we ourselves who futilize our common life, and 
 therefore he regards it as no crime to disturb us in our sleepy 
 or pious disregard of bad conditions and false views of life. He 
 sees that the struggle against evil is quite serious enough without 
 our refusing our support to good by retaining habits that uncon- 
 sciously and irresponsibly work evil. He believes, in short, that 
 the full development of all healthy forces can only lead to good. 
 
 The trivial social view against which Ibsen protests is, that for 
 two to become one and blessed is a mere dream, but that marriage 
 is something practical ; that while parents alone chose for their 
 children, marriage was on too narrow a basis, but that the happy 
 mean has been found now the approval of all relatives and friends 
 is sought. Against all such shallowness and cynicism Ibsen 
 protests that human passions cannot be controlled by locks or by 
 opiates, and that the only possible help is for passion and duty 
 to go the same way. 
 
 There are two ways of working for reform : the politician 
 waits and steers his course, the poet compromises nothing. To 
 illustrate these two ways let us take an example from the physical 
 world. 
 
 Human beauty is an exception, whereas it should be the rule. 
 People set to work to attack wrong clothing and food, bad habits 
 at home and at school. Doubtless all this is in the right direction, 
 and some are convinced. But one day, by accident, one of those 
 who have listened and assented opens a book of engravings from 
 Greek sculpture, and seeing perfect beauty, he learns more from 
 that single glance than from all the indirect working of sanitary 
 teaching. He has seen what beauty looks like. 
 
 The poet’s work gives a similar discovery of inner beauty or 
 moral life. Some of the clearest light Ibsen has so far shed on 
 marriage we get from Nora. The problem is set in its purest 
 form ; no unfavourable circumstances hinder the working out of 
 marriage ; nor does the temper of Nora or Helmer ; both are 
 well fitted for married life, and everything points to their being 
 naturally suited to each other. The hindrance lies exclusively 
 in the application of a false view of life, or — if some insist it once 
 contained truth — a view that Western peoples have out-lived. 
 When Helmer said he would work night and day for his wife, his 
 were no empty words. He had done it, he meant to do it ; he 
 had been faithfully working for eight years, and there is no sign 
 that he meant to cease. His happiness lay in Nora’s being 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xiii 
 
 unruffled. Nor would he dream of curtailing what he considers 
 her wife’s freedom, i. e. the happy play of her imagination. He 
 would deprive her but of one thing — reality. How could he 
 claim to be a “ real man,” he would say, if he gave it to her? 
 And he so far succeeds in unfitting her for action, that when she 
 takes upon herself to meddle in realities, she immediately 
 commits a crime. He gives her everything but his confidence ; 
 not because he has anything to conceal, but because she is a 
 woman. 
 
 Thousands who adhere to society’s usual view of a right life 
 between man and woman, express it by saying their home is 
 “like a doll’s house ” ; others, more serious, mean that they are 
 glad to see a woman cosy and comfortable in this hard world. 
 Some express disapproval by saying, “ Helmer went too far ; if 
 he had given Nora a cookery-book instead of a tambourine all 
 would have been well.” Others say, “If Nora had but had a 
 nice ordinary woman for her friend instead of that knitting book- 
 keeper, Mrs. Linden, all would have gone smoothly, even the 
 loan from Dr. Rank, which a little tact would have turned into 
 a charming concluding scene.” 
 
 The only reply to all these is to ask them to read Nora through 
 carefully once more, when they will see for themselves all the 
 conditions for a moral marriage laid down. They may be 
 summed up in the one word, Love. But at present Love is an idea 
 to which no clear meaning attaches. Love presumes youth as a 
 rule, but is not the same thing as youth, or even as youth with 
 warm and mutual liking into the bargain. Youth is a glorious 
 thing, but it has its own dangers, and the chief of them is self- 
 deception. It is only too easy for two young people to rock 
 themselves in dreams of bliss without real love, in which case all 
 relation between them is according to Western notions immoral, 
 a point to which marriage makes no difference whatever. Love 
 is confidence; and Mrs. Linden and Krogstad, shipwrecked folks 
 as they were, had better prospects of it in their union than Nora 
 and Helmer had, because they meant to live in future with mutual 
 understanding. For marriage is really a state of being awake to 
 life and activity ; at least nine-tenths of it is active ; and every 
 piece of activity either mate excludes the other from is a piece 
 of robbery from the marriage winnings or the mutual development 
 marriage is intended to bring about for both, and therefore for 
 humanity, quite apart from whether the activity itself fails or 
 succeeds. It will generally be found that those who dislike 
 Nora are those whose view of marriage the play utterly destroys ; 
 while those who like the play are those who, with Ibsen himself, 
 would rejoice with all their hearts to see that past ideal of 
 marriage crushed, against which every word in Nora quietly 
 strikes a certain death-blow. 
 
xiv LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 If you lose sight of the play’s great human interest you come 
 to petty considerations, such as whether Nora had a really large 
 nature and Helmer a stupid one, or that Ibsen means very little 
 in it after all, or as to the effect it is likely to have in making 
 foolish young people neglect their duties and turn from Chris- 
 tianity to Nihilism. 
 
 A poetical work reveals an idea, a truth that has a perfect 
 right to its place among the truths of the world ; a truth that is 
 so permanent and indestructible, that if the time has come for 
 that truth, it cannot be injured by neglect, or evaded or turned 
 aside, though he who attempts to injure it may thereby injure 
 and destroy himself. A perfect poem sets forth an idea perfectly. 
 Either Nora is not a poetical work, or at any rate not a perfect 
 one, or else by means of the idea it sets forth it is perfectly easy 
 to find our way into every corner of the play, and get a clearer 
 and deeper knowledge of it than would be possible from, e. g., an 
 historical essay. On the other hand, with anything less than this 
 idea it is impossible to do justice to the play as a whole, or to 
 any of its organic parts. 
 
 The idea in Nora is : the object of marriage is to make each 
 human personality free. However incontrovertible this may be 
 when laid down as an axiom, does that confer the power of giving 
 it expression in real life, steering one’s way among all the diffi- 
 culties of deceit, inexperience, etc. ? Doubtless not ; but the 
 poet’s work tells us, until the relation between man and woman 
 turns in this direction, the relation is not yet Love. This is the 
 idea in Nora , freed from all side issues, and no other key will 
 unlock it. 
 
 It is of course possible to find one’s way through schematic 
 plays, products of a weaker time than ours, without grasping the 
 main idea. But in our realistic art, when people speak the 
 language of their own passions and prejudices, we could never 
 reach the main idea through the various details, in so many ways 
 may an individual utterance be taken. The poet does not 
 create ideas, as a rule he can hardly be said to discover them ; 
 in most cases they have already become human property, as 
 it were, amongst a few of his most thoughtful and cultured 
 contemporaries. But it is the poet’s art that brings them to 
 light; he communicates them to millions. What is new seems 
 dumb while its spokesmen are the philosophers, statesmen, 
 priests, moralists, critics, sociologists, or publicists. It is as 
 though unsaid till the poet says it ; when he has spoken 
 humanity has spoken ; the thought is born on the lips of all, and 
 it is for the simple reason that he cannot give it complete utter- 
 ance until the hour has struck, and humanity has got so far that 
 the new thing is said from necessity. 
 
 Some people consider that Nora shows the exaggeration of 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xv 
 
 genius, and not the beautiful balanced revelation of a newly- 
 reached awakenedness in our moral conscience ; others admit that 
 the Oriental ideal of marriage must be given up, but ask why Nora 
 ends with a breaking off, and not a warning? Nora’s own words 
 to Helmer give the answer ; but she speaks so like and so unlike 
 the old morally unconscious being whose development we have 
 been following step by step, that we are unwilling to recognize her 
 words in their full meaning. Perhaps it could be philosophically 
 demonstrated that to say this does her great injustice, the same 
 injustice that she complains her father and husband did her : no 
 one will ever begin to treat her as a human being, no one shows 
 honourable and real respect for her own responsibility, and she 
 has the same right to it as a man has. Perhaps all this could be 
 proved, but feeling is only convinced by feeling or by reality. 
 
 Let us then construct another ending to Nora. Let us suppose 
 that the doll’s house does not fall to pieces, but that Helmer 
 keeps his old delusion as to Nora’s being a weak creature. There 
 is no doubt that he would act exactly as he spoke ; he would 
 forgive her, and, since the time for education had begun, he 
 would be a most careful schoolmaster. Nora would take no 
 step without his help ; she would be just as much tied and bound 
 as before, with no will or conscience of her own. 
 
 He says, “I have power to become another man.” She 
 replies, “Yes, when your doll is taken from you.” She is 
 probably right ; but it is certain that unless it happens, this 
 loving husband, the faithful, and, as some would say, the 
 ‘morally’ loving man, will never change, never for a moment 
 come near guessing what morality in love really is : the effort 
 to make the beloved one free, awakened, responsible, true, pure- 
 hearted, noble, and strong, instead of enslaving and making the 
 beloved dependent, irresponsible, double, needing help, slavish- 
 minded, and clinging. Helmer, who has such an intense wish 
 to be a patron, and has such an artificially developed gift for 
 patronizing, must continue to believe he possesses at least one 
 being destined for liberty, conscientious life, and personality as 
 his private slave, who is favoured by partiality, and shielded 
 wisely, tenderly, and chivalrously. He will be sure to go on in 
 the belief that there is at least one fellow-creature who has no 
 will but his, even if outside home’s shelter he is often tried, as he 
 probably will be, by painful miscalculation in such matters ; e.g. 
 if the Bank staff were to be ungrateful for his fostering care of 
 them, and his humane attempt to absorb their personality in his 
 own. The “ doll,” the dream-creature to whom he gave Nora’s 
 shape, is not to be taken from him ; he is to be able to go on 
 hugging that untrue view of half- humanity to his broad breast 
 just as a child hugs its doll. He is to suffer much, because he is 
 an intelligent and sensitive man, but he is not to suffer in that 
 
XVI 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 way by having his eyes opened to what Nora is : Woman, or 
 the woman who should have been the angel of freedom to him. 
 
 But if this constructed ending to the play be rejected, surely a 
 happy one of some sort could be found ? A novelist’s mouth 
 must be watering to make Helmer lose his money, — e. g. by 
 Krogstad working him out of the Bank, — and then Nora is to 
 work for him and win his love. But we know that Nora has not 
 this sort of ascendancy in development, nor can have wilh the 
 education life has so far given her. Torvald’s illness did not 
 reveal them to each other, nor did eight years’ struggle with 
 poverty. Ibsen has intentionally barred that outlet for us. The 
 struggle would only set Nora’s energy in motion, till she found 
 it was praised like a good child’s task, but not with respect, 
 not with humanity’s charter of freedom — open, high-minded, 
 devoted trust. When she saw- that that “ miracle ” did not come 
 she would grow weary. And garlanded slavery under poverty’s 
 roof would be no better, but rather worse, than it was under the 
 roof of prosperity. 
 
 In all trials common to both Helmer would do his duty, 
 preserve his equilibrium, and remain just what he always was. 
 For he is a ‘ gentleman ’ ; let us give him full credit for that ; but 
 he is not a real man, and years would but mark this more clearly. 
 His principles would dry up into mere maxims, his'duty, honour, 
 taste, and judgment into routine, till he ended in being one of 
 those faultless persons whom no one would dream of exchanging 
 ideas with on any subject, great or small, but who, on the contrary, 
 are listened to by tacit understanding with a respectful smile 
 when they are so obliging as to communicate any view they 
 happen to hold. 
 
 Some are ready to agree, “We never were deeply imbued 
 with belief in Mr. Helmer’s ideality ; but why did Nora run 
 away in such haste? We cannot see that she gained anything, 
 poor creature, or, that her little children did by losing her motherly 
 care.” Let us see if we can justify the mistake with which they 
 thus charge Ibsen. Their words imply that the story of the 
 forgery, the agony of mind during Christmas week, the explan- 
 ation between husband and wife, were a mere accidental dis- 
 turbance, that in a week it would all be forgotten, as Helmer 
 says, and buried in a month or two. At first, no doubt, Nora 
 would be merrier and more docile than ever, and Helmer fonler 
 of his wife than even in the days when their home-life first began. 
 But as the weeks went by Nora would be neither her present 
 nor her former self. As the memory of the great day faded, a 
 nervousness would creep over her such as Helmer never dreamt of. 
 Either she would ask his opinion every other minute, evidently 
 to get rid of some secret restlessness, or, without asking it, she 
 would be found undertaking things that in the old days it would 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 XVII 
 
 never have occurred to her to attempt alone. And if Helmer did 
 not answer her questions she would cry, and if he quietly expressed 
 his surprise at his wife’s taking her own course, she would break 
 out into wounding assertions, always ending with the one that 
 decided him to despatch Krogstad’s dismissal : that he is petty. 
 
 Helmer would now begin to find it is high time to fulfil his 
 promise of leaving the stage of play, and devoting himself to 
 that of education. He adds that occupation to all his others in 
 an orderly way, and with the great power of getting through 
 work that we know him to possess. He would try first one 
 thing and then another. That Mrs. Krogstad is not the most 
 suitable companion for Nora would be his earliest discovery in 
 his work of reformation. Result : Nora sometimes really avoids 
 Christina, at others — as often as possible — contrives to meet her 
 without Torvald’s knowing it. She wants to tell her daily hopes 
 and troubles to the industrious, sympathetic woman who was her 
 friend in childhood, and all the time contrives to appear to her 
 husband as desiring no society but his. The attempt to be Will 
 and Conscience to another shows its usual results : deception, 
 hypocrisy, crooked ways, duplicity, loss of trust, absence of ease, 
 joy, and healthiness in daily intercourse, and a habit of covering 
 the abyss with artificial liveliness that seems to have taken root 
 very quickly. 
 
 Let us suppose, however, that Helmer makes himself into a 
 domestic school inspector of Nora’s ways with the children, and 
 points out that if she is to do her duty by them and have time 
 for him too, she must shop less and spend less time with her 
 dressmaker. Nora would try ; but some day or other in the 
 middle of one of his nursery inspections, questions would burst 
 from her lips such as, What is skill with children ? How much 
 ‘ self-control ’ and ‘ method ’ is to be expected from them without 
 sacrificing their individuality? and, What things ought one to 
 pretend not to see ? 
 
 Helmer wonders when his discoveries in this strange woman’s 
 nature will come to an end, and where she can have got this 
 new barrier from that hinders husband and wife from their 
 common work. 
 
 Such signs of self-guidance touch the most sensitive point in 
 his view of life, as they always have done. We can hear him 
 say, as he did once before, “ Now we’ll put an end to this once 
 and for all.” 
 
 He is not eager about it ; he wishes to spare her so far as 
 possible. He says little ; but what he does say so oppresses 
 Nora that she loses what little pleasure she ever took in the 
 development of Ivar, Bob, and Emmy. But when a person like 
 Nora once gets frightened there is an element of rebellion in it ; 
 feeling in the dark as she is after self-dependence, when she may 
 
 b 
 
xviii LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 not create something she must at least destroy. So at one time 
 she is cold and dull with the children, at another she spoils them, 
 and fills their heads with the idea they “ must not tell papa.” 
 The new dominion over her Conscience and Will has only led 
 her to fresh lies ; it has only dragged her deeper into the mud, 
 and this time it is the children’s turn to go with her and get 
 soiled. Thus Boredom will settle down on that home as on 
 thousands of other homes. But that was not the air that was 
 wafted towards us when the curtain first rose. The air was 
 restless perhaps, but one felt there were possibilities. 
 
 Is Helmer a bad man, then ; coarse, dilatory, or boisterous 
 and domineering at times? No, he is quoted everywhere as a 
 model husband, and not without reason. He is merely colour- 
 blind in one direction, educated into colour-blindness. 
 
 One thing is certain, that amid all this new order of things he 
 yearns for the lark and the squirrel, the careless gaiety of the 
 Nora that used to be, and that is sometimes now when she 
 makes an effort. Then it strikes him that it is unnatural to shut 
 up a young and beautiful woman ; so he takes her into society 
 to obliterate the past that perhaps preys on her mind, and to 
 “draw out the child in her nature.” For wise men think a 
 woman never grows, or that it is happier for her not to grow, 
 and that she can be stunted in her growth, as it used to be 
 thought puppies could by brandy. 
 
 A glance around us shows us many women arrested thus, many 
 rich young souls prevented from ever becoming real women. 
 It is a social murder whose results are most disastrous for human 
 destiny. It means that homes can get amiable hostesses without 
 husbands getting loving wives, or children loving mothers. Will 
 this succeed in Nora’s case? She is not a doll, but will Society’s 
 stupefying agencies make her into one — a model doll, a splendid 
 example of self-satisfied, undeveloped humanity, who will be 
 described as perfectly comme il faut ? 
 
 Readers who desire this say, “We cannot see into each others’ 
 hearts, and Nora’s inner life may be anything she pleases ; but 
 a well-bred woman should always seem at ease, and make it 
 possible for us to have dealings with her.” Nora will never 
 come up to their expectations. There is something untamed in 
 her that will make her sin continually against worldly rules. She 
 might dress as becomingly as any one, but there her likeness to 
 others would end. She does not belong to the class of women 
 whose two sections are the coquette and the prude, both being 
 the Doll grown to full stature. Such women are her only 
 enemies. They can lay aside conscience and ideality without 
 loss of charm, they can never be free nor make others free, never 
 love. They point in the opposite direction — to rule and be ruled ; 
 they use freedom’s means in the service of slavery. It is useless 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xix 
 
 to expect this of Nora. Her power of freedom, her need to love 
 and live really are too strong to allow it, and will lead her to 
 break up life again and again if Helmer continues unawakened 
 from his idea that conscience, will, personality, development, 
 human dignity are notions that concern man only, and this not 
 for himself alone, but for woman as represented by him. 
 
 The associates Helmer would summon to help him in drawing 
 out Nora by society would find their pupil too hard to manage, 
 too individual, too inscrutable for them. She would win no 
 friends among women of the world. And although she is one 
 of those to whom men feel drawn, she will never secure one 
 thorough friend among them. She does not wish to, since she 
 found out Dr. Rank thought she had been making advances to 
 him. She will behave in a strikingly unsuitable manner in 
 society ; either too full of herself or too indifferent. In either 
 case she will wound Helmer’s fine sense of what is fitting. 
 Sometimes she will show unrestrained feeling, as she did in the 
 Tarantella, because she is secretly worried about something ; at 
 another she will take no interest in what is going on around her. 
 And if anybody in society turns specially to her as though to 
 draw a little nearer to her real self, nothing will be got out of 
 her except some utterly unsuitable answer ; an answer to the 
 thing instead of an answer that conveys an agreeable recognition 
 of the questioner’s polite attention. 
 
 So Nora will get no recompense in society for her losses 
 at home — her husband’s growing precision, or the children’s 
 mixture of affection and disrespect, when at one time she is able 
 behind their father’s back to give them what they want, and at 
 another cannot do what she promised them. 
 
 A few glimpses of happiness for Nora, and a sort of sad rest 
 for Helmer, may, however, come into their ruined home ; not 
 when the family is alone, for then the tension is only too plain, 
 but when they give small parties, and the hostess is able to lay 
 down her own rules for etiquette, and charms herself into a 
 fancied self-guidance and liberty for a few hours. Young people 
 will feel particularly happy on these occasions, and Nora will 
 flash out for a few moments and seem young again. When all 
 this is over, Torvald, who is still in love with her, will spend 
 long hours in painfully pondering what it is that he has done, 
 that his young, happy, warm world has been cut away from 
 under him, that he, though he has continued master in his own 
 home, really has no home now ? 
 
 Need we follow them further? — into the critical years when the 
 absence of ideality has made them grotesque, when young people 
 laugh in Helmer’s face at his way of playing le pere noble ; 
 when Nora is middle-aged, and some chance opening of the box 
 where a pair of silk stockings has lain “ever since that night” 
 
 b 2 
 
XX 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 tempts from mamma’s lips a neat little description of her 
 triumphs at the costume ball, ending with the remark that Emmy 
 has her mother’s foot and ankle, but she “must not think of 
 putting on that charming dress and dancing with the tambourine, 
 poor little Emmy ! or let out that she has even seen them ; papa 
 can’t bear such things, you know.” 
 
 Such then is what in the most favourable circumstances a 
 mere ‘warning’ must have brought Nora and Helmer to, being 
 what they were by nature and education. We should see 
 Nora selfish, but with the selfishness that is more or less in 
 every natural woman’s heart, which unchecked and suppressed 
 destroys either her whole woman’s personality or the happiness 
 and honour of all around her, but raised to the moral plane of 
 freedom would, on the contrary, have saved both. And we should 
 see Helmer selfish, in a certain sense more so than Nora ; but 
 selfish with the egoism of his sex, with satisfaction that he is a 
 man, and not a woman, rather than with any very exaggerated 
 individual egoism. He is typical of the class of men on whom 
 the punishment falls most heavily of women not getting a true 
 human education, but being brought up to self-deception instead, 
 and it is rather the punishment of his whole sex that he bears 
 than any tragic fate of his own in bearing the consequences of 
 not having promoted his wife’s human development. 
 
 Let us now see what prospect there is of reconciliation be- 
 tween the Adam and Eve whom Ibsen drives out of their 
 Paradise into the world of consciousness. Everything in the 
 play strengthens our perception of the bare truth that these two 
 people have by their life together brought matters to such a pass, 
 that before anything good can come to them, Helmer must try 
 to come to himself, and Nora to herself. And at the last moment 
 there seems a prospect that they will achieve it some day. And 
 earthly life offers no truer ground for reconciliation than this, if 
 we believe development to be the end of our existence. Every 
 right-thinking person must feel compelled to admit that Nora’s 
 fight for existence as it faces her in all its cruelty deserves our 
 love a thousand times more than any return to the doll’s house 
 conditions of ruining herself, her husband, and her children ; but 
 this by no means prevents his feeling painfully affected by the 
 idea of Helmer’ s petted wife, Ivar’s, Bob’s, and Emmy’s merry 
 little mother, going away and shutting the door between herself 
 and them. It is the only violent action in the last scene, and it 
 makes us feel all the indescribable pain that must weigh on that 
 undeveloped, newly-roused being on the threshold between her 
 past and her future. 
 
 What is the outlook for him who is left behind on the stage, 
 between his certainty of crushed happiness and the hope of 
 higher things arising ? He thought himself so pure-hearted and 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 xxi 
 
 justifiable in everything ; he finds he only possessed a favourite 
 slave. Is it only mechanically that he repeats her words* “the 
 greatest miracle,” or does a new hope arise within him? The 
 poet bids us think he has some new hope. Is it that Nora will 
 repent and return? Her last words are too clear; she expects 
 a radical change in him. Through all the mist of his senses 
 and prejudices has he not caught a glimpse of the real Nora, the 
 higher Eros, whom Socrates calls the oldest of all the gods, and, 
 bowed to the earth with blushes, yet thankful he has learnt to 
 blush, does he not say to himself, “A woman too is intended 
 to be a human being”? Then he asks, “ Am I a human being? 
 Have I not made a slave of her who might have helped me to 
 freedom ? ” 
 
 How near to freedom he is no one can determine, not even 
 the poet himself, because the path to freedom is one that cannot 
 be marked out beforehand. But everything in the play indicates 
 that he will attain it. And if he does, it will be no small matter 
 that in everything but what concerned Nora he was an honest 
 man. 
 
 Since the idea in Nora is plain to all, we will now inquire 
 what means Ibsen selected from every-day life to make his 
 meaning clear. The kernel of every home is its womanly 
 principle, and the kernel of Ibsen’s play is Nora’s character. 
 He means to make a modern home go to pieces before our very 
 eyes from some necessity within itself. It must contain every- 
 thing that can attract : simplicity, gladness, power of work, good 
 temper, gentle and strong regard, love of beauty, merry little 
 children, friends, well-managed servants, good habits, good 
 reputation, a position that has at length been won by praise- 
 worthy endeavours, etc. ; but also a husband who has such an 
 essentially false idea of happiness between man and woman, that 
 it has practically undermined this delightful home, and it is ready 
 to fall in at any moment. 
 
 The husband, too, is such a pleasant man that his Oriental 
 view of woman is ennobled, so far as a view can be that 
 is so inhuman and wounding to us. His belief, not that humanity 
 is creation’s king, but that man is, comes out in a kind, quiet 
 way ; if ever otherwise, he soon recovers his Oriental manly 
 dignity, as though to say : I forgot myself. I judged her as 
 though she were a human being. In my haste I overlooked the 
 fact of her being only a woman. But it shall not happen twice. 
 Henceforth I will abide faithful and true to my principle that I, 
 and I only, bear the burden and responsibility for us both. 
 
 If these presumptions are sufficiently unmistakable at every 
 turn in the play, the spectator knows from the very beginning 
 that some of the indispensable conditions for healthy develop- 
 
XXII 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 ment are wanting, and that the breaking up of the doll’s house 
 is only a question of time. 
 
 But it might have lasted a lifetime, as so many false marriages 
 do, and in that case it would not have been a suitable subject 
 for a play. The dramatist did not need for his object a strong 
 character, such as could have set the wrong right, and kept the 
 home together ; or a ‘ passive ’ woman, whose will is dead ; or 
 one with ‘ a broken heart ’ ; or a superficial person, who ends 
 in being satisfied with trifles ; or one who suffers, and weeps, and 
 sighs ; or one of those who combine any of these characters with 
 that of a prude or a coquette. Any one of these women would 
 have delayed the climax, so as to destroy dramatic possibilities ; 
 nor would a large and highly religious womanly figure have 
 been suitable ; still less would one already exhausted by homage 
 to propriety and custom. 
 
 Ibsen needed a young creature, loving but undisciplined ; full 
 of life, but lacking all principle in thought and action ; blind 
 to all but what is nearest at hand, but ready to love with her 
 whole strength, that is, to devote all her happiness to what is 
 nearest her ; otherwise, cruel with indifferent carelessness, but 
 only because no notion of the rights of others, of ‘strangers/ 
 has ever been presented to her ; capable as a child of nature is of 
 stealing on behalf of her own dear ones, but not capable as an 
 artificialized nature is of stealing from them in order to gratify her 
 private vanity before strangers with what she has thus stolen ; 
 gentle to those nearest her, but not to others or to herself ; 
 an uneducated girl who never had a mother ; one who as a 
 daughter and a growing girl had to get what poor little exchange 
 of thought she could in the maids’ room ; a wife who is obliged 
 to choose as her confidential friend her husband’s friend, and not 
 her husband himself ; a beautiful, attractive young woman, who 
 feels she is independent, placed in the high position of head of 
 a house, but who, none the less, has come to tricking her 
 husband by lie after lie in daily life, half-consciously longing, 
 and waiting outside in the darkness, for some change that is to 
 come suddenly, “the miracle,” she does not exactly know what, 
 but its effect is to be that the activity of her soul and her hus- 
 band’s are no longer to be allowed to go different ways ; that 
 what she tries, what she accomplishes, what she sacrifices, is to 
 be reckoned as human like his. The poet must find all these 
 elements like mines ready laid in the woman’s character, upon 
 which the existence of the home is based. No one of them must 
 fail him when the match is put to the train if the doll’s house 
 is to be blown to unrecognizable pieces before our eyes. 
 
 Nora is precisely all this. The poet has now what he wants ; 
 it is as in real life : the persons of the action have no notion 
 what they are about until the moment of parting. 
 
LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. xxiii 
 
 When all is falling to pieces, and not a moment sooner, they 
 see by a sudden flash how they have been gradually bringing their 
 fate on themselves, so that it destroys all the edifice of their 
 past life : the man by not having considered the woman’s 
 personality ; the woman by the man having loved a person who 
 does not exist, an illusion the more unfortunate in her case, as 
 it turned her best deeds into faults. 
 
 It has been alleged that Nora is not the same person in her 
 concluding scene with Helmer as she is throughout the play. 
 So far as her understanding goes, she is just the same. Her one 
 reproach to Helmer at the end is that he did not take the blame 
 on himself, and her calm at the end is so touching because the 
 spectator knows what Helmer neither knows nor believes, that 
 she was really ready to die to save him from the necessity of 
 taking the blame on himself. For she means it in perfect good 
 faith ; in a few minutes she will jump into “the cold, black water,” 
 which does not, however, prevent her, with her childish optimism, 
 her habit of succeeding, and her power of telling herself tales (such 
 as of the old gentleman who was to leave her his property), having 
 some hope that the water might not be cold, or not drown her, or 
 might change her into some new being, whom no anxiety could 
 threaten. For even in this last and most honest resolve to die she 
 is not acting as one fully awake, responsible, and conscious. She 
 is all this for the first time at the moment she breaks away from 
 Helmer and goes. But it is the old Nora, only it is Nora on 
 her most serious side ; it is the young and inexperienced woman 
 who, after Helmer’s proper little speech gives her the experience 
 that puts an end to her youth, cannot help telling him how 
 boundlessly she once believed in him. 
 
 The same objection is urged by those who say that she utters 
 a number of incontestable truths, or, as her enemies describe it, 
 “makes a speech” at the end and “preaches the doctrine of 
 the future.” This, were it true, would prove her to be another 
 Nora. But she really speaks as she always has spoken, without 
 any calculation whatever. It is but the outburst of human nature’s 
 own consciousness of itself, but it has been so very recently 
 awakened in her. It first awoke in her at the moment when she 
 finally discovered the thing whose pain wrung from her .... 
 “It became clear to me that I had been living here all these 
 years with a strange man, and had borne him three children. 
 Oh ! I cannot bear to think of it ! I could tear myself in pieces ! ” 
 
 Till then she had never guessed that her husband’s Oriental 
 view of life’s task as adjusted to the two sexes had been a 
 serious one, which had reduced her to a mere Thing, day after 
 day — the dearest thing in all the world, but not a human being, 
 not his peer. The moment she not only guessed this, but knew 
 it with the most deadly cold certainty, every spark of womanly 
 
XUV 
 
 LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. 
 
 instinct told her in that second all that can ever be taught or 
 known about it. 
 
 Nora herself is the Chorus to all the previous action through 
 the general truths she finally utters, but it is precisely because 
 she only gets to know them at the very moment she utters them. 
 It is just on such occasions as this that people do speak, unless 
 feeling chokes their words. 
 
 Nora’s being able to speak harmonizes with her whole self. 
 Helmer has always been mistaken in his notion that she was 
 ‘ weak ’ ; it was part of his false theory of a wife. She is 
 rather strong than not, as appears in all her doings. And if 
 women in general come to act more, the same thing will cause 
 surprise in countless cases. Weakness is most often nothing but 
 destroyed power of thinking and doing. It is because her 
 character is so capable of strong devotion that she can go away 
 when she finds she would do harm by staying, and can speak out 
 all the hard new truths, feeling as she does that she is no more 
 fit to stay and educate him into them than he is to educate her. 
 
 But people shoot beside the mark, too, when they will not see 
 the subject of Nora as one of universal human application, 
 when they think that Ibsen wanted to make Helmer hateful. 
 What Ibsen wanted to make hateful, and what he has made 
 hateful, is Helmer’s false view of half humanity — a view that 
 still is the view of life that most men hold, and that makes it 
 possible for a man to be every inch a gentleman without being 
 for that reason a human being ; to believe he loves a woman, 
 and at the same time think he can be Will and Conscience for 
 her ; that makes it possible for a woman to call these habits 
 of thought in men Chivalry, and exercise every quality of her 
 inner and outward being only to secure the small triumphs of 
 an odalisk, while at the same time she believes herself a pure- 
 hearted woman, believes that she loves, believes that she really 
 lives. 
 
 It is this social pest, this expression of what is unnatural, that 
 Ibsen hates. For it is unnatural, standing as it does side by 
 side with such a highly-developed notion of individuality as that 
 now current in society. And Ibsen hates this not because he 
 delights to hate, but because, as a poet, he loves individuality 
 with all his heart, and womanly individuality above all, as the 
 friendly, dawning promise for all our retarded human develop- 
 ment, as the most promising side in the gospel of Man, as the 
 daylight side of the future. 
 
 Frances Lord. 
 
 176, Lambeth Road , London , 
 
 November, 1882. 
 
NORA 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 A room comfortably and tastefully , but not 
 expensively , furnished. 
 
 ( To the right a door leads to the Hall ; to the left another 
 door in the background to HelmePs study. Between 
 the two doors a pianoforte. 
 
 In the middle of the left wall a door , and somewhat 
 nearer the front a window. Near the window a round 
 table with an arm-chair and a small sofa. In the right 
 wall , somewhat to the back , a door. In the same wall , 
 more forward , a stove of porcelain , by it a couple 
 of arm-chairs and a rocking-chair. Between the 
 stove and the side door a small table. Engravings on 
 the walls. An etagere with chma and small curiosities . 
 A small book-case of showily-bound books. Carpel. 
 A fire burns in the stove. It is winter . ) 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Nora. A Porter. Ellen. Then H elmer. The bell 
 rings in the hall outside. Presently the hall door is heard 
 opened. Nora walks into the rooin humming content- 
 edly. She is in walking dress , and has several parcels 
 in her arms , which she lays on the right-hand table. 
 She leaves the door into the hall open behind her. a?td 
 a Porter is seen standing outside, carrying a Christmas 
 tree and a basket; he gives these to the maid-servant 
 who opened the door. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Be sure you hide the Christmas tree most carefully, 
 Ellen ; so that the children don’t on any account catch 
 sight of it before this evening, when it is dressed and lit. 
 LTo the Porter, taking out her purse. ) How much ? 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Porter. 
 
 Sixpence, if you please, ma’am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 There is a shilling ... No, keep the change. 
 
 ( The Porter thanks her and goes. Nora shuts the 
 door. She continues smiling with quiet contentment as 
 she takes off her walking things. Then she takes from 
 her pocket a box of sweetmeats , and eats soine. As she 
 does so, she steps cautiously to her husband's door and 
 listens.') Yes ; he is home. (She begins humming again, 
 walking to the right-hand table.) 
 
 H ELMER (in his rooiri). 
 
 Is that my lark who is twittering outside there ? 
 
 Nora ( busy opening some of her parcels). 
 
 Yes, it is. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Is it the little squirrel running about ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 When did it get home ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Just this minute. ( Hides the box of sweetmeats in her 
 pocket and wipes her mouth.) Come in here, Torvald, 
 and see what I have bought. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I can’t be interrupted now. ( A little later he opens the 
 door and looks in, pen in hand.) ‘Bought/ did you say? 
 What ! all that heap of things ? Has my little spendthrift 
 bird been wasting more money ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But, Torvald, we really can waste a little now. It is 
 positively the first Christmas we aren’t obliged to pinch. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes ; but I’ll tell you what : We mustn’t waste money 
 either,. 
 
NORA. 
 
 3 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Still, Torvald, we may venture to spend a little al- 
 ready, mayn’t we? just a very, very little. You have 
 really got a capital position, and you’ll be earning ever 
 so much money. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Yes, from New Year’s Day. But there is a whole 
 quarter before my next salary is due. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Never mind ; we can borrow for that little time. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Nora ! (He steps towards her and takes her playfully by 
 the ear.) Is your heedlessness running away with you 
 again ? Supposing that I borrowed fifty pounds to-day, 
 and you spent it during Christmas week, and that on 
 New Year’s Day a tile blew off the roof and struck my 
 head, and I were . . . 
 
 Nora {stopping his mouth). 
 
 Stuff ! How can you say such horrid things ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But, supposing anything of the kind were to happen. 
 What then ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If such a misfortune were to happen, I should not care 
 whether I had debts or whether I hadn’t. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But what about the people I had borrowed from ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Those people ! Who would trouble about them ? They 
 would be strangers, of course. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, Nora ! you are a mere baby. But seriously, 
 dear child, you know my way of thinking about such 
 matters. No debts ! Never borrow ! Home life ceases 
 to be free and beautiful directly its foundations are Borrow- 
 ing and Debts. We two have held out bravely till now, 
 and we will do so for the little time now remaining. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 NOHA. 
 
 Nora (going io the fireplace). 
 
 Ye — s. Just as you like, Torvald. 
 
 H ELMER (following her). 
 
 Come, come ; my lark must not let her wings droop 
 immediately . . . What ! wry faces? (takes out his purse). 
 Nora, what do you think I’ve got here? 
 
 Nora (turning round quickly ). 
 
 Money ! 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 There (gives her some notes). By Jove ! don’t I know 
 that all sorts of things are wanted at Christmas ? 
 
 Nora (counting) . 
 
 Ten, twenty, thirty, forty. Oh ! thank you, thank you, 
 Torvald. This will help me on for a long while to come. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 That is just what I hope. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, indeed ; for a long while. But now you must 
 come too, and see all I have been buying. And so 
 cheap ! Look, here is a new suit for Ivar, and a little 
 sword as well. Here are a little horse and a trumpet for 
 Bob. And here are a doll and a cradle for Emmy. They 
 are only common ; but she will soon pull them all to 
 pieces. And here I’ve got dresses and neckties for Ellen 
 and Mary Ann. Only I ought to have got something 
 better for Mary Ann. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And what is that in the other parcel ? 
 
 Nora (crying out). 
 
 No, Torvald, you’re not to see that before this evening. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh ! ah. But now tell me, you little spendthrift, what 
 you have got for yourself. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Never mind me. I don’t want anything for myself. 
 
NORA. 
 
 5 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But I am sure you do. Just tell me something sensible 
 you would like to have. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No; I really know of nothing . . . Yes ; listen, Torvald. 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well ? 
 
 Nora (■ playing with his coat buttons , without looking 
 him in the face). 
 
 If you want to give me something, you might, you 
 know, you might . . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, well ? Out with it ! 
 
 Nora {quickly). 
 
 You might give me the money, Torvald. Only just as 
 much as you think you can spare ; then I will buy myself 
 something with it later on. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But, Nora — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, please do, dear Torvald, I beg and implore you. 
 Then I would hang the money in lovely gilt paper on the 
 Christmas tree. Wouldn't that be funny? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What do people call the bird who always spends every- 
 thing ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I know : a spendthrift, of course. But please do 
 what I ask you, Torvald. Then I shall have time to think 
 what I most want. Is not that very sensible? Come ! 
 
 Helmer {smiling). 
 
 Certainly ; that is to say, it would be if you really kept 
 the money I gave you, and really bought yourself some- 
 thing with it. But it all goes in housekeeping, and for all 
 sorts of useless things, and then I have to find more. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But, Torvald . . . 
 
6 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Can you deny it, Nora dear? {He puts his arm round 
 her.) My lark is the dearest little thing in the world; 
 but she needs a very great deal of money. No one would 
 believe how expensive it comes to keep such a little bird. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Rubbish ! how can you talk so ? I am sure I am as 
 careful as I can be. 
 
 Helmer ( smiling ). 
 
 Very true, — as careful as you can be. But you can’t be 
 careful at all. 
 
 Nora (hums and smiles in quiet satisfaction). 
 
 Hm — m. You should just know, Torvald, what expenses 
 larks and squirrels have. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What an odd little woman you are ! Just like your father 
 — always eager to get hold of money. But the moment you 
 have it, it seems to slip through your fingers somehow ; 
 you never know how you got rid of it. Well, one must 
 take you as you are. It’s in the blood. Yes, my dear 
 Nora, you may say what you please, but things of that 
 sort are inheritable. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Ah ! there are many things I wish I had inherited from 
 father. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And I couldn’t wish you to be anything but exactly 
 what you are — my own, true, little lark. But ... I say 
 ... it strikes me . . . you look so, so — what shall I call 
 it ? — to-day ... so suspicious. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do I? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes, really. Look me full in the face. 
 
 Nora ( looking at him ) . 
 
 Well? 
 
 Helmer (threatening with his finger ). 
 
 Hasn’t that little mouth, that is so fond of sugar-plums, 
 been eating some in the town? 
 
NORA. 
 
 7 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Gracious ! no. How can you think anything of the kind 
 about me ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 * Didn’t the little mouth just look in at the confectioner’s ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, I assure you, Torvald. . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not to taste one dainty dish ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; most certainly not. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not so much as to try a few sweetmeats ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, Torvald, I really do assure you. . . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, well, well ; of course I’m only joking. 
 
 Nora {goes to the right-hand table'). 
 
 I should not think of doing what you disapprove of. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I know, dear ; and you have given me your word {steps 
 to her). No; keep your little Christmas secrets all to 
 yourself, Nora, dear. They will come to light this very 
 evening, when the Christmas tree is lit. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Have you also thought to invite Doctor Rank ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No. But that is not necessary; it is an understood 
 thing that he dines with us. Besides, I shall tell him when 
 he looks in to-day. I have ordered some capital wine. 
 Nora, you cannot think how I look forward to this evening ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 So do I. And how the children will shout for joy, 
 Torvald ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh ! it really is glorious to know that one has made 
 one’s position, and has ample means. Isn’t the conscious- 
 ness of it a great enjoyment? 
 
NOHA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I should think it is, indeed. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Do you recollect last Christmas ? Three whole weeks 
 beforehand you used to shut yourself up till long past 
 midnight in order to make flowers to trim the Christmas 
 tree, and get ready all the other magnificent things to sur- 
 prise us with. It was the most wearisome time I ever lived 
 through. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It did not weary me at all. 
 
 Helmer {smiling). 
 
 We did not see much for your pains. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh! will you never leave off teasing me about that f 
 How could I help it if the cat did get in and tear 
 everything I had made to pieces ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 To be sure, you couldn’t help it, my poor little Nora. 
 You set to work to prepare us a treat with the best will in 
 the world, and that is the chief matter. . . . But, never- 
 theless, it is a good thing that hard times are over. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It is, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Now I needn’t sit here all by myself, getting more 
 bored every minute ; and you needn’t tire your eyes and 
 your delicate little fingers. . . . 
 
 Nora ( clapping her hands). 
 
 It is really true, isn’t it, Torvald, that I needn’t do it 
 any more ? Oh ! how splendid ! ( takes his arm). And 
 now I will tell you, darling, how it has been striking me 
 we ought to arrange matters. . . . Directly Christmas is 
 over ( the hall door-bell rings). . . Oh, there’s a ring ! ( she 
 advances part way across the room). That is somebody 
 come to call. How vexing ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I am ‘not at home’ to callers. Don’t forget that. 
 
NORA. 
 
 9 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The Preceding. Ellen. 
 
 Ellen (in the doorway to Nora). 
 
 A strange lady wishes to see you, ma’am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Show her in. 
 
 Ellen (to H elmer). 
 
 And the Doctor is just come, sir. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Has he gone into my study ? 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Yes, sir (H elmer goes into his study. Ellen brings in 
 Mrs. Linden , in travelling costume , and shuts the door 
 behind her). 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Nora. Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Mrs. Linden (timidly and slowly ). 
 
 How do you do, Nora? 
 
 Nora (uncertain who she is). 
 
 How do you do ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I dare say you do not know me again. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, I really. . . oh, yes — I think ( breaking forth). 
 What ! Christina ! Is it really you ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; it is I indeed. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Christina ! and to think I did not recognise you ! How 
 could I not. . . ( More softly.) How altered you are, 
 Christina ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes; in nine. . . ten long years. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Is it really so long since we met ? Yes, it positively is. 
 Oh ! the last eight years have been a happy time, I can 
 
IO 
 
 NORA. 
 
 tell you. And now you have come to town ? all this long 
 journey in mid-winter ! That was brave of you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I have this moment arrived by the train. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 In order to have some fun at Christmas time, to be sure. 
 Oh, how delightful that is ! Yes, fun we certainly will 
 have. But take your things off. Aren’t you frozen ? 
 ( helps her to take her things off). There ! now we will sit 
 down here cosily by the fire. No ; in that arm-chair ; I 
 will sit here in the rocking chair. Yes, now you are showing 
 me your dear old face again. It was only the first moment 
 I saw you. . . . But you are a little paler, Christina, and 
 perhaps a shade thinner, too. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And much, much older, N ora. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, perhaps a little older, too — a little wee bit, not 
 much. ( She suddenly stops ; seriously .) Oh ! what a 
 thoughtless creature I am ! Here I sit chattering on, and 
 — Dear, good Christina, can you forgive me ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What do you mean, Nora? 
 
 Nora {softly). 
 
 Poor Christina ! is it true you are a widow ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; three years ago. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Ah ! I was sure of it. I read it in the newspaper, you 
 know. Oh, do believe, Christina dear, I often meant to 
 write to you then ; but I kept putting it off, and something 
 always hindered me. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I can very well understand that, Nora dear. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, Christina; it was dreadful of me. Oh, you poor 
 darling ! how much you must have gone through. . . And 
 he really left you nothing in the world to live upon ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 II 
 
 No. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 Nora. 
 
 And no children either ? 
 
 No. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 Nora. 
 
 Then really nothing whatever ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 N ot even a sorrow or a regret . 
 
 Nora ( looking at her incredulously). 
 
 But, my dear Christina, how is that possible ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden (smiling sadly a7td stroking her hair). 
 
 Oh, it happens so sometimes, Nora. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 So utterly lonely. . . How awfully hard that must be 
 for you ! I have three of the dearest children ever that 
 were. But I can’t show them to you just now; they are 
 out walking with nurse. However, now you must tell me 
 your whole story. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 N o, no, I would rather hear yours. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; you must begin ; I won’t be egotistical to-day. To- 
 day I will think of you only. But one thing I really must 
 tell you. Or do you know already what great happiness 
 has fallen to our lot in the last few days ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 No. What is it? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Only think ! My husband has been made Manager of 
 the Joint Stock Bank. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Your husband ! Oh, that is really a great piece of luck. 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; tremendous, isn’t it ? A professional man’s position 
 is so uncertain, especially when he will not be concerned 
 in any business except what is fit for a gentleman and 
 
12 
 
 NOE, A. 
 
 respectable. And naturally Torvald would not do any 
 other business ; and in that matter I quite agreed with 
 him. Oh ! you may well believe how heartily glad we are. 
 He will enter his new position on New Year’s Day, and 
 then he will have a large saliry, and high percentages on 
 the business done. In future we shall be able to live in a 
 very different style from the way we have lived hitherto — 
 just as we please, in fact. Oh, Christina, I feel so light and 
 happy. . . it really is beautiful, isn’t it, to have a great deal 
 of money, and be able to live without anxiety. Now isn’t it? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; it cannot but be delightful to have bare neces- 
 saries. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, not only bare neessaries, but a great deal of money — 
 heaps ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden (. smiling ). 
 
 Nora, Nora, haven’t you grown sensible yet? In our 
 school days you were a great spendthrift. 
 
 Nora {quietly smiling). 
 
 Yes; Torvald says I am so still {threatens with her finger). 
 But ‘Nora, Nora,’ is not so silly as you all think. Oh ! 
 our circumstances have really not been such that I could 
 be a spendthrift. We both had to work. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You as well ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, really — light fancy work : knitting, crochet, and 
 things of that sort ( vaguely ), and also other work. I 
 suppose you know that when we married Torvald quitted 
 the Government service? He had no prospect of being 
 promoted, and yet he certainly had to earn more money 
 than before. But I do assure you that the first year he 
 over-worked himself quite terribly. You can easily under- 
 stand that he was naturally obliged to get all the extra 
 work he could and toil from morning till night. It was too 
 much for him, and he fell dangerously ill. Then the doctors 
 declared it was necessary for him to goto the South. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; you spent a whole year in Italy, didn’t you ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 13 
 
 Nora. 
 
 We did. It was not an easy matter to arrange, I can 
 assure you. Ivar was only just born then. But we had 
 to go. Oh, it was a delicious journey ! And it saved 
 Torvald’s life. But it cost an awful sum of money, Christina. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You needn’t tell me that, dear. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Three hundred pounds. That’s a great deal, isn’t it ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But in such cases it is, after all, a most fortunate thing 
 to have the money to spend. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; I ought to tell you I got it from father. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Ah ; I see. It was just about the time he died, I 
 think ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, Christina, just then. And think what it was for 
 me not to be able to go to him and nurse him ! I was 
 expecting little Ivars birth daily. And then I had my 
 Torvald to nurse, who was dangerously ill too. Dear good 
 father ! I never saw him again, Christina. Ch ! that is 
 the hardest thing I have had to bear since I married. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I know you were devotedly fond of your father. And 
 then you and your husband started for Italy ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; a month later. By that time we had the money ; 
 and the doctors were so peremptory. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And your husband returned completely cured? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Sound as a bell. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But — the Doctor ? 
 
 What about him ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
14 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I thought your servant said that the gentleman who 
 came in just when I did was the Doctor. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, it was Doctor Rank. But he does not pay any 
 professional visits here. He is our best friend, and comes 
 in to chat with us at least once every day. No, Torvald 
 has not had an hour’s illness since we went to Italy. And 
 the children, too, are so healthy and well, and so am I. 
 (Jumps up and claps her hands.') Oh, dear! oh, dear! 
 Christina, it is indeed delicious to live and be happy ! — 
 Oh, but it is really horrible of me ! I am talking about 
 nothing but my own concerns (sits down upon a footstool 
 close to her and lays her arms on Christina s knee). Oh ! 
 don’t be angry with me for it. Now just tell me, is it 
 really true that you couldn’t endure your husband? Why 
 ever did you marry him, then ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 My . mother was living at that time, and she was ill and 
 helpless ; and then I had my two younger brothers to 
 provide for. I considered it my duty to accept him. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, yes. I dare say you were right there. Then he 
 was rich in those days ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Very well off indeed, I believe. But his business was 
 not sound, Nora. When he died it all fell to pieces, and 
 there was nothing left. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And then ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Then I had to try to make my way by keeping a small 
 shop, a little school, and anything else I could get. The 
 last three years have been for me one long working-day, 
 without a moment’s rest. But now it is over, Nora dear. 
 My poor mother no longer needs me: she is at rest in 
 her grave. Nor do the boys need me: they are in busi- 
 ness, and can provide for themselves. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How relieved you must feel ! 
 
NORA. 
 
 15 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 No, Nora : only inexpressibly empty. To have nobody 
 you can devote your life to ! ( stands up restless). That is 
 why I could not bear to stay any longer in that out-of-the- 
 way little town. It must be easier to find something here 
 that really has a claim upon one and occupies one’s 
 thoughts. If I could but be so fortunate as to get a 
 fixed post — some office-work. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But, Christina, that is so terribly tiring, and you look 
 so overdone already. It would be far better for you if you 
 could go to some cheerful watering-place for a while. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {going to the window). 
 
 I have no father who could give me the money to go, Nora. 
 
 Nora {rising). 
 
 Oh ! don’t be vexed with me. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {going towards her). 
 
 No, it is rather I who must beg your indulgence, Nora 
 dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes 
 one bitter. One has nobody to work for, and yet one is 
 obliged to be always slaving and scraping together. Be- 
 sides, one must live, and so one gets selfish. When you 
 told me of the happy change in your circumstances, — 
 you’ll hardly believe it ; — but I rejoiced more on my own 
 account than on yours. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How do you mean? Ah! I see. You mean Tor vald 
 could do something for you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; I thought so. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And he shall, too, Christina dear. Just leave that to 
 me. I shall lead up to it in the most delicate manner in 
 the world, and think of something pleasant in order to 
 incline him favourably to it. Oh ! I should so like to do 
 something for you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 How good of you, Nora, to take up my cause so 
 zealously — it is doubly good in you, who know so little of 
 the troubles and difficulties of life. 
 
i6 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I ? I know so little of — ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden {smiling). 
 
 Bless me ! a little fancy-work, and things of that sort. 
 You are a mere baby, Nora. 
 
 Nora ( tosses her head and paces the room). 
 
 I would not be so positive if I were you. ' 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Really ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You are like everybody else. You none of you think 
 that I could be of any real use. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Come, come, darling — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 — that I have had my trials, too, in this troublesome 
 world. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Dear Nora, you have just finished telling me the whole 
 story of your trials. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I dare say — the little ones. {Softly .) The big trials I 
 haven’t told you a word about. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What great trials ? What do you mean ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You look at me so patronisingly, Christina ; but you 
 wouldn’t if you knew all. You are proud of having worked 
 so hard and so long for your mother. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I am sure I patronise nobody. But it is true that I am 
 proud and glad that it was my privilege to secure my 
 mother the evening-time of her life tolerably free from 
 care. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And you are also proud of having done all you did for 
 your brothers. 
 
NORA. 
 
 17 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 It seems to me I have a right to be proud of it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I quite agree. But now I will tell you something, 
 Christina : I, too, have something to be proud and glad 
 about. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I don’t doubt it. But what do you mean ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Not so loud. Suppose Torvald were to hear ! On no 
 account must he or anybody know it, Christina ; nobody 
 but you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What can it be, my dear ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Come over here ( draws her beside her on the sofa). 
 Yes ... I too have something to be proud and glad 
 about. It was I who saved Torvald’s life. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Saved his life? How saved his life ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I told you about our Italian journey. But for that he 
 must have died. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 So I understood, dear ; and your father gave you the 
 needful money. 
 
 Nora (smiting). 
 
 Yes ; so Torvald and everybody else believes ; but — 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Father didn’t give us one penny. It was I who found 
 the money. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You ? The whole of that large sum ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Three hundred pounds. What do you say to that ? 
 
 c 
 
1 8 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But, my dear Nora, how was it possible ? Did you win 
 it in some lottery ? 
 
 Nora ( contemptuously ). 
 
 In a lottery ? Pooh ! What would there have been 
 clever in that ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Then wherever did you get it from ? 
 
 Nora ( hums and smiles mysteriously ). 
 
 Hm ; tra-la-la-la ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 For you certainly couldn’t borrow it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No? Why not ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 My dear love ! how could a wife without her husband's 
 consent borrow such an important sum as that ? 
 
 Nora ( throwing her head back). 
 
 Oh ! when the wife is one who has some slight know- 
 ledge of business, a woman who knows how to set about 
 things with a little wisdom, then . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But, Nora, I can’t in the least comprehend — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nor need you. It has never been stated that I borrowed 
 the money. Perhaps I got it in another way ( throws her- 
 self back on the sofa). I may have got it from some 
 ardent swain or another. When anybody is so distractingly 
 pretty as I am . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You are a fool, Nora. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Now I am sure you are intensely curious, Christina . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Listen to me for a moment, Nora dear. Haven’t you 
 been a little indiscreet ? 
 
 Nora {sitting upright again). 
 
 Is it indiscreet to save one’s husband’s life ? 
 
NO HA. 
 
 19 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 It seems to me it was indiscreet that you, without his 
 knowledge . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But he mightn’t know anything about it. Can’t you 
 comprehend that ? He was not to guess for a single 
 moment how ill he was. The doctors told me, and me 
 only, that his life was in danger, that nothing could save 
 him but living for a time in the South. Don’t you sup- 
 pose I should have tried to manage it in some other way 
 first ? I laid before him how nice it would be for me if I 
 could go a journey abroad such as other married ladies 
 have been ; I wept and prayed ; I said he ought to con- 
 sider my circumstances ; it was really his duty to give me 
 my own way ; and then I hinted that he could of course 
 borrow the money. But when I said that, Christina, he 
 got almost angry. He said I was giddy, and that it was 
 his duty as a husband not to yield to my tempers and 
 fancies — yes, that was the word he used, I believe. Very 
 well, I thought, c but saved your life must be ; ’ and then 
 I found a way to do it. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And did not your husband learn from your father that 
 the money was not from him ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No; never. Father died within those few days. I 
 meant to have let him into my secret and begged him to 
 tell nothing. But as he was so ill . . . unhappily it was 
 not necessary. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And have you never since then taken your husband into 
 your confidence ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Dear me ! What can you be thinking of? Tell him, 
 when he is so strict on the point of not borrowing ? And 
 added to that — for Torvald, with his man’s self-reliance, 
 to know that he owed anything to me would be painful 
 and humiliating to the last degree. It would entirely 
 change the relation between us ; our beautiful, happy 
 home would never again be what it is now. 
 
 C 2 
 
20 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Will you never tell him ? 
 
 Nora ( thoughtfully , half- smiling). 
 
 Yes, — later on perhaps, — after many years, when I have 
 ceased to be so pretty as I am now. You mustn’t laugh at 
 me. Cf course I mean when Torvald is not so fond of 
 me as he is now ; when he no longer gets any amusement 
 out of seeing me skipping about, and dressing up and act- 
 ing. Then it might be rather a good plan to have some- 
 thing in the background. {Breaking off .) What nonsense ! 
 That time will never come. Now, what do you say to my 
 grand secret, Christina ? Am I not of some real use ? 
 Moreover, you will believe me when I say, the affair gave 
 me much anxiety. It was really not easy for me to meet 
 my engagements punctually. You must know, Christina, 
 that in the world of business there is something that is 
 called paying off, and quarterly interest, and they are 
 always so terribly hard to tide over. That compelled me 
 to pinch a little, here and there, wherever I could. I 
 could not lay anything aside out of the housekeeping 
 money, for of course Torvald had to live well. Nor could 
 I let the children go about badly dressed. All I received 
 for that purpose I had to expend on it. The dear, darling 
 children ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And so your own personal expenses had to be restricted ? 
 Poor Nora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, naturally. It was the first thing I thought of. 
 Whenever Torvald gave me money for clothes and similar 
 things, I never used more than half of it ; I always bought 
 the simplest and cheapest materials. It is most fortunate 
 that everything suits me so well ; so Torvald never 
 noticed anything wrong about my dress. But it was often 
 very hard, Christina dear. For it really is very nice to be 
 beautifully dressed. Now, isn’t it? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Indeed it is. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well, and besides that, I had other sources of income. 
 Last winter, for instance, I was so lucky as to get a heap 
 of copying work to do. Then I used to shut myself up 
 
NORA. 
 
 21 
 
 every evening and write far on into the night. Oh, some- 
 times I was so tired, so dreadfully tired. And yet it was 
 amusing to work in that way and earn money, I almost 
 felt as if I were a man. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But how much have you been able to pay off from this 
 debt ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well, now, that I can’t precisely say. In business like 
 this, you see, it is very hard to keep exact accounts. I 
 only know that I paid everything back that I could scrape 
 together. Sometimes I really didn’t know what to do 
 next {smiles). Then I used to sit down here and imagine 
 that a very rich old gentleman was in love with me. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What ! Which'gentleman ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh ! a mere story — that he was now dead, and that 
 when his will was opened, there stood in large letters : 
 
 6 Pay over at once everything of which I die possessed to 
 that charming person, Mrs. Nora Helmer. . .’ 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But, dear Nora, what gentleman was it? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Dear, dear, can’t you understand ? The old gentleman 
 never existed : it was only what I used to sit down and 
 think and dream, when I positively had no notion where I 
 could get any money from. But let us leave him alone, — 
 the tiresome old creature may stay wherever he is for 
 aught I care ; I don’t trouble my head about him, or his 
 will ; for now I am freed from all further anxiety {spring- 
 ing up). Oh, Christina, the thought of it does one good. 
 Free from cares ! Free, quite free. To be able to play 
 and romp about with the children ; to have things tasteful 
 and refined and comfortable in the house, exactly as 
 Torvald likes it all to be ! And then the spring will soon 
 return with the glorious blue sky. Perhaps then we shall 
 be able to have a short outing. Oh ! perhaps I shall get a 
 peep of the sea again. Oh, yes ! indeed it is glorious to 
 live and be happy. 
 
22 
 
 NORA. 
 
 ( The hall-door bell rings.) 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( rising ). 
 
 There is a ring. Perhaps I had better be going. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No; do stay. I am certain nobody will come in here. 
 It is sure to be somebody to see Torvald. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The Preceding. Ellen. Then Krogstad. 
 
 Ellen (in the door to the hall). 
 
 If you please, ma’am, there is a gentleman who wishes 
 to speak to Mr. Helmer. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The Bank Manager, you mean. 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Yes, ma’am, if you please, ma’am ; — but I didn’t know, 
 as the doctor is with him. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Where is the gentleman ? 
 
 Krogstad (in the door-way to the hall). 
 
 It is I, Mrs. Helmer. (Ellen goes.) 
 
 (Mrs. Linden is confused, recovers herself and turns 
 away to the window). 
 
 Nora (goes a step towards him, excited , half aloud). 
 You ? What does this mean ? What do you want to 
 speak with my husband about ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Bank business — to a certain extent. I hold a small 
 post in the Joint Stock Bank, and your husband is now to 
 be our chief, I hear. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 So you wish to speak about . . . ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Only about tiresome business, Mrs. Helmer ; nothing in 
 the world else. 
 
NORA. 
 
 23 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then will you be so kind as to take a seat in his office 
 over there? (KROGSTAD goes. She bows indifferently 
 while she closes the door into the hall. Then she walks to 
 the fire-place and looks to the fire.) 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Nora. Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 N ora, who was that man ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 A Mr. Krogstad. He used to be in the law. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; he was. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do you know the man ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I used to know him— many years ago. He was in our 
 town a long time as government lawyer. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; that is he. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 How altered he is. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He was very unhappily married. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And is he now a widower ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 With a whole troop of children. There! now it’s 
 burning properly (she puts the poker down and pushes the 
 rocking-chair a little aside). 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 He takes up all sorts of business, people say. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Does he? I dare say. I don’t know. . . But don’t let 
 us think of business — it is so tiresome. 
 
24 
 
 NORA. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 The Preceding. Rank {coming out of Helmer’s 
 room). 
 
 Rank (. still in the door-way , speaking over his shoulder). 
 
 No, no; I won’t disturb you. HI just go and chat to 
 your wife for a little while ( shuts the door and sees Mrs. 
 Linden ). Oh, I beg your pardon. I am in the way 
 here too. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, not in the least ( introduces them). Doctor Rank — 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, indeed, that is a name often heard in this house. 
 I think I just passed you on the stairs as we entered. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; I go so very slowly. I can't bear much going 
 upstairs. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, I see ; some slight accident. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 It is really due to over-fatigue. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 No worse than that? Ah! then you have come to 
 town to find some little recreation during the Christmas 
 holiday-time. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I have come here to look for work. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 May I ask if that is an approved remedy for over- 
 fatigue ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 One must live, Doctor Rank. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes, the general view of the matter appears to be that 
 it is necessary. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Come, Dr. Rank, you yourself want to live. 
 
NORA. 
 
 25 
 
 Rank. 
 
 To be sure I do. However miserable I am, I should 
 like to drag on as long as possible. And my patients all 
 cherish the same wish. It is just the same with people 
 who are morally rotten. At this very moment Helmer 
 has got talking to him precisely such a moral hospital- 
 inmate as I mean. 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( catching her breath). 
 
 Ah! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Whom do you mean ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, it’s a fellow called Krogstad, a lawyer, a man 
 you know nothing whatever about — rotten to the very 
 core of his character. But even he began the convers- 
 ation, as though he were going to say something very 
 important, by saying he must live. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Indeed? Then what did he want to talk to Torvald 
 about ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I really don’t know that ; I only gathered that it had 
 something to do with the Jcint Stock Bank. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I didn’t know that Krog — that this Mr. Krogstad had 
 anything to do with the Bank. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 He has some sort of post there. (To Mrs. Linden .) I 
 don’t know whether in your part of the country too there 
 are to be found the sort of men who haunt the place only 
 to scent out moral rottenness, and thus get some advan- 
 tageous post or another. The healthy have no chance 
 against them. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Well, after all it is better to open the door to the sick 
 and get them safe in. # 
 
 Rank ( shrugging his shoulders ). 
 
 Yes, so people say. And it is that very consideration 
 which turns society into an hospital. 
 
26 
 
 NORA. 
 
 (Nora, deep in her own thoughts , breaks into half-choked 
 laughter and claps her hands.)] 
 
 Rank. 
 
 What are you laughing about ? Do you know what 
 society is ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do I care about stupid ‘ society ’ ? I was laugh- 
 ing over something quite different, something awfully 
 funny. Tell me. Doctor Rank, are all the people employed 
 at the Bank now dependent on Torvald ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Is that what strikes you as so awfully funny? 
 
 Nora (smiles and hums). 
 
 Leave me alone, leave me alone (walks about the room)- 
 Yes, to think that we — that Torvald has now so much 
 influence over so many people really does give me enor- 
 mous satisfaction (takes the box from her pocket). Doctor, 
 will you have a sweetmeat ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, dear, dear. Sweetmeats ! I thought they were 
 contraband here. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; . . . but Christina brought me these. 
 
 Mrs. Ltnden. 
 
 What did you say, dear ? I ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, well, dear me ! You needn’t be so frightened. 
 You couldn’t possibly know that Torvald has forbidden 
 them. The fact is, he is afraid I might spoil my teeth. 
 But, oh, bother, just for once. It won’t hurt, will it, 
 Doctor Rank? (Puts a sweetmeat into his mouth.) And 
 you too, Christina. And I will have one at the same 
 time— only a tiny one, or at most two (walks about 
 again). Yes, I really am now in a state of extraordinary 
 happiness. There is only one thing in the world that I 
 should really like. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Well, and what’s that? 
 
NORA. 
 
 27 
 
 Nora. 
 
 There’s something that I should so like to say, — but for 
 Torvald to hear it. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Then why don’t you say it to him ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Because I daren’t, for it sounds so ugly. 
 
 Mrs, Linden. 
 
 Ugly? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 In that case I would not advise you to say it. But you 
 might say it to us, at any rate . . Pluck up your courage. 
 What is it that you would like to say in Helmer’s 
 presence . . ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I should like to shout with all my heart .... Oh ! 
 dash it all. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Are you out of your mind ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 My dearest N ora ! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Say it. There he is. 
 
 Nora ( hides the sweetmeat box). 
 
 Hush-sh-sh. ( Helmer comes out of his room, hat in 
 hand , with his overcoat on his arm ) 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 The Preceding. Helmer. 
 
 Nora {going towards him). 
 
 Well, Torvald dear, and have you got rid of him? 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes ; he’s gone at last. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 May I introduce you ? — this is Christina, who has come 
 to town. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Christina ? Pardon me, but I don’t know . . t 
 
28 
 
 NORA. 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden, Torvald dear — Christina Linden. 
 
 H ELMER ( to Mrs . Linden ). 
 
 Ah, indeed ! You are an early friend of my wife’s, I 
 dare say. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; we knew each other in old times. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And now only fancy ! She has taken this long journey 
 in order to speak to you. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 To speak to me ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Well, not actually . . , 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The fact is, Christina is extraordinarily clever in count- 
 ing-house work to begin with, and then she has such a 
 great wish to work under a really able man, in order to 
 learn even more than she knows already. 
 
 Helmer (to Mrs . Linden ). 
 
 Very sensible indeed. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And when she heard you were made Bank Manager, — 
 you see the ‘ Telegraph ’ has announced it to all the world, — 
 she started off and came here as fast as she could ; and, 
 Torvald dear, for my sake you can do something for 
 Christina. Now can’t you? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 It might not be impossible. I conclude you are a 
 widow ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And have already had some experience in office-work ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 A good deal. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, then, it is highly probable I can find a niche 
 for you. 
 
NORA. 
 
 29 
 
 Nora ( clapping her hands ). 
 
 There now ! there now ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You have just come at a lucky moment, Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Oh ! how can I thank you enough ? 
 
 Helmer {smiling). 
 
 There is no occasion to {puts his overcoat on). But 
 to-day you must excuse me. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Wait ; I’ll go with you {fetches his fur-lined coat from 
 the hall and warms it at the fire). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Don’t be out long, dear Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Only an hour; not longer. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Are you going also, Christina ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( putting on her walking things ). 
 
 Yes ; I must be off now and look for lodgings. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then perhaps we can go together. 
 
 Nora {helping her). 
 
 How vexatious that we should have no spare room to 
 offer you ; but it really is quite impossible. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What are you dreaming about ? Good-bye, dear Nora, 
 and thank you for all your kindness. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Good-bye for a little while. Of course you’ll come back 
 this evening. And you too, Doctor Rank. What? if 
 you feel well enough ? Of course you will. Only be sure 
 you wrap up warmly. {They go out talking into the hall . 
 Outside on the doorsteps are heard childrens voices.) 
 There they are ! there they are ! {She runs to the door 
 and opens it.) 
 
30 
 
 NOHA. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 The Preceding. Mary Ann. The Children. 
 Nora. 
 
 Come in ! come in ! ( bends down and kisses the children). 
 Oh ! my sweet darling . . . Do you see them, Chris- 
 tina ? Aren’t they darlings ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Don’t let’s stand here in the draught talking folly. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Come, Mrs. Linden ; people who are not mothers won’t 
 be able to stand it if they stay here any longer. {Rank, 
 Helmer , and Mrs. Linden go. Mary Ann enters the room 
 with the children , Nora also , and shuts the door.) 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 
 Nora. Mary Ann. The Children. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How fresh and merry you look ! And what rosy cheeks 
 you have ! — like apples and roses. {The children talk all 
 at once to her during the following. ) And so you have 
 been having great fun ? That is splendid. Oh, really ! you 
 have been giving Emmy and Bob a slide, both at once. 
 Dear me ! you are quite a man, Ivar. Oh, give her to 
 me a little, Mary Ann. My sweet-heart! {Takes the 
 sinallest from the nurse and dances it up and down. ) Yes, 
 yes, mother will dance with Bob too. What ! did you 
 have a game of snow-balls as well ? Oh ! I ought to have 
 been there. No, leave them, Mary Ann ; I will take 
 their things off. No, no, let me do it ; it is so amusing. 
 Go to the nursery for a while ; you look so frozen. You’ll 
 find some hot coffee on the stove. ( The nurse goes to the 
 room on the left. Nora takes off the children' s things and 
 throws them down anywhere , while she lets the children 
 talk to each other and to her.) Really ! Then there was 
 a big dog there who ran after you all the way home? 
 But I’m sure he didn’t bite you? No ; dogs don’t bite 
 dear dolly little children. Don’t peep into those parcels, 
 Ivar. You want to t now what that is ? Yes, you are the 
 only people who shall know. Oh, no, no, that is not 
 pretty. What ! must we have a game ? What shall it be, 
 
NORA. 
 
 31 
 
 then? Hide and seek? Yes, let us play hide and seek. 
 Bob shall hide first. Am I to ? Very well ; I will hide 
 first. (She and the children play , with laughing and 
 shouting , in the room and the adjacent one to the right. 
 At last Nora hides under the table; the children come 
 rushing in to look for her , but cannot find her , hear her 
 half -choked laughter , rush to the table , lift up the cover , and 
 see her. Stormy shouts. She creeps out , as though to 
 frighten them. Fresh shouts. Meanwhile there has been 
 a knock at the hall door. No one has heard it. Now the 
 door is half opened, and Krogstad is seen. He waits a 
 little ; the game is renewed .) 
 
 SCENE X. 
 
 Nora. The Children. Krogstad. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Excuse me, Mrs. Helmer — 
 
 Nora ( with a suppressed cry , turns round and halj 
 jumps up). 
 
 Oh ! What do you want ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Excuse me; the inner hall door was ajar — somebody 
 must have forgotten to shut it. 
 
 N ORA (standing up). 
 
 My husband is not at home, Mr. Krogstad. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I know it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Indeed ! Then what do you want here ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 To say a few words to you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 To me ? (To the children softly.) Go in to the nursery 
 to Mary Ann. What, dear? No, the strange man won’t 
 hurt Mamma. . When he is gone we will go on playing. 
 (She leads the children into the left-hand room and shuts 
 the door behind them.) 
 
 Nora ( uneasy , in suspense). 
 
 It was with me you wished to speak ? 
 
32 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Today ? But it is not yet the first — 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 No; to-day is Christmas Eve. It will depend upon 
 yourself what kind of Christmas happiness is granted you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you really want of me ? I certainly can’t to- 
 day — 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 We won’t discuss that beforehand. It is about another 
 matter. You have a minute to spare ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, yes, certainly ; I have that, although — 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Good. I was sitting over there in the Restaurant, and 
 I saw your husband cross the street. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; well ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 With a lady. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And what then ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 May I ask if the lady was a certain Mrs. Linden. 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Who has just arrived ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. This morning. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I suppose she is an intimate friend of yours. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Certainly she is. But I don’t understand . . . 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I used to know her too. 
 
NORA. 
 
 33 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I know you did. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Really? Then you know all about it. I thought as 
 much. Now, may I ask whether Mrs. Linden is to have 
 some post in the Bank ? 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 How can you allow yourself to catechise me in this way — 
 you, a subordinate official of my husband’s ? But since you 
 have asked, you shall know. Yes, .Mrs. Linden is to be 
 employed at the Bank. And it is 1 who took her by the 
 hand, Mr. Krogstad. Now you know. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Then my guess was right. 
 
 Nora ( walking up and down ). 
 
 Oh ! I should imagine one has a little wee bit of influ- 
 ence. It doesn’t follow that because one is only a woman 
 that. . . . When one is in a dependent position, Mr. 
 Krogstad, one ought to take the greatest care not to offend 
 anybody who — hm — 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Who has influence? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; just so. 
 
 Krogstad ( taking another tone ), 
 
 Mrs. Helmer, will you have the kindness to employ your 
 influence in my favour ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What ? How do you mean ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Will you be so obliging as to take care that I retain my 
 dependent position at the Bank? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What is all this about? Who wants to take your post 
 away, then ? 
 
 Kkogstad. 
 
 Oh, you needn’t pretend ignorance towards me. I can 
 very well comprehend that it cannot be pleasant for your 
 friend to meet me ; and I can also comprehend now 
 whom I have to thank for my dismissal. 
 
 D 
 
• 34 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But I assure you ... 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, yes ; make no bones about it : there is yet time, 
 and I advise you to use your influence to prevent it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But, Mr. Krogstad, I have absolutely no influence. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 None? It seems to me you were saying just now 
 yourself — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Of course you were not to understand me in that sense. 
 I ! How can you think I should have such influence as 
 that over my husband ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, I’ve known your husband since our College days. 
 I don’t think he is firmer than other husbands are. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If you talk disparagingly of my husband I must request 
 you to go. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 You are very courageous, my dear Madam. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I am no longer afraid of you. When New Year’s Day 
 is over I shall soon be out of the whole difficulty. 
 
 Krogstad ( controlling himself more ). 
 
 Now just listen to me, Mrs. Helmer. If needs be, I 
 shall fight as though it were for my life in order to keep 
 my small post in the Bank. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes; it looks as if you would. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 It is not only on account of the pay ; that is the part of it 
 that least matters to me. But it is something else. Well, 
 
 I suppose I’d better make a clean breast of it. Look here ; 
 it’s this. Of course you know just what everybody else 
 knows — that many years ago I once got into trouble. 
 
NORA. 
 
 35 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I think I heard something of the sort. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 The matter never came into Court ; but from that 
 moment all paths were, as it were, barricaded to me. Then 
 I threw myself into the kind of business which you know 
 about. I was obliged to snatch at something, and I may 
 say this much : I wasn’t the worst of the men in that line. 
 But now I ought to clear out of all business of that sort. 
 My sons are growing up ; on their account I must try to 
 win back as much respectability as I possibly can. In 
 that direction this post at the Bank was the first step. 
 And now your husband wants to push me back into the 
 mire. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But I do assure you, Mr. Krogstad, it is really not in my 
 power to help you. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Because you will not ; but I have the means of com- 
 pelling you to help 'me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You don’t intend to tell my husband that I owe you 
 money ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Hm. Supposing I were to tell him ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It would be scandalous of you ( with suppressed tears'). 
 This secret, which is my joy and my pride, he shall not 
 learn in such a vulgar, blunt way — and from you too. 
 You want to put me to the most terrible annoyance. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Only annoyance ? 
 
 Nora {hotly). 
 
 But just do it ; the consequences will be worse for you 
 than anybody else ; for then my husband will see clearly 
 what a bad man you are, and then you certainly will not 
 keep your post. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I asked if it were only domestic unpleasantness that you 
 were afraid of? 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 NOE; A. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If my husband gets to know about it he will of course 
 pay the rest without delay ; and then we have nothing 
 more to do with you. 
 
 Krogstad {stepping a pace nearer). 
 
 Listen, Mrs. Helmer : either you have rather a weak 
 memory, or you don’t know much about business. In that 
 case I must get you to go more deeply into the matter. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How will you do that ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 When your husband was ill, you came to me to borrow 
 /300 of me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I knew nobody else. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I promised to find you the money. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And you did find it. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I promised to find you the money under certain con- 
 ditions. You were just then so excited about your hus- 
 band’s illness, and so anxious to get hold of the money for 
 your journey, that you probably did not think twice about 
 the difficulties it involved. It is therefore not superfluous 
 for me to remind you of them. Now, I promised to find 
 you the money in exchange for an acknowledgment which 
 I drew up. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, and I signed it. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Very well. But then I added a few lines whereby your 
 father became security for the debt. Your father was to 
 sign this. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Was to ? He did sign. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I had left the date blank : that is to say, your father 
 was to insert the date on which he signed the document. 
 Do you recollect this, Mrs. Helmer ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 37 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I believe. . . 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Thereupon I gave you the piece of paper that you 
 might send it to your father. Is not that so ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And of course you did so without delay ; for within five 
 or six days you brought me back the acknowledgment 
 duly signed by your father. Then you received from me 
 the sum promised. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well, to be sure ; have I not paid it back punctually ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Very fairly ; yes. But let us return to the matter we 
 were speaking of. You were in great trouble at the time, 
 Mrs. Helmer ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I was indeed. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Your father, too, was very seriously ill, I believe. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He was on his death-bed. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And died soon after ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Now, just tell me, Mrs. Helmer, whether by any chance 
 you happen to recollect which day he died — which day of 
 the month, 1 mean. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Father died on the twenty-ninth of September. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Quite correct ; I have made inquiries about it. That 
 is why 1 cannot explain a remarkable circumstance {draws 
 from his pocket a piece of writing). 
 
38 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 A remarkable circumstance ? I do not know. . . . 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 The remarkable circumstance, dear Mrs. Helmer, is, 
 that your father signed this acknowledgment three days 
 after his death. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What ? I don’t understand. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Your father died on the twenty-ninth of September. 
 But just look here. Here your father has dated his 
 signature October the 2nd. Is not that remarkable, Mrs. 
 Helmer ? 
 
 (Nora is silent.') 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Can you explain that to me ? 
 
 (Nora continues silent .) 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 It is also striking that the words * October the 2nd ’ and 
 the year are not in your father’s handwriting, but in one 
 which I believe I know. Now this may be explained by 
 supposing that your father forgot to date it, and that some- 
 body added the date by guess work before the fact of his 
 death was known. There is nothing improper in that 
 proceeding. But it is the signature of his name that my 
 question relates to. And is it genuine, Mrs. Helmer? 
 Was it really your father who with his own hand set his 
 name here ? 
 
 Nora {after a short silence throws her head hack and looks 
 defiantly at him). 
 
 No; it is I who wrote papa’s name there. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And are you aware, moreover, that that is a dangerous 
 admission ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Why? You will soon get your money. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 May I be permitted one more question : Why did you 
 not send the document to your father ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 39 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It was impossible. Father was then dangerously ill. 
 If I had asked him for his signature I should also have 
 had to tell him what I wanted the money for. But in his 
 condition I really could not tell him that my husband’s 
 life hung by a thread. It was quite impossible. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Then it would have been better for you to give up the 
 journey abroad. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That was impossible too. My husband’s life depended 
 on that journey. I could not give it up. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 But did you not consider, then, that it was a fraud 
 on me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I could not take any heed of that. I did not care in the 
 least about you. I could not endure you on account of all 
 the hard-hearted difficulties you made, although you knew 
 how ill my husband was. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Mrs. Helmer, you have evidently no clear idea what 
 you have been really guilty of. But I can assure you it 
 was nothing different from this, nor worse than this, that 
 I once did, and that destroyed my entire position in 
 society. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You ? Do you want to make me believe that you would 
 have dared to do a courageous act in order to save your 
 wife’s life ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 The laws inquire little into motives. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then we must have very bad laws. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Bad, or not bad, — if I lay this document before a court 
 of law you will be judged according to the laws. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That I do not believe. Do you mean to tell me that a 
 
40 
 
 NORA. 
 
 daughter has not the right to spare her old father, on his 
 death-bed, care and worry ? Do you mean to say that a 
 wife has not the right to save her husband’s life ? I don’t 
 know the law precisely, but I am convinced that some- 
 where or another the law must contain leave for me to 
 have done such things. And you don’t know it — you, a 
 lawyer. You must be a bad lawyer, Mr. Krogstad. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I dare say. But business — such business as ours here — 
 I do understand; you believe that? Very well. Now, 
 do as you please. But this I do say to you : that if I am 
 turned out of society a second time, you shall keep me 
 company. ( He bows and goes out through the hall.) 
 
 SCENE XI. 
 
 Nora. Then the Children. 
 
 N ORA ( stands awhile thinking , then she throws 
 her head back). 
 
 Never ! To try to frighten me ! I am not so simple as 
 that. ( Begins folding the children's clothes ; pauses .) 
 But . . . no ; but that is quite impossible. I did it 
 from love. 
 
 The Children {in the left door). 
 
 Mamma, the strange man is gone now. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, yes ; I know. But don’t tell any one about the 
 strange man. Do you hear? Not even papa. 
 
 The Children. 
 
 No, mamma ; but now will you play with us again ? 
 Nora. 
 
 No, no ; not now. 
 
 The Children. 
 
 Oh, do, mamma. You did promise. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; but I can’t just now. Run to the nursery; I have 
 so much to do. Run along, run along, my dear, good 
 children. {She compels them gently to go into the inner 
 room , and shuts the door behind them.) 
 
NORA. 
 
 4i 
 
 SCENE XII. 
 
 Nora. Then Ellen. 
 
 Nora ( throws herself on the sofa , takes a piece of 
 embroidery and does a few stitches , but soon pauses). 
 
 No ( throws the embroidery down , stands up , goes to the 
 door towards the hall , and calls out). Ellen, bring in the 
 Christmas-tree. ( Goes to the left-hand table and opens the 
 drawer ; stands again , thoughtful). No ; but that is 
 quite impossible. 
 
 Ellen ( with the Christmas-tree). 
 
 Where shall I stand it, if you please, ma’am? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 There, in the middle of the room. 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Shall I bring in anything else ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, thank you; I have what I want. 
 
 (Ellen, who has put down the tree , goes out again.) 
 
 Nora ( busy dressing the tree). 
 
 There must be a candle here, and some flowers there. — - 
 The horrid man ! — Nonsense, nonsense ; there is nothing 
 wrong in it. . . . The Christmas-tree shall be beautiful. 
 I will do everything that gives you pleasure, Torvald; I 
 will sing, and dance, and . . . 
 
 SCENE XIII. 
 
 Nora. H elmer {from out of doors , with a bundle \ 
 of documents under his arm). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh ! are you back already ? 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Yes. Has anybody been here ? 
 
 Here? No. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Curious ! I saw Krogstad come out of the house. 
 
42 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Did you ? Oh, yes, it is true he was here for a minute. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, I can see from your manner he has been here, and 
 asked you to put in a good word for him. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And you were to do it as of your own accord ? You 
 were to say nothing to me of his having been here ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, Torvald; but— 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, Nora ! and you could bring yourself to do that? 
 to allow yourself to be drawn into talk with such a man, 
 and give him a promise. And then tell me an untruth 
 about it ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 An untruth ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Didn’t you say nobody had been here? ( Threatens 
 with his finger .) My lark must never do that again. A 
 little singing bird must never sing false notes ( puts his 
 arm round her). That’s true, isn’t it? Yes, I knew it 
 ( lets her go). And now we’ll say no more about it ( sits 
 down before the fire). Oh, how comfortable and quiet it 
 is here ( glances into his documents). 
 
 N ora (busy with the tree , after a short silence). 
 
 Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I am so excessively delighted over the Steinbergs 
 costume ball the day after to-morrow. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And I am so excessively curious to see what you will 
 surprise me with. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh ! that’s the tiresome part of it. 
 
NORA. 
 
 43 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 How do you mean ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I can’t find anything to suit me. Everything seems so 
 silly and meaningless. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Has my little Nora arrived at that opinion ? 
 
 Nora ( behind his chair , with her arms on the back). 
 
 Are you very busy, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Eh? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What sort of papers are those ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Papers concerning the Bank. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Already ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I got the retiring authorities to give me full power 
 beforehand to make the necessary changes in the staff and 
 method of working. This is what I must spend my 
 Christmas wee.v in arranging. By New Year’s Day I will 
 have everything in order. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then this is why that poor Krogstad . . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 H— m. . . . 
 
 Nora (leaning further over the chair , strokes his hair). 
 
 If your work were not so pressing I should ask you a 
 great, great favour, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Let’s hear it. What can it be ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nobody has such refined taste as you have. Now I 
 should so love to look well at the costume ball. Torvald, 
 dear, couldn’ t you take me in hand and settle what char- 
 acter I am to appear in, and how my costume ought to be 
 arranged ? 
 
44 
 
 NORA. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Is that obstinate little head of yours puzzled at last, and 
 looking about for somebody to save it from destruction ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, Torvald. Without you I am utterly helpless. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, well; I’ll think it over; we will soon hit upon 
 something together. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, how kind and good that is of you (goes to the tree 
 again; pause). How pretty the red flowers look. But, 
 by-the-bye, was the . . . thing which Krogstad got into 
 trouble about years ago really so bad ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Forged a name, that’s all. Have you any notion what 
 that means? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Mustn’t he have done it from need ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes, or as so many others do it, from heedlessness. I 
 am not so heartless as to judge anybody absolutely from 
 such a transaction alone. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; that’s just what I thought you would say, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Many a man can lift himself up again morally if he 
 openly recognises his offence and undergoes its punish- 
 ment. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Punishment ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But Krogstad didn’t set about it in that way : he tried 
 to wont his way out of it by dodges and tricks, and by 
 that very means he has morally ruined himself. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do you think that it ... ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Only just think how a man so conscious of guilt as that 
 
NORA. 
 
 45 
 
 must go about everywhere lying, and a hypocrite, and an 
 actor ; how he must wear a mask towards his neighbour, 
 and even his wife and children, his own children. That’s 
 the worst, Nora ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Because such a misty atmosphere of lying brings conta- 
 gion into the whole family. Every breath the children 
 draw contains some germ of evil. 
 
 Nora ( closer behind him). 
 
 Are you quite sure ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 As a lawyer, darling child, I have remarked that many 
 a time. Nearly all men who go to ruin early have had 
 untruthful mothers. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Why should it be — mothers ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 In most cases it comes from the mother ; but the father 
 naturally works in the same direction. Every lawyer has 
 reason to know that. And Krogstad has actually been 
 poisoning his own children for years past by lying and 
 acting a part; that is precisely why I call him morally lost. 
 ( Stretches out his hands to her.) This is the reason why 
 my dear little Nora must not plead on his behalf. Shake 
 hands upon it. Come, come ; what’s that ? Give me 
 your hand. That’s right. Then it’s a bargain. I do 
 assure you it would have been impossible to me to work 
 with him. I feel bodily discomfort when I am in any 
 proximity to such people. 
 
 Nora ( takes her hand away and stalks to the other side 
 of the Christmas-tree ). 
 
 How warm it is here. And I have so much to do still. 
 
 Helmer (rises and puts his papers together). 
 
 Yes, I must take care to get some of these papers read 
 through before dinner ; and I will think over your costume 
 too. And I should not be surprised if I were to get ready 
 some trifle that might be hung in gilt paper on the 
 Christmas-tree. ( Lays his hand upon her head.) My dear 
 
46 
 
 NOE, -A. 
 
 little lark. (He goes into his room and shuts the door 
 behind him. ) 
 
 SCENE XIV. 
 
 Nora. Then Mary Ann. 
 
 Nora (slowly, after a pause'). 
 
 What was it? It can’t be so . . That is impossible. 
 It must be impossible. 
 
 Mary Ann (in the left door.) 
 
 The little ones are begging so prettily to come in to 
 mamma. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, no ; don’t let them come in to me. Let them stay 
 with you, Mary Ann. 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Very well, ma’am ( shuts the door). 
 
 Nora ( pale with terror). 
 
 I ruin my children . . . poison my home. (Short pause. 
 She raises her head proudly.) That is not true. It is 
 never, and can never be, true. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE SAME ROOM. 
 
 (In the corner beside the piano stands the Christmas-tree, 
 stripped, shabby, and with the candles burnt out. On 
 the sofa Nora's walking things . ) 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Nora (alone. She walks about restlessly. At last stands 
 by the sofa and takes her cloak. After a minute’s reflection 
 she lets it fall again on to the sofa). 
 
 There’s somebody coming. ( Goes to the door , listens.) 
 No; nobody. Nobody is likely to come to-day, Christmas 
 Day, nor to-morrow either. But perhaps . . {opens the 
 door and peeps out). No. Nothing in the letter-box ; it’s 
 quite empty. {Comes to the front of the stage.) Stuff and 
 nonsense ! Of course he will do nothing serious in it* 
 
NORA. 
 
 47 
 
 Nothing of the kind can possibly happen. It is impossible. 
 Why, I have three little children. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 (Mary Ann coming out of the left room with a large 
 paper card-board box.) 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 At last I’ve found the box with the masquerade dress. 
 Nora. 
 
 Thanks ; put it down on the table there. 
 
 Mary Ann ( does so). 
 
 But it is still very much out of order, ma’am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, I wish I could tear it into a hundred thousand pieces. 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Good gracious me, ma’am ! Why, it can be easily put 
 to rights ; it only wants a little patience. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; I will go to Mrs. Linden and get her to help me. 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 What ! out again, ma’am ? In this dreadful weather ? 
 You’ll catch your death of cold, ma’am, and be quite ill. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, that’s not the worst thing that could happen. 
 What are the children doing ? 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 They’re playing with their Christmas presents, dear 
 little things ; but . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do they often ask after me ? 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Well, you see, ma’am, they have been so used to having 
 their mamma always with them. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes; but, Mary Ann, henceforth I can’t have them so 
 much with me as hitherto. 
 
43 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Well, ma’am, little children get used to anything. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do you think they do? Do you believe that they 
 would forget their mother if she went quite away ? 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Gracious me, ma’am ; quite away ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Tell me, Mary Ann — I’ve so often wondered about 
 it — how could you bring yourself to give your child up to 
 strangers ? 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 But I was obliged to, if I wanted to come as nurse to 
 my little Miss Nora, ma’am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; but that you could want to. 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 When I could get such a good place, ma’am ? A poor 
 girl who’s been in trouble could only be very glad to 
 come ; for that wicked man did nothing for me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But of course your daughter has forgotten you ? 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Oh no, ma’am, not in the least. She w r rote to me both 
 when she was confirmed and when she got married. 
 
 Nora ( embracing her). 
 
 Dear Mary Ann, you were a good mother to me when 
 I was a little girl. 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 My poor little Miss Nora had no mother but me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And if my little children had nobody else I am sure 
 you would . . . Nonsense, nonsense {opens the box). Go 
 to them in the nursery. Now I must . . . To-morrow 
 you shall see how beautifully this dress suits me. 
 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Yes, ma’am, I’m sure there will be nobody so beautiful 
 
NORA. 
 
 49 
 
 at the whole ball as my Miss Nora. ( She goes into the 
 left r ooi7i.) 
 
 Nora ( begins taking the costume out of the box , then 
 soon throws it down again). 
 
 Oh, if I could go away. If only nobody would come. 
 If only nothing would happen here at home meanwhile. 
 Rubbish ! nobody will come. Only not to think . . . 
 Stroke one’s muff smooth. Beautiful gloves, beautiful 
 gloves . . . Away with the whole thing, away with it . . . 
 One, two, three, four, five, six. ( With a cry.) Oh ! there 
 comes the . . . ( goes towards the door , but stands un- 
 decided). 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Nora. Mrs. Linden (comes from the hall, where she 
 has taken off her things). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, it is you, Christina. Is nobody else there ? How 
 delightful of you to come. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I hear you have called at my lodgings to ask for me. 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I was just passing. There is something I wanted 
 you to help me with. Let us sit here on the sofa. Look 
 here. To-morrow evening there is a costume ball at 
 Consul Steinberg’s overhead, and now Torvald wants me 
 to appear as a Neapolitan fisher-girl, and dance the taran- 
 tella, because I did learn it in Capri. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I see, dear. Then you are to give quite a representa- 
 tion of the character ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes.; Torvald wishes me to. Look ! here is the cos-' 
 tume. Torvald had it made for me in Italy; but now it 
 is all so torn, and I hardly know . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Oh ! we’ll soon set that to rights for you. It is only 
 the trimming that has got loose here and there. Have 
 
 E 
 
5° 
 
 NOE, A. 
 
 you a needle and thread ? Ah ! there’s the very thing we 
 want. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How kind it is of you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {sewing). 
 
 If you’re going to dress up to-morrow, Nora, I tell you 
 what — I shall come in for a moment in order to see you 
 in all your glory. But I have quite forgotten to thank you 
 for the pleasant evening you gave me yesterday. 
 
 Nora ( looks up and walks across the room). 
 
 Ah 1 yesterday it didn’t seem to me so pleasant here as 
 it generally is. . . . You should have come to town sooner, 
 Christina. Yes, Torvald knows how to make our home 
 beautiful and pleasant. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And so do you, I think ; or you would not be your 
 father’s daughter. But tell me — is Doctor Rank always 
 so depressed as he was yesterday evening ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It was particularly striking yesterday. He really has a 
 terrible illness that accounts for it. He has spinal con- 
 sumption, poor wretch. You see, his father was an awful 
 man, who did all sorts of wrong things, and so of course 
 his son has been ill from his childhood. 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( lets her sewing fall into her lap). 
 
 But, my dearest, loveliest Nora, how do you learn such 
 things ? 
 
 Nora (walking). 
 
 Oh ! when one has three children one is sometimes called 
 upon by . . . women who have a little medical know- 
 ledge, and happen to chat about one thing or another. 
 
 Mrs. Linden (goes on sewing; short pause). 
 
 Does Doctor Rank come here every day ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He never misses. He has been Torvald’s friend from 
 boyhood, you know, and is a good friend of mine too. 
 Doctor Rank is quite one of the family. 
 
NORA. 
 
 5i 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But just tell me, dear : is the man quite honest ? I 
 mean, doesn’t he like saying flattering things to people? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 On the contrary. What makes you think so ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 When you introduced us yesterday he declared he had 
 often heard my name in the house ; but then I noticed 
 your husband had no notion who I was. How, then, 
 could Doctor Rank? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You are right, Christina. But you see, dear Torvaid 
 loves me so indescribably much ; and so he wants to have 
 me all to himself, as he expresses it. When we first 
 married he was almost jealous if I did but mention one of 
 the people I lived with at home, so I naturally ceased to 
 mention them. But I often talk to Doctor Rank about it, 
 for he loves to hear me babble on. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Dear Nora, in many things you are still just like a 
 child. I am somewhat older than you are, and have a 
 little more experience. I will tell you something : you 
 ought to put an end to the whole affair with this Doctor. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What affair ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Both affairs, it seems to me. Yesterday you were 
 telling me about a rich admirer who was to furnish you 
 with money. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, and who never existed, more’s the pity. But what 
 then ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Has Doctor Rank property ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, he has. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And nobody to provide for r UB&ARV 
 
52 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nobody. But — 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And he comes here every day ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; I tell you he never misses. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But how can he, as a gentleman, be so intrusive ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I really don’t understand you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Don’t pretend, Nora. Don’t you suppose I did not 
 guess from whom you borrowed the ^300 ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Are you out of your senses ? You think that ? A friend 
 of the family who comes here every day to us ! What a 
 terrible, torturing state of things it would be ! 
 
 Mrs. Linlen. 
 
 Then it really is not he? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No; that I do assure you. It never for a moment 
 occurred to me to ask him. Besides, at that time he had 
 nothing to lend; it was later that he came into his 
 property. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Well, that was certainly lucky for you, Nora dear. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, really, it never would have struck me to ask Doctor 
 Rank However, I am certain that if I did — 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 But of course you never would . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I should think not, indeed. Nor do I believe it will be 
 necessary. But I am firmly convinced that if I said to 
 Doctor Rank — 
 
NORA. 
 
 53 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Behind your husband’s back ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I must get out of the other loan ; that I had to manage 
 behind his back too. I must get out of that. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, yes, you were saying so yesterday ; but — 
 
 Nora ( walking up and down). 
 
 A man can get things into better order somehow than 
 a woman can. . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Her own husband ; yes. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nonsense. {Stands stilly When one pays everything 
 off that one owes, one gets back the acknowledgment of 
 the debt ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Of course. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And can tear it into a hundred thousand pieces and 
 burn the nasty, horrid thing ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden {looks at her fixedly , lays down her work , 
 and looks up slowly). 
 
 Nora, you are hiding something from me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Can you see that in my manner ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Since yesterday morning something has been happening 
 to you. Nora, what is it? 
 
 N ORA {going towards her). 
 
 Christina. {Listens.) Hush. There’s Torvald coming 
 home. Here, go and sit with the children. Torvald can’t 
 bear to see dress-making. Let Mary Ann help you. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {gathers some of the things together). 
 
 Very well ; but I shan’t go away until we have spoken 
 openly to each other. {She goes away to the left as Helmer 
 enters from the Hall). 
 
54 
 
 NORA. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Nora. H elmer. 
 
 Nora (goes to meet him ). 
 
 Oh ! how I have been longing to see you, Torvald dear. 
 Helmer. 
 
 Was the dress-maker here ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; Christina. She is helping me to get my costume 
 into order. You will see I shall look perfectly charming. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes ; wasn’t that an extremely lucky thought of mine ? 
 Nora. 
 
 Glorious ! But is it not also very beautiful of me to 
 give in to you ? 
 
 Helmer (takes her under the chin). 
 
 Beautiful of you — that you give in to your own husband ! 
 Why, you little rogue, I know very well you didn’t mean 
 anything of the sort. But I won’t disturb you. I dare say 
 you want to be fitting on your dress. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And I dare say you’re going to work ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes (shows her a bundle of do cuments). Look here. I 
 was at the bank just now (is about to go to his room). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Torvald. 
 
 Helmer (stands stilt). 
 
 Yes ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If your little squirrel were to ask you for something very 
 prettily and seriously. . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then? 
 
 Would you do it ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
NORA. 
 
 55 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Naturally I should first expect to be told what it is. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The little squirrel would jump about and perform all 
 sorts of funny tricks if you would be amiable and do as 
 you are asked. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Come, then ; out with it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The little lark would twitter round in all the rooms, loud 
 and soft by turns. . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh, there’s nothing in s that. She does all that as 
 it is. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I would act a fairy, and dance in the moonshine, 
 Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, you can’t mean what you were begging me about 
 this morning ? 
 
 Nora (coming nearer). 
 
 Yes, Torvald, I do beg you so. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Have you really courage to mention the matter again 
 to me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, yes. You must grant my request. You must let 
 Krogstad keep his place at the Bank. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 My dear Nora, I have arranged for his place to be 
 given to Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, and that was very nice of you. But instead of 
 Krogstad, you could dismiss some other clerk. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 That would be incredibly absurd. Because you heed- 
 lessly promised to put in a word for him, I am to . . . 
 
NORA. 
 
 56 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Not for that reason, Torvald. It is for your own sake. 
 The man is on the staff of some of our most scurrilous 
 newspapers; I have heard you say so myself. He can 
 do you such infinite harm. I am so terribly afraid of 
 him. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Oh, I understand ; it is old recollections that are 
 frightening you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Why do you say that ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Of course you are thinking of your father. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, to be sure. Only call to mind what wicked men 
 used to write about father in the papers, and how shame- 
 fully they calumniated him. I believe they really would 
 have got him dismissed if Government had not sent you 
 down to look into the matter, and if you had not been so 
 kindly and considerate towards him. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 My dear Nora, between your father and me there is all 
 the difference in the world. Your father was not, as an 
 official, quite unimpeachable. But I am ; and I hope to 
 remain so as long as I am at my post. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, you don’t in the least comprehend how wicked men 
 find out all sorts of things to say. We could be so well 
 off now, and live so quietly and happily in our peaceful 
 home, free from any kind of care, you and I and the 
 children, Torvald ! This is why I beg you so earnestly. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And it is just by your throwing yourself into the matter 
 that you make it impossible for me to keep him. It is 
 already known at the Bank that I intend to dismiss 
 Krogstad. If it were now to be known that the new Bank 
 Manager let himself be talked round by his wife — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well, then ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 57 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 If only the obstinate little woman can get her own way, 
 of course that is all she wants. . . I am to make myself 
 the laughing-stock of all the clerks, and set people saying 
 I am under outside influence. Take my word for it, I 
 should soon trace the consequences. And besides, there 
 is one circumstance that makes Krogstad an impossible 
 person to have at the Bank while I am manager there. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What circumstance ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 In case of necessity I could perhaps have overlooked 
 his moral fault. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, couldn’t you, Torvald? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And by what I hear he must be quite competent. But 
 we knew each other in early youth. It is one of those 
 hasty acquaintances that so often hamper one in later life. 
 In fact, the whole difficulty lies in his calling me Torvald. 
 And the tactless creature makes no secret of it when other 
 people are present. On the contrary, he fancies it justifies 
 his taking a familiar tone with me ; and so he blurts out 
 at every turn, ‘ I say, Torvald I do assure you it causes 
 me most painful emotion. He would make my position 
 at the Bank perfectly unendurable to me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Torvald, you are not serious in saying all this. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not? Why not? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 All these are such petty considerations. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What are you saying ? Petty consid — Do you con- 
 sider me petty ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, on the contrary, Torvald dear ; and that is just 
 why — 
 
58 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 It’s all the same. You call my reasons petty ; then I 
 must be petty too. Petty ! Very well then. Now we’ll 
 put an end to this once and for all. ( Goes to the door into 
 the hall and calls.) Ellen ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you want to do ! 
 
 Helmer {searching among his papers). 
 
 To put an end to the whole affair. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 The Preceding. Ellen. 
 
 Helmer {to Ellen). 
 
 There, take the letter. Give it to a messenger. But see 
 that he takes it at once. The address is on it. Here is 
 the money for him. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 Nora. Helmer. 
 
 Helmer {putting his papers in order). 
 
 There, my obstinate little wife. 
 
 Nora {as though out of her ?nind). 
 
 Torvald, what letter was that ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Krogstad’s dismissal. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Fetch it back again, Torvald. There is still time. 
 Oh, Torvald, get it back again. Do it for my sake— for 
 your own sake — for our children’s sake. Do you hear ? 
 Torvald, do it. You don’t know what that letter has the 
 power to bring upon us all. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Too late. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, too late. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Dear Nora, I forgive you your anxiety, although it is 
 
NORA. 
 
 59 
 
 founded upon what is wounding to me. Yes, that is 
 what it really is. Or perhaps it is no offence to me for 
 you to believe I should be afraid of the revenge of a dis- 
 graced newspaper scribbler ? But I forgive it you, because 
 it is all the time a charming proof of your great love for me 
 {takes her in his arms). It must be so, my dear, darling 
 Nora. Let what will befall us. If I am called upon for it, 
 I have not only courage, but the strength too, you know. 
 You shall see I am powerful enough to take everything 
 upon my shoulders. 
 
 Nora ( suddenly terrified ). 
 
 What do you mean by that ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Everything, I say. 
 
 Nora ( decidedly ). 
 
 That you shall never, never do. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Very well ; then we will share it, N ora, as man and wife, 
 just as we ought to do ( strokes her). Are you satisfied 
 now ? Come, come, come ; don’t let me see those eyes 
 looking like a scared dove’s. It is all your own fancy. 
 Now you must act the tarantella, and practise the tam- 
 bourine. I shall go and sit in my other office and shut 
 the double door, so that I shall hear nothing. You can 
 make as much noise as ever you please ( turns round in 
 the doorway ), and when Rank comes, just tell him where I 
 am to be found. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 Nora. Then Rank. Later Ellen. 
 
 N ORA {shaken with anxiety , stands as though rooted 
 to the ground , and whispers). 
 
 He had it in his power to do it. Yes ; he did it. He 
 did it in spite of all and everything I said. No; never 
 that, to all Eternity. Rather anything than that ! Save 
 me ! Oh, for some way out of it. {The hall-door bell rings l) 
 Doctor Rank ! Rather anything than that, whatever it may 
 be. ( She drags herself slowly along , with her hand over 
 her face , goes to the door and opens it. Rank stands 
 
6o 
 
 NORA. 
 
 outside and hangs up his greatcoat. During the following 
 scene it grows dark.) Good afternoon, Doctor Rank. I 
 knew you by your ring. But you must not go to Torvald 
 now ; for I believe he has some work to do. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 And you ? 
 
 N ora (as he walks into the room , and she shuts the 
 door behind him). 
 
 Oh, you know perfectly well I have always [a spare 
 moment for you. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Thank you. I shall avail myself of your kindness as 
 long as ever I can. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What does that mean ? As long as ever you can ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes ; does that frighten you ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You express yourself so curiously. Does it mean you 
 have got to know something ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Something about which I have long been convinced ; but 
 I did not think it would come off quite so soon. 
 
 Nora ( seizing his arm). 
 
 What is it you have got to know? Doctor Rank, you 
 must tell me. 
 
 Rank ( sitting down by the stove). 
 
 I am running downhill. There is no help for it. 
 
 Nora ( breathing with relief ). 
 
 You are the one, then, who . . . ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Who else should it be? Why deceive oneself? I am 
 the most miserable of all my patients, Mrs. Helmer. In 
 the last few days I have had a general stock-taking of my 
 inner man. Bankruptcy ! Before a month is over I shall 
 be food for worms in the churchyard. 
 
NORA. 
 
 6 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, what ugly things you say ! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 The thing itself is so cursed ugly. But the worst of 
 it is, that so many other ugly things have to be gone 
 through first. There is only one investigation to be 
 made, and when I have made it I shall know exactly at 
 what time dissolution will begin. There is something I 
 want to say to you about that. Helmer has stamped oil 
 his refined nature such a hatred for all that is ugly ; I will 
 not have him in my sick room. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But, Doctor Rank — 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I will not have him in my sick room — upon any condi- 
 tion whatsoever. I close my door against him. As soon 
 as I obtain completely certain information as to the worst, 
 I shall send you my visiting card with a black cross on it, 
 and then you will know that the horrors of dissolution have 
 begun. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Come, this is too bad of you. The things you are say- 
 ing, too, are too disagreeable for anything. And I was so 
 particularly anxious you should be in a really good temper. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 With Death staring me in the face ? And all by way 
 of penance for the faults of other people. What justice is 
 there in that ? Just such compensation is being exacted, 
 inexorably, after one fashion or another, in every family. 
 
 N ORA (. stopping her ears). 
 
 Nonsense. Do be funny, funny ! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes, really, the whole story is only worth laughing at. 
 My poor innocent spine must do penance for my father’s 
 notions of amusement when he was a lieutenant in the 
 army. 
 
 Nora {at the left table). 
 
 I suppose he was devoted to asparagus and Strasburg 
 pies, wasn’t he? 
 
62 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Certainly, and to truffles. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, devoted to truffles, to be sure, and to oysters, I 
 believe. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes, to oysters ; no need to mention that ; oysters, of 
 course. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And then all the port wine and champagne. It is 
 sad that all these dainties should affect the bones so 
 disastrously. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Especially wnen the bones so disastrously affected never 
 got the least advantage from the dainties. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; that is the saddest part of it. 
 
 Rank ( looks at her searchingly). 
 
 H— m. . . . 
 
 Nora ( a moment later). 
 
 Why were you smiling ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 N o ; it was you who smiled. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, you, Doctor Rank. 
 
 Rank {standing up'). 
 
 You are really a greater rogue than I thought. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 To-day I am just inclined to play all sorts of tricks. 
 Rank. 
 
 It seems like it. 
 
 Nora {with her hands on his shoulders ). 
 
 Dear, good Doctor Rank, Death shall not take you 
 away from Torvald and me. 
 
NORA. 
 
 ^3 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, you will easily get over the loss. People who go 
 away are soon forgotten. 
 
 Nora ( looking at him anxiously ). 
 
 Do you think so ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 People make fresh ties, and then — 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 Who will make fresh ties ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 You and Helmer, as soon as I am gone. In fact, you 
 are already setting about it, it seems to me. What was 
 this Mrs. Linden doing here yesterday ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, that’s it ? But you don’t mean to say you’re jealous 
 of poor Christina ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes, I am. She will be my successor here in your 
 house. This woman will probably — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Hush ! Not so loud ; she is in there. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 To-day, as well? There, just what I said ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Only to put my costume in order. But, really, what 
 odious things you are saying ( sits on the sofa). Now, do 
 just be sensible, Doctor Rank ; to-morrow you shall see 
 how beautifully I dance, and then you may fancy, if you 
 like, that I am doing it all to please you only, and of 
 course Torvald as well — of course ( takes various things 
 out of the cardboard box). Doctor Rank, sit over here ; I 
 will show you something. 
 
 What is it ? 
 Look here. 
 
 Rank ( sitting down). 
 Nora. 
 
 Do you see these ? 
 
6 4 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Silk stockings. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Flesh-coloured. Aren’t they lovely ? Oh, it’s so dark 
 here now; but to-morrow. ... No, no, no, you must 
 only look at the feet. Very well, I give you leave to look 
 at the rest too. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 H— m. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What are you looking so critical about ? Don’t you 
 think they would fit me ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 It is impossible I should have any settled opinion on 
 that point. 
 
 N ora (, looking at him a moment ). 
 
 F or shame {hits him lightly on the ear with the stock - 
 ings). Take that for it {puts them in the box again). 
 
 Rank. 
 
 And what other splendid things have you got there that 
 1 was to see ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You won’t be allowed 4o see anything more, for you 
 don’t behave nicely. ( She hums a little and searches 
 among the things. ) 
 
 Rank {after a short silence'). 
 
 When I am sitting here in such perfect intimacy with 
 you, I simply can’t imagine what would have become of 
 me if I had never entered this house. 
 
 Nora {smiling). 
 
 Yes, I really think you like being with us. 
 
 Rank {more softly , looking straight before him). 
 
 And now I must go away from it all. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nonsense. You won’t go away from us. 
 
 Rank {in the same tone). 
 
 And not be able to leave behind me the smallest sign 
 
NORA. 
 
 65 
 
 of thanks; scarcely a passing thought of regret — nothing 
 but an empty place that can be filled by the next comer as 
 well as by anybody else. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And if I were to ask you now for ... No. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 For what ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 For a great proof of your friendship. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Well, well ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, I mean — for a very, very great service. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Would you really for once make me so happy as that 
 would make me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, you have no notion yet what it is. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Very well ; please tell me directly. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But I can’t : it is such an extraordinarily great thing. 
 Not only a service, but advice and help besides. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 So much the better. I can’t imagine what you can 
 mean. But do go on. Don’t you trust me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, as I trust nobody else. You are my best and most 
 faithful friend. I know that. For that reason I will tell 
 you what it is. Well, then, Doctor Rank, you must help 
 me to hinder something. You know how deeply, how 
 indescribably Torvald loves me ; he would not hesitate a 
 moment to give his very life for mine. 
 
 Rank ( bending towards her ). 
 
 Nora, do you think, then, that he is the only one who 
 would — 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 NORA. 
 
 N ORA ( with slight hesitation ). 
 
 Who? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Who would gladly give his life for you ? 
 
 Nora {sadly). 
 
 Oh! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I had sworn that you should know it before I went away 
 for ever. I should never find a better opportunity. Yes, 
 Nora, now you know it. And now you know, too, that 
 you can trust yourself to me as you could to no one else. 
 
 Nora {stands up simply and calmly). 
 
 Let me pass, please. 
 
 Rank {makes way for her , but sits still). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 N ORA {in the door to the hall). 
 
 Ellen, bring the lamp. ( Walks to the stove.) Oh, dear 
 Doctor Rank, that was too bad of you. 
 
 Rank {standing up). 
 
 That I love you devotedly as no one else does ? Was 
 that too bad of me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; but that you should tell me so. It was really not 
 necessary. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 What do you mean ? Did you know it, then ? 
 
 Ellen {comes in with the lamp , sets it down on the table , 
 and goes out again). 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Nora, Mrs. Helmer, I ask you, did you know anything 
 of it ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, what do I know as to whether I knew or didn't 
 know? I really can’t say. . . But that you could possibly 
 be so clumsy. Everything was going on so beautifully. 
 
NORA. 
 
 67 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Well, at any rate you know now for certain that I am 
 quite at your disposal, soul and body. And now speak on. 
 
 Nora (looking at hint). 
 
 Speak on now ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I beg you to tell me what it is you want. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Now I can’t say anything more to you. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh dear, dear ! you must not punish me in that way. 
 Give me leave to do for you whatever is in a man’s 
 power. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You cannot do anything more for me now. And besides, 
 I want no help from any stranger. You shall see it was 
 all my imagination. Yes, mere imagination on my part. 
 Of course. (Sits in the rocking-chair, looks at him, 
 smiles .) Yes, you really are a charming gentleman, Doctor 
 Rank. Now just tell me, aren’t you ashamed of yourself 
 now that the lamp is on the table ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 No, indeed I am not. But perhaps I ought to go, and 
 for ever ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; you needn’t do that. You are to come to us as 
 you always have come. You know very well thatTorvald 
 can’ t do without you. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Yes ; but you ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, it always gives me the greatest pleasure to have 
 you with us. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 That is just what led me to mistake my path. You are 
 a riddle to me. It often seemed to me as though you 
 would almost as gladly spend your time with me as with 
 Heimer. 
 
68 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, — don’t you see? one loves one person, and likes 
 spending time with another. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Ah, there’s some truth in that. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 When I was still a girl at home, I naturally loved papa 
 beyond all else. But it always delighted me when I could 
 steal into the maids’ room ; for, in the first place, they never 
 lectured me, and in the second, it was always so merry 
 there. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, I see ; then it is their place I have taken. 
 
 Nora ( jumps up and hurries towards him). 
 
 Oh ! dear, good Doctor Rank, I never meant that. But 
 you can very well imagine that I feel about Torvald just 
 as I used to feel about father. 
 
 Ellen (coming from the hall). 
 
 Please, ma’am. ( Whispers in her ear arid gives her a 
 card.) 
 
 Nora (. glances at the card). 
 
 Ah ! ( Puts it in her pocket.) 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Something disagreeable up ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, not in the least. It is only — it is my new costume. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 How can it be ? It’s there. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, that one, yes ; but it’s another, that ... I ordered 
 it. . . Torvald is not to know. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Oh, indeed. So that’s the great secret. 
 
NORA. 
 
 69 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, to be sure. Do just go'into his room ; he is in the 
 one beyond that one ; do keep him as long as you can. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Make yourself easy ; he sha’n’t get away from me {goes 
 into H elmer’s room). 
 
 Nora {to Ellen). 
 
 Then he is waiting in the kitchen ? 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Yes ; he came to the back door. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But did you not tell him I had a visitor with me ? 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Yes, ma’am ; but it was no use. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He really will not go away, then ? 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 No, ma’am ; not until he has spoken with you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then let him come in, but quietly. And say nothing 
 about it, Ellen ; it is a surprise for my husband. 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Oh yes, ma’am ; I quite understand {goes). 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The terrible thing is coming. It is here already. No, 
 no, no ; it can never happen ; it shall not. {She goes to 
 H elmer’s door and slips the bolt . Ellen opens the hall 
 door to Krogstad, and shuts it behind him . He wears a 
 travelling coat , high boots , and a fur cap.) 
 
7 ° 
 
 NORA. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 Nora. Krogstad. 
 
 Nora (towards Aim .) 
 
 Speak quietly. My husband is at home, 
 
 Krogstad. j 
 All right ; I don’t care. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you want of me ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 An explanation of something. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Be quick, then. What is it ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 You know I have received my dismissal. 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 I could not prevent it, Mr. Krogstad. I fought to the last 
 on your behalf, but without success. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Does your husband love you so little ? He knows what 
 it is that I can do to injure you, and yet he dares — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How could you think I should tell him ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Goodness me ! I didn’t think that, either. To show 
 so much manly courage did not look much like my fine 
 Torvald Helmer. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Mr. Krogstad, I demand respect for my husband. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 To be sure; all due respect. But since you, dear 
 madam, are so anxious to keep the matter secret, I suppose 
 I may venture to assume that you are a little clearer than 
 you were yesterday as to what you have really done ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 7 1 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Clearer than you could ever make me. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Yes, such a bad lawyer as I am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What is it you want ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Only to see how you were getting on, Mrs. Helmer. I 
 have been thinking about you all day long. A cashier, a 
 disgraced newspaper writer, a — in short, a creature like 
 me, you know, has a little bit of what people call ‘ heart.’ 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then show it ; think of my little children. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Did you and your husband think of mine ? But let’s 
 leave that alone. I only wanted to tell you that you needn’t 
 take this matter too seriously. I sha’n’t be the first one to 
 talk about it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; to be sure. I knew you wouldn’t be. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 It can be settled as amiably as possible. Nobody need 
 know. It can remain among us three. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 My husband is never to know anything about it. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 How can you prevent that ? Can you pay off the debt, eh ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, not at once. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Or have you any means of raising the money in the next 
 few days ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No means that I will make use of. 
 
72 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And if you had, it would be no good to you now. If you 
 stood here with ever so much money in your hand you 
 wouldn’t get your I. O. U. back from me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Tell me what you want to do with it. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I only want to keep it, to have it in my own hands. No 
 stranger shall hear anything of it. If you were to form 
 any desperate resolution. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That I shall do. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 If you should think of leaving your husband and 
 children. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That I shall do. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Or if you should think of doing something far worse. . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How do you know that ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Never mind that. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How do you know I had that in my mind ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Most of us think of that as the first thing to do. I had 
 thought of it too ; but really had not the courage. 
 
 Nora ( voicelessly ). 
 
 Nor I. 
 
 Krogstad (relieved). 
 
 N o, one hasn’t. Y ou had not the courage either, had you ? 
 Nora. 
 
 I hadn’t, I hadn’t. 
 
NOHA. 
 
 73 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Besides, it would be very silly. When the first storm is 
 only over in the house ... I have a letter in my pocket for 
 your husband. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Telling him everything? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Sparing you as far as possible. 
 
 Nora {quickly). 
 
 He shall never have that letter. Tear it up. I will get 
 you the money somehow. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I beg your pardon, Mrs. Helmer; but I believe I have 
 already told you . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, I’m not talking about the money I owe you. Tell 
 me how large a sum you demand from my husband, and I 
 will get it for you. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I demand no money from your husband. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you want, then ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I will tell you. I want to get on in the world, dear 
 madam ; I want to redeem my position in it. And your 
 husband shall help me to do it. For the last eighteen 
 months I have not been concerned in any dishonourable 
 transaction ; during that time I have been fighting against 
 the most gloomy circumstances. I was content to work 
 my way up, step by step. Now I am turned out, and I 
 am not satisfied to get employment again as a matter of 
 favour. I mean to rise in the world, I tell you. . . I will 
 get into the Bank again — and in a higher position than 
 before. Your husband shall make a place on purpose for 
 me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He will never do that. 
 
74 
 
 nob, a. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 He will do it. I know him ; he won’t dare to refuse. 
 And when I am once associated with him there you will 
 soon see ! Before a year is out I shall be the manager’s 
 right hand. It won’t be Torvald Helmer but Nils Krogstad 
 who carries on the Joint Stock Bank. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You’ll never get to that point. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Perhaps you would . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; now I have the courage for it. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, you don’t frighten me. An elegant, spoilt lady like 
 you . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You will see, you will see. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Under the ice, perhaps. Down into the black cold 
 water. And then next spring be fished up on the shore, 
 ugly, unrecognisable, with your hair all fallen out . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You don’t frighten me. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Nor you me. People don’t do things of that sort, Mrs. 
 Helmer. And, after all, what would be the use of it? I 
 have your husband so completely here in my pocket. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Even then still ? When I am no longer — 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Do you forget that your good name after death is in my 
 hands ? 
 
 (N ORA stands speechless and looks at him.) 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Well, now you are prepared. Do nothing foolish. So 
 
NORA. 
 
 75 
 
 soon as Helmer has received my letter I shall expect to 
 hear from him. And bear in mind that it is your husband 
 himself who has forced me back again into such paths. 
 That I will never forgive him. .Good-bye, Mrs. Helmer 
 {goes through the halt). 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 
 Nora. Then Mrs. Linden. 
 
 N ORA {hurries to the door , opens it a little , and listens). 
 He is going. He is not putting the letter in the box. 
 No, no, it would be quite impossible. {Opens the door 
 further and further.) What does that mean? He is 
 standing still, not going down the stairs. Is he thinking 
 better of it ? Would he ? {A letter falls into the box ; 
 Krogstad’s steps are then heard until lost in the distance 
 down the stairs.) 
 
 N ORA {with a suppressed cry rushes through the room to 
 the sofa- table ; short pause). 
 
 In the letter-box {goes quietly and twiidly to the door). 
 There it lies. Torvald, Torvald, now we are lost. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {with the costume from the left room). 
 Yes, now I have got it into nice order again. Should 
 we just try it on ? 
 
 Nora {hoarsely and softly). 
 
 Christina, do come here. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {throws the dress on the sofa). 
 What’s the matter ? You look so disturbed. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do come here. Do you see the letter ? There, see, 
 through the wire-work of the letter-box. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, yes ; I see it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That letter is from Krogstad. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nora, it was Krogstad who lent you the money. 
 
76 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; and now Torvald will know all about it. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Believe me, Nora, it is the best thing for you both. 
 Nora. 
 
 You don’t know all yet. I have forged a name. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Good heavens ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I only wanted to tell you that, Christina ; you shall be 
 my witness. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 How 6 witness ’ ? What am I to — ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If I lose my mind, and that might easily happen. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Or if any other blow should strike me — anything such 
 as my not being here present. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nora, Nora, you don’t know what you’re saying. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 In case there were to be anybody who wanted to take 
 the . . . the whole blame, I mean . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, yes ; but how can you think . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then you will be able to bear witness that it is not true, 
 Christina. I know very well what I am saying. I am in 
 full possession of my senses ; and I say to you : Nobody 
 else knew anything about it; I alone have done every- 
 thing. Don’t forget that. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I won’t forget it. But I haven’t the remotest notion 
 what it all means. 
 
NORA. 
 
 77 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, how should you ? But a miracle will come to pass 
 even yet. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 A miracle ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, a miracle ; but it is so terrible, Christina. It must 
 not happen for anything in the world. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I will go to Krogstad at once and talk to him. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Don’t go to him. He will do you some injury. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 There was a time when for love of me he would have 
 done anything. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 He? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Where does he live ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, how can I tell ? Yes ( feels in her pocket) ; here I 
 have a card of his. But the letter, the letter. 
 
 SCENE X. 
 
 The Preceding. H elmer outside . 
 
 H ELMER (in his room knocks at the door). 
 
 Nora ! 
 
 Nora (cries out anxiously). 
 
 Yes ; what is it ? What do you want with me ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, well, don’t be so frightened. We aren’t coming 
 in ; you have bolted the door, you know. You are trying 
 your dress on, I dare say. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, yes; I’m trying it on. It suits me so well, 
 Torvald. 
 
78 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden (who has read the card). 
 
 Then he lives close by here, at the corner ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; but it , s no use now. We are lost. The letter is 
 actually in the box. 
 
 Mrs Linden. 
 
 And your husband has the key ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Always. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Krogstad must ask to have his letter back unread. He 
 must make some excuse — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But this is the very time when Torvald generally — 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Prevent him ; go and stay with him all the time. I will 
 come back as quickly as I can. ( She goes quickly away 
 through the entrance door. ) 
 
 Nora {goes to Helmer’s door, opens it, and peeps in). 
 Torvald. 
 
 SCENE XI. 
 
 Nora. Helmer. Then Rank. Later Mrs. 
 Linden and Ellen. 
 
 Helmer (in the back-rooni). 
 
 Well, now may one come back into one’s own room ? 
 Come, Rank, now we’ll just have a look (in the door). But 
 what is that ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What is what, Torvald dear? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Rank led me to expect a grand dress-transformation 
 scene. 
 
 Rank (in the door). 
 
 So I understood ; I was mistaken too. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; before to-morrow evening you will neither of you 
 get any opportunity Gf admiring me. 
 
NORA. 
 
 79 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 But, dear Nora, you look so tired. Have you been 
 practising too hard ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, I haven’t practised at all yet. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But you really must. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, it is quite indispensable, Torvald. But without 
 your help it won’t go on well ; I have forgotten everything. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh, we’ll soon freshen it all up again. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, do help me, Torvald. You promised me you 
 would, didn’t you ? Oh! I am so anxious about it. Before 
 such a large party . . . this evening you must devote to 
 me exclusively. No work allowed, no pen touched ! Say 
 ‘ yes.’ Am I not right, Torvald ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I promise you : all this evening I will be at your entire 
 disposal. You little helpless thing — hm, it is true ; but 
 I will first — ( Goes toward the hall door.) 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you want outside there ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Only to see if any letters have come. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, no, don’t do that, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But why not ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Torvald, I beg you not to ; there are none there. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Let me just see ( will go). 
 
 (Nora, at the piano, plays the first bars of the tarantella.) 
 
 Helmer ( standing still in the door). 
 
 Ah! 
 
8o 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I can’t dance to-morrow if I don’t practise with you 
 first. 
 
 H ELMER {going to her). 
 
 Are you really so afraid, dear Nora? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, so dreadfully afraid. Let me practise at once ; we 
 have a little time left before dinner. Oh ! sit down here 
 and accompany me, Torvald dear ; correct and teach me 
 
 if I . . . 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 With all the pleasure in life, since you wish it. {He sits 
 down to the piano i) 
 
 Nora {takes the tambourine , and a long gay shawl from 
 the box; drapes herself with the shawl very rapidly ; then 
 with a bound comes to the front of the stage). 
 
 Now you play and I will dance. (HELMER^Azys*, Nora 
 dances; Rank stands at the piano behind H elmer and 
 watches .) 
 
 H elmer {playing). 
 
 Slower, slower ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I can’t do it differently. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not so violently, Nora. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That is just its style. 
 
 Helmer {stops). 
 
 No, no ; it isn’t right. 
 
 N ora {laughs and swings the tambourine). 
 
 Didn’t I tell you so ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I will accompany you a little. 
 
 Helmer {rising). 
 
 Yes ; do so ; then I can correct her better. (Rank sits 
 down to the piano and plays. Nora dances more and more 
 wildly. Helmer stands by the fire and addresses frequent 
 remarks in correction during the dance. She seems not to 
 
NORA. 
 
 hear them. Her hair gets loose and falls on her shoulders ; 
 she does not heed it , but goes on dancing. Mrs. Linden 
 enters .) 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( stands as though spell-bound in the 
 
 doorway ). 
 
 Oh! 
 
 Nora {dancing'). 
 
 It is merry enough here, Christina. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 But, dearest Nora, you are dancing as if it were a matter 
 of life and death. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And so it is. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Rank, just stop ; this is the merest madness. . . Stop, 
 I say. (Rank stops playing, and Nora comes to a sudde?i 
 standstill .) 
 
 H ELMER {going towards her). 
 
 I should never have believed it. You have positively 
 forgotten the whole thing. 
 
 Nora {throws the tambourine away). 
 
 You see for yourself. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 You really do want teaching. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; now you see how needful it is. You must practise 
 with me up to the last moment. Will you, Torvald? 
 Helmer. 
 
 Certainly, certainly. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Neither to-day nor to-morrow must you think about 
 anything but me ; you must not open a single letter, not 
 so much as the letter-box. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh, you are still afraid of that man. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I am. 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 NORA. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Nora, I can see it in your manner. There is a letter 
 from him in the box now. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I don’t know ; I believe so. But you are not to read 
 anything of that sort — nothing of a worrying kind must 
 come between us until everything is over. 
 
 Rank ( softly to H elmer). 
 
 You mustn’t contradict her. 
 
 H ELMER putting his arm round her). 
 
 The child shall have her own way. But to-morrow 
 night, when you have danced — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then you will be free. 
 
 Ellen (in the left door). 
 
 Dinner is ready, ma’am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 We will have some champagne, Ellen. 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Yes, ma’am (goes). 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Dear, dear, quite a banquet ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, a champagne banquet until morning dawns. (Calls 
 out.) And maccaroons, Ellen — plenty — a great many — 
 just this once. 
 
 Helmer (taking her hands). 
 
 Come, come, not this awful wildness. Be my gentle 
 little lark once more. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, yes, I will. But now go into the dining-room ; and 
 you too, Doctor Rank. Christina, you must help me to 
 do my hair. 
 
 Rank (softly as they go). 
 
 There is nothing in the wind? Nothing . . I mean . . . 
 
NORA. 
 
 83 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nothing whatever, my dear Rank. It is merely this 
 babyish anxiety I was telling you about. ( Both go to the 
 right.') 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 He is gone out of town. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I saw it in your face. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 He only returns to-morrow evening. I left a note for 
 him there. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You should not have done that. You ought not to hinder 
 anything. After all, there is something glorious in ex- 
 pecting a miracle to happen. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 What do you expect, then ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, you can’t understand. Go to them in the dining- 
 room ; I’ll come in a moment. (Mrs. Linden goes to 
 the dining-room — right.) 
 
 SCENE XII. 
 
 Nora. Then Helmer. 
 
 Nora ( stands a while as though collecting her thoughts. 
 
 Then looks at her watch). 
 
 Five — seven hours before midnight. Then twenty- 
 four hours before the next midnight. Then the tarantella 
 will be over. Twenty-four and seven. Still thirty-one 
 hours to live. 
 
 Helmer (in the right-hand door). 
 
 But where is my little lark ? 
 
 Nora (runs with open arms towards him). 
 
 Here she is. 
 
 G 2 
 
8 4 
 
 NORA. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 THE SAME ROOM. 
 
 {The sofa-table is in the middle , together with the chairs 
 surrounding it. A lamp lit is on the table . The door to 
 the hall stands open. Dance-music is heard from over- 
 headi) 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Mrs. Linden sits by the table and turns the pages of a 
 book absently. She tries to read , but seems unable to fix 
 her attention ; she frequently listens and looks anxiously 
 towards the hall door. Then enter Krogstad. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {looking at her watch). 
 
 Not here yet. And it is the latest time I mentioned. 
 If he only doesn’t . . . {listens again). Oh, there he is ! 
 {She goes into the hall and opens the corridor-door care- 
 fully ; a light tread is heard on the steps. She whispers.) 
 Come in. Nobody is here. 
 
 Krogstad {in the door-way). 
 
 I found a note from you at my house. What does that 
 mean ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 It is absolutely necessary I should speak with you. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Indeed? And was it absolutely necessary the inter- 
 view should take place here ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 It was impossible at my lodgings. I have no sitting- 
 room to myself. Come in ; we are quite alone. The 
 servants are asleep, and the Helmers are at the ball next 
 door. 
 
 Krogstad {coming into the room). 
 
 Ah! what? The Helmers are dancing this evening? 
 Really ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 85 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes. Why not ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Quite right. Why not ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 And now, Mr. Krogstad, let us talk a little. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Have we anything left to say to each other ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 We have a great deal to say. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I should not have thought so. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Because you have never really understood me. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Was there anything more to understand than what was 
 clear as daylight? A heartless woman jilts a man when 
 a better match offers itself. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Do you consider me so utterly heartless ? Do you think 
 I should have broken it off with a light heart ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Didn’t you ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Did you really think that of me, Nils? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Then why did you write me such a letter as you wrote 
 at the time ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I really could not do otherwise. Since I had to break 
 with you, it surely was also my duty to destroy in your 
 heart everything you felt for me. 
 
 Krogstad (squeezing his hands together). 
 
 So that was it And all— all for the sake of money only. 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You ought not to forget that I had a helpless mother 
 
86 
 
 NORA. 
 
 and two little brothers. We could not wait for you, Nils ; 
 at that time you had but poor prospects. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Very likely ; but you had no right to turn me off for 
 the sake of any other man. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Oh, I don’t know. I have asked myself often enough 
 since whether I had the right to do it. 
 
 Krogstad {more gently). 
 
 When I had lost you, it seemed to me as though the 
 very ground had sunk away from under my feet. Just 
 look at me : I am a ship-wrecked man on a raft now. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I should think some help was close at hand. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 It was at hand ; but then you came and stood in my 
 way. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Without knowing it, Nils. It was only this morning 
 I learnt that it was your post I had got. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I believe you, since you say so. But now you do know 
 it, do you mean to give it up ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 No ; for that would not help you in the. least. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, ‘help,’ ‘help.’ I should do it whether or no. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Life and hard, bitter necessity have taught me to act 
 prudently. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And life has taught me not to trust fine speeches. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Then life has taught you a very sensible thing. But I 
 suppose you do trust deeds ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 What do you mean by that ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 87 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You said you were a shipwrecked man on a raft. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I have good reason to say so. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I too have suffered shipwreck, and am on a raft. 
 Krogstad. 
 
 You made your own choice. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I had no choice at the time. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Well, what more ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nils, how would it be if we two shipwrecked people could 
 belong to each other ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 What are you saying ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Two people have better chance of being saved on a raft 
 than if each stays on his own. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Christina ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Why do you think I came here, to town ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Was it with some thought of me ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I must work in order to endure life. I have worked 
 from my youth up, and work has been my one best friend. 
 But now I am quite alone in the world — so terribly empty 
 and forsaken. There is no happiness in working for 
 oneself. Nils, give me somebody and something to 
 work for. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I don’t believe a word of it. It is nothing but a woman’s 
 exaggerated notion of self-sacrifice. 
 
88 
 
 WOE* A. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Have you ever noticed any exaggeration in me ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 What ! You really could ? Tell me, do you know my 
 past ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And do you know my reputation ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Did you not hint it just now, when you said that with 
 me you could have been another man ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I am perfectly certain of it. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Could it not yet be so ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Christina, do you say this after full deliberation ? Yes, 
 you do. I see it in your face. Then you really have the 
 courage ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I need somebody to mother, and your children need a 
 mother. We two are necessary to each other. Nils, I 
 believe in the nobler part of your nature. With you I dare 
 attempt anything ! 
 
 Krogstad ( seizing her hands ). 
 
 Thank you, thank you, Christina. Now I shall know 
 how to set about raising myself in the eyes of others. Oh, 
 but I forgot . . . 
 
 Mrs. Linden [ listens ). 
 
 Hush ! the tarantella ! Go, go. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Why, what is it? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Don’t you hear the dancing overhead ? When that is 
 over they will come back. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 All right ; I’ll go. But it’s too late now. Of course 
 
NORA. 
 
 89 
 
 you don’t know what it is I have set going against the 
 Helmers ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, Nils, I know. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 And nevertheless you have the courage to — 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I can very well comprehend to what lengths despair 
 may drive a man like you. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, if I could but undo my share in it ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You can, for your letter lies there in the box. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Does it really ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; but . . . 
 
 Krogstad ( looking at her searching ly). 
 
 Is that the explanation of it ? You wanted to save your 
 friend at any price. Say it straight out. Is that the way 
 the land lies ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nils, a person who has once sold herself for the sake of 
 others never does it again. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I will ask to have my letter back again. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 No, no. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Yes ; I shall stop here till Helmer comes. I shall ask 
 to have my letter back ; I shall tell him it merely relates 
 to my dismissal, and that he had better not read it. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 No, Nils, you must not ask for the letter back. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 But tell me, wasn’t that the very reason for your bidding 
 me come here ? 
 
90 
 
 NOR, A. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, in my first moment of terror. But since then more 
 than twenty-four hours have gone by, and during that 
 time I have heard things in this house that are beyond 
 belief. Helmer must know everything ; between those 
 two there must be the completest possible understanding, 
 and that can never come to pass while all these excuses 
 and concealments are going on. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Very well, since you are so bold. But in any case, 
 there is one thing I can do, and it shall be done at 
 once. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {listens). 
 
 Make haste ; go, go. The dance is over ; we are not 
 safe another moment. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 I will wait for you in the street, in front here. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, do. You must take me home. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh ! I never was so happy in all my life before. {Goes. 
 The door between the room and the hall remains open 
 during the following. ) 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. Then Helmer #^Nora. 
 
 Mrs. Linden {sets the furniture a little straight and puts 
 her walking things together ). 
 
 What a change ! what a happy change, to have some- 
 body to work for, to live for ! to bring loving order into 
 a deserted home ! Yes, that is what I will do. . . . If they 
 came soon {listens). Ah, here they are ! Where are my 
 things? {Takes bonnet and cloak. Helmer’s and Nora’s 
 voices are heard ; a key is turned in the lock , and Helmer 
 drags Nora almost violently into the hall. She wears 
 the Italian costume with a large black shawl over it. 
 He is in evening dress , with an open black domino.) 
 
NORA. 
 
 9i 
 
 Nora {still in the door , struggling with him). 
 
 No, no, no ; I won’t go in ; I want to go up-stairs again. 
 I don’t want to leave the ball so early. . : 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 But, dearest Nora — 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, I do beg you so imploringly, so earnestly, Torvald — 
 only one more hour. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Not another minute, Nora dear. You know we settled 
 it should be this way. Come, go into the room ; you are 
 catching cold here. {He leads her gently into the room in 
 spite of her resistance .) 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Good evening. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Christina ! 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 What, Mrs. Linden, you here so late ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, pardon me; I did so want to see Nora in her 
 costume. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Have you been sitting here waiting for me ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes. Unfortunately I did not come early enough. You 
 were already gone up-stairs, and then I did not wish to go 
 away again without seeing you. 
 
 H ELMER {taking Nora’s shawl off). 
 
 Well, then, just look at her, but quietly. I think she 
 is worth looking at. Is she not beautiful, Mrs. Linden ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, I must say — 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Is she not wonderfully lovely ? That was the general 
 opinion at the ball. But she is dreadfully obstinate, — 
 dear little creature ! What is to be done with her ? Will 
 
92 
 
 NORA. 
 
 you believe it, I had almost to use force to get her away 
 from the ball ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, Torvald, you will be sorry you did not let me stop 
 at least half an hour longer. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 There ! you hear her, Mrs. Linden ? She dances her 
 tarantella, wins wild applause, — which, however, w r as 
 but due to her, although perhaps her rendering was a 
 little too realistic ; I mean ... a little more than could 
 be reconciled with the strict demands of art. But be that 
 as it may, the chief thing was she got applauded, wildly 
 applauded. Ought I to have let her stay any longer, 
 and weaken the impression ? Not if I know it. I took 
 my charming Capri maiden, I might say my capricious 
 maiden from Capri, under my arm ; a rapid turn round the 
 room ; bows from all sides, and, as they say in novels — 
 the lovely apparition was gone. A departure should 
 always be effective, Mrs. Linden ; but I can't get Nora to 
 see i;. . . By Jove, it's warm here. {Throws his domino 
 on a chair and opens the door to his room.) What ? It’s 
 very dark here. Yes, of course; pardon me. {He goes 
 inside and lights two candles.) 
 
 Nora {whispers quickly and breathlessly ). 
 Well? 
 
 Mrs. Linden {softly). 
 
 I have spoken to him. 
 
 And—? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Nora. . . You must tell your husband everything. 
 
 I knew it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 You have nothing to fear from Krogstad, but you must 
 speak. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I shall not speak. 
 
NOHA. 
 
 93 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Then the letter will. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Thank you, Christina. Now I know what I must do. 
 Hush! 
 
 H ELMER (coming back). 
 
 Well, Mrs. Linden, have you admired her? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes ; and now I will say good night. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What, already? Does this knitting belong to you? 
 
 Mrs. Linden ( taking it ). 
 
 Yes, thanks ; I was nearly forgetting it. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then you do knit ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Do you know, you ought to crochet instead ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Indeed ! Why ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Because it looks better. Look now. You hold the 
 crochet work in the left hand in this way, and then move 
 the needle about with the right hand — in and out — in an 
 easy, long-shaped bow, don’t you ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Yes, I dare say you do. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 While in knitting, on the contrary, it always looks ugly. 
 Look now, your arms are bent tightly together, and the 
 needles go up and down ; there is something Chinese in 
 it. . . Oh ! that really was splendid champagne we had 
 at the ball. 
 
94 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Now, good night, Nora, and don’t be obstinate any 
 more. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Well said, Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Good night, Mr. Helmer. 
 
 H elmer ( going with her to the door). 
 
 Good night, good night. I hope you’ll get safely home. 
 I would gladly . . . but it really is not far for you. Good 
 night, good night. {She goes. He shuts the door behind 
 her and comes to the front of the stage again.) 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Helmer. Nora. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 There, now we’ve shut the door on her. She is an 
 awful bore. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Aren’t you very tired, Torvald? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No, not in the least. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 N or sleepy ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not a bit. On the contrary, I feel most lively. But 
 you ? Yes, you look really tired and sleepy. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I am very tired. I shall soon be asleep now. 
 Helmer. 
 
 There now, you see. I was right, after all, in not 
 stopping longer with you at the ball. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, all is right that you do. 
 
 Helmer ( kisses her on the forehead). 
 
 That is my dear little lark speaking like a human 
 
NORA. 
 
 95 
 
 being. Did you happen to notice, too, how merry Rank 
 was this evening ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, was he really ? I had no opportunity of speaking 
 with him. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nor had I, much ; but I have not seen him in such 
 good spirits for a long time. ( Looks at her fora little while , 
 then comes nearer to her.) Hm . . . but it is quite too 
 supremely delightful to be back in our own home, for me 
 to be quite alone with you. Oh, you enchanting, glorious 
 woman ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Don’t look at me in that way, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I am not to look at my dearest treasure ? — all the glory 
 that is mine, mine only, wholly and altogether mine. 
 
 Nora {goes to the other side of the table t ). 
 
 You must not talk to me in that way this evening. 
 
 Helmer {following her). 
 
 I see, you have the tarantella still in your blood ; and 
 that makes you more enchanting than ever. Listen : the 
 other guests are beginning to go now. {More softly .) 
 Nora, soon all the house will be still. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I hope so. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes ; don’t you, Nora darling ? Oh, do you know, when 
 I go into society with you in this way, do you know why 
 I speak so little to you, and keep at such a distance from 
 you, and only steal a glance at you now and then — do you 
 know why I do it? Because I am fancying that you are 
 one whom I love in secret, that I am secretly betrothed 
 to you, and that nobody guesses there is any particular 
 understanding between us. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, yes, yes ; I know very well that all your thoughts 
 are with me. 
 
9 s 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And then, when we have to go home, and I put the 
 shawl about your dear young shoulders, and this glorious 
 throat of yours, I imagine you are my bride, and that we 
 are coming straight from our wedding, and that I am 
 bringing you for the first time to my home, and that I am 
 alone with you for the first time, quite alone with you, you 
 shy, beautiful thing. All this evening I was longing for 
 you, and you only. When I watched you chasing and 
 beckoning during the tarantella, it seemed to set my 
 blood on fire ; I could endure it no longer . . . and that : s 
 why I made you come home with me so early. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Go now, Torvald ; you must leave me alone. I don’t 
 want all that. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What can you mean ? You must be joking with me, 
 my pet. You don’t want .... Am I not your husband? 
 {A knock.') 
 
 Nora ( with a start). 
 
 Do you hear ? 
 
 Helmer ( at the hall door).. 
 
 Who is there ? 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The Preceding. Rank. 
 
 Rank {outside). 
 
 It is I. May I come in for a moment? 
 
 Helmer {in a low tone , annoyed). 
 
 Oh, dear, what can he want at this time of night ? 
 {Aloud.) Wait a little. {Goes and opens the door.) Come, 
 it is nice of you not to pass by our door. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I thought I heard your voices, and that made me long 
 just to look in. {Glances rapidly ?'ound the room.) Yes, 
 here is the dear place I know so well. It is so quiet and 
 comfortable here with you two. 
 
NORA. 
 
 97 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You seemed to enjoy yourself exceedingly up-stairs too. 
 Rank. 
 
 Exceedingly. Why should I not ? Why shouldn’t one 
 get enjoyment out of everything in this world ? At any 
 rate as much and as long as one can. The wine was 
 splendid. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Especially the champagne. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Did you notice it too? It was perfectly incredible the 
 quantity I contrived to drink. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Torvald drank a great deal of champagne this evening 
 too. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Did he ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; and after it he is always in such a good temper. 
 Rank. 
 
 Well, why should one not have a merry evening after a 
 well-spent day ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well-spent? As to that I have not much to boast of. 
 
 Rank ( tapping him on the shoulder ). 
 
 But I have, don’t you see ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then you have certainly been engaged in some scientific 
 investigation, Doctor Rank. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Quite right. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Just see ! Nora talks about scientific investigations. 
 Nora. 
 
 And am I to congratulate you on the result ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 By all means you must. 
 
 H 
 
9 8 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Then the result was a good one. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 The best possible, alike for the physician and the 
 patient — namely, certainty. 
 
 Nora ( quickly and searchingly). 
 
 Certainty ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Complete certainty. Ought not I, upon the strength of 
 it, to be very merry this evening ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, you were quite right to be, Doctor Rank. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 I say the same — provided you don’t have to pay for it 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Well, in this life nothing is to be had for nothing. 
 Nora. 
 
 Doctor Rank, I am sure you are very fond of masquerade 
 balls.j 
 
 Rank. 
 
 When there are plenty of interesting masks present, I 
 certainly am. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Listen, and tell me what we two ought to appear as at 
 our next masquerade.j 
 
 fHELMER. 
 
 You giddy little thing, are you thinking already about 
 your next ball ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 We two? I will tell you. You must go as the lucky 
 fairy. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yes ; but think of a costume to suit the character. 
 Rank. 
 
 Let your wife appear in her every-day dress. 
 
NORA. 
 
 99 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Very nicely said. But what character will you take ? 
 Rank. 
 
 I am perfectly clear as to that, my dear friend ? 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well ? 
 
 Rank. 
 
 At the next masquerade I shall appear invisible. 
 Helmer. 
 
 What a comical idea ! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 Don’t you know there is a big, black hat — haven’t you 
 heard stories of the hat that made people invisible ? You 
 pull it all over you, and then nobody sees you. 
 
 Helmer ( with a suppressed smile). 
 
 Oh, I dare say. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 But I am quite forgetting why I came in here. Helmer, 
 just give me a cigar — one of the dark Havannas. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 With the greatest pleasure (hands him the case). 
 
 Rank (takes one and cuts the end off). 
 
 Thanks. 
 
 N ORA (hands him a fusee). 
 
 Here is a light. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 A thousand thanks. (She holds the match. He lights 
 his cigar at it.) And now good-bye. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Good-bye, good-bye, my dear fellow. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Sleep well, Doctor Rank. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 I thank you for that kind wish. 
 
 H 2 
 
IOO 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Wish me the same. 
 
 Rank. 
 
 You ? Very well, since you ask me to — sleep well. And 
 thank you for the light. {He nods to them both and goes.) 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Helmer. Nora. Later Ellen. 
 
 H elmer {in an undertone). 
 
 He’s been drinking a good deal to-night. 
 
 N ORA {absently). 
 
 I dare say. (Helmer takes his bunch of keys from his 
 pocket and goes into the hall.) Torvald, what are you 
 doing out there ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I must empty the letter-box — it is quite full ; or to- 
 morrow there will be no room for the newspapers. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Are you going to do some work now ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not very likely ! What’s this ? Somebody’s been at the 
 lock. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 The lock ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Positively. What does it mean ? I can’t suspect that 
 the servants. . . Here’s a broken hair-pin. Nora, it is 
 one of yours. 
 
 N ORA {quickly). 
 
 Then it must have been the children. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then you really must break them of such tricks. Hm, 
 hm. There! at last I’ve got it open. [Takes the contents 
 out and calls into the kitchen.) Ellen, Ellen ; just put the 
 hall door lamp out. {He returns to the room and shuts the 
 
NORA. 
 
 IOI 
 
 door into the hall. With letters in his hand.) Just see ! 
 only look how they have accumulated. {Looks among 
 them. ) What’ s that ? 
 
 N ORA (at the window). 
 
 The letter ! oh, no, no, Torvald ! 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Two visiting cards — from Rank. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 From Doctor Rank ? 
 
 H ELMER (looking at them). 
 
 Rank, M.D. They were on the top. He must have 
 just put them in. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Is there anything on them ? 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Over the name there is a black cross. Look at it. That 
 is a very ominous sign. Upon my word it is as though he 
 were announcing his own death. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 So he is. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 What ! do you know anything ? did he tell you any- 
 thing ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes. He said that when the card came it would mean 
 he had taken leave of us. He means to shut himself up 
 and die. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Poor fellow ! I did know that we should not be able to 
 keep him much longer. But so soon ! . . And then he 
 goes into his hiding-place like a wounded animal. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 If it has to happen it is best for it to happen without 
 words ; is it not, Torvald ? 
 
 Helmer (walking up and down). 
 
 He was so thoroughly intimate with us. I can hardly 
 fancy our life without him. He and his troubles and 
 
102 
 
 NORA. 
 
 loneliness formed a sort of cloudy background to our 
 sunny happiness. Well, perhaps it is best so — for him, 
 at any rate {stands still). And perhaps for us too. Now 
 we two are thrown entirely upon each other. {Puts his 
 arm round her.) My darling wife ! it seems to me as 
 if I could never hold you closely enough. Do you know, 
 Nora, I often wish some danger might threaten you, 
 against which I could stake body and soul, and all, all else, 
 for your dear sake. 
 
 Nora {frees herself and says fir?nly and decidedly). 
 Now you shall read your letters, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No, no, not to-night. I want to stay with you, sweet 
 wife. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 With the thought of your friend’s death ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You are right, dear. It has shaken us both. Some- 
 thing unlovely has come between us : thoughts of death 
 and dissolution. We must try to get rid of them. Till 
 then — you go to bed, and I will go to my room a little. 
 
 N ORA {her arms round his neck). 
 
 Torvald, good night, good night. 
 
 Helmer {kisses her on the forehead). 
 
 Good night, my little singing bird. Sleep well, Nora. 
 Now I will go and read all my letters through. {He goes 
 with the bundle of letters into his room and shuts the door 
 behind him.) 
 
 Nora {with wild glances, wanders round touching things, 
 seizes H ELMER’S domino , throws it over her , and whispers 
 quietly , hoarsely , and brokenly). 
 
 Never see him again. Never, never, never. {Throws 
 her shawl over her head.) And never see the children 
 again. Not them, either. Never, never. Oh, that black, 
 icy water ! Oh, that bottomless. . . Oh, if it were but 
 over ! Now he has it ; now he is reading it. Oh, no, no ; 
 not yet. Torvald, good-bye, you and the children. {She 
 
NORA. 
 
 103 
 
 is rushing out through the hall; in the same moment 
 H elmer tears his door open and stands there with an open 
 letter in his hand. ) 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 N ora ! 
 
 Nora (crying aloud). 
 
 Ah! 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 What is this ? Do you know what is in this letter ? 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, I know. Let me go ; let me go out. 
 
 H elmer (holding her back). 
 
 Where do you want to go to ? 
 
 Nora (tries to get free). 
 
 You sha’n’t save me, Torvald. 
 
 H ELMER (falling back). 
 
 True ! is it true what he writes? Horrible ! No, no ; 
 it is perfectly impossible ; it cannot be true. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It is true. I have loved you beyond all else in the 
 world. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Don’t come to me with silly excuses. 
 
 Nora (a step nearer to him). 
 
 Torvald ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You miserable creature — what have you done ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Let me go. You shall not suffer for it ; you shall not 
 take it upon yourself. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Don’t try any actress’s tricks (shuts the door to the hall). 
 Here you will stay and abide my judgment. Do you com- 
 prehend what you have done? Answer. Do you under- 
 stand it ? 
 
io4 
 
 NORA. 
 
 N ORA ( looks at him fixedly , and says with heightened 
 expression ). 
 
 Yes. Now I begin to understand it quite. 
 
 H ELMER {walking round). 
 
 Oh, what an awful awakening ! During all these eight 
 years — you who were my pride and my joy — a hypocrite, 
 a liar, — ay, and worse, worse — a criminal. Oh ! what an 
 abyss of unloveliness it implies ! Ugh ! ugh ! 
 
 (Nora is silent , and continues to look fixedly at him.) 
 
 H ELMER {continues standing before her.) 
 
 I ought to have guessed that something of the kind 
 was sure to happen. I ought to have foreseen it. Your 
 father’s low principles, — be silent! — your father’s low prin- 
 ciples you have inherited, every one of them. No religion, 
 no morality, no sense of duty. Oh, how bitterly punished 
 I am for ever having winked at his doings. I did it for 
 your sake ; and this the way you reward me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, just so. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You have utterly destroyed my happiness ; you have 
 annihilated my whole future. Oh, the thought of it is 
 fearful ! I find I am in the power of a human being who 
 is devoid of conscience ; he can do whatever he pleases 
 with me, ask of me whatever he chooses, order me about 
 and command me exactly as it suits him — I must put up 
 with it in silence. . . And I must sink in this pitiable way 
 and go to ruin for the sake of an unprincipled woman. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 When I am no more you will be free. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No fine phrases, if you please. That’s the kind of thing 
 your father was always ready with. What sort of good 
 would it do me if you were ‘no more/ as you say? No 
 good in the world ! In spite of that he can publish the 
 whole story ; and if he does publish it, perhaps I should 
 be suspected of having been a party to your criminal 
 transactions. Perhaps people will think I was the origin- 
 
NORA. 
 
 105 
 
 ator, that I prompted you to do it. And for all this I have 
 you to thank— you whom during the whole of our married 
 life I have so cherished. Do you understand now what 
 it is you have done to me ? 
 
 Nora ( with cold cahn). 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 It is so incredible that I can still hardly believe it. But 
 I must come to some de ision. Take that shawl off. 
 Take it off, I say ! I must try to pacify him in one 
 way or the other. The story muM be kept a secret, cost 
 what it may. And as far as you and I are concerned, it 
 must appear that we go on as we always have gone on. 
 But of course only in the eyes of the world. Of course 
 you will continue to live in the house ; that is understood. 
 But the children I shall not allow you to educate ; I dare 
 not trust them to you. . . Oh, that I should have to say 
 this to one whom I have so tenderly loved . . . whom I 
 still . . . But that must be a thing of the past. Hence- 
 forward there can be no question of happiness, but merely 
 of saving the ruins, the fragments, the appearance of it. 
 {A ring. Helmer recovers himself l) What’s that? So 
 late ! Can it be the most terrible thing of all ? Can he ? 
 — hide yourself, Nora; say you are ill. (Nora stands 
 motionless . Helmer goes to the door and opens it.) 
 
 Ellen ( half-undressed in the hall). 
 
 Here is a letter for mistress. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Give it to me [seizes the letter and shuts the door). Yes, 
 from him. You will not have it. I shall read it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Read it. 
 
 Helmer [by the lamp). 
 
 I have hardly courage to. Perhaps we are lost, both 
 you and I. Ah ! I must know [tears the letter hastily 
 open ; looks at an enclosure ; a cry of joy). N ora ! 
 
io6 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 (Nora looks interrogatively at him.) 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Nora ! Indeed I must read it again. Yes, yes ; it is 
 so. I am saved ! Nora, I am saved ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And I ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You too, of course; we are both saved, you and I. 
 Look here. He sends you back your acknowledgment of 
 the debt ; he writes that he regrets and laments — that a 
 happy turn in his life — Oh, it can’t matter to us what he 
 writes. We are saved, Nora ! Nobody has any hold over 
 you. Oh, Nora, Nora ! Ah, but first let us destroy all 
 these horrible pieces of writing. . . . Pll just see, though 
 {glances at the I. O. U.). No, I won’t look at it ; the whole 
 thing shall be no more to me than a bad dream. ( Tears 
 the I. O. U. and both the letters in two , throws ihe?n i?ito 
 the fire> and watches them burn.') There, it has no further 
 existence. He wrote that ever since Christmas Day you 
 had been . . . Oh, Nora, they must have been three awful 
 days for you ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I have fought a hard fight in the last three days. 
 Helmer. 
 
 What tortures you must have suffered, without having 
 any other means of escape than . . . but we won’t think 
 about those ugly things any more ; we will only rejoice 
 and repeat: It is all over, all over. Don’t you hear? 
 Somehow, Nora, you don’t seem able to grasp it yet ! 
 Yes, it’s over. Then what can be the meaning of this set 
 look on your face ? Oh, poor dear Nora, I quite under- 
 stand : you can’t believe just yet that I have forgiven you. 
 But I really have forgiven you, Nora ; I swear it to you ; 
 I have forgiven you everything. I know so well you did 
 it all out of love to me. 
 
 That is true. 
 
 Nora. 
 
NORA. 
 
 107 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 You loved me just as a wife should love her husband. 
 It was only the means you could not judge rightly about. 
 But do you think you are less dear to me for not know- 
 ing how to act alone ? No, indeed ; only lean on me ; I 
 will advise and guide you. I should be no true man if it 
 were not just this woman’s helplessness that makes you 
 doubly attractive in my eyes. You must not dwell on the 
 harsh words I spoke in my first moment of terror, when I 
 believed ruin was about to crush my very life out. I 
 have forgiven you, Nora ; I swear to you I have forgiven 
 you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I thank you fcr your forgiveness {goes through the left 
 door), 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No, stay {looks in). What are you doing in the 
 alcove ? 
 
 Nora {inside). 
 
 Taking off my masquerade dress. 
 
 Helmer {in the open door). 
 
 Yes, do, dear ; try to rest and restore your mind to its 
 balance, my scared little song-bird. You may go to rest 
 in comfort ; I have broad wings to protect you {walks 
 round by the door). Oh, how beautiful and cosy our home 
 is, Nora. Here you are safe ; here I can shelter you like 
 a hunted dove, whom I have saved from the claws of the 
 hawk. I shall soon quiet your poor beating heart. 
 Believe me, Nora, gradually peace will return. To-morrow 
 all this will look quite different to you ; I shall not need 
 to repeat over and over again that I forgive you : you will 
 feel for yourself that it is true. How can you think I 
 could ever bring my heart to drive you away, or even so 
 much as reproach you ? Oh, you don’t know what a true 
 man’s heart is made of, Nora ! A man feels there is some- 
 thing indescribably sweet and soothing in his having for- 
 given his wife, that he has honestly forgiven her from the 
 bottom of his heart. She becomes his property in a double 
 sense, as it were. She is as though born again ; she has 
 
io8 
 
 NORA. 
 
 become to a certain extent at once his wife and his child. 
 And that is what you shall really be to me henceforth, you 
 ill-advised and helpless darling. Don’t be anxious about 
 anything, Nora : only open your heart to me, and I will 
 be both will and conscience to you. Why, what’s this ? 
 Not gone to bed ? You have changed your dress. 
 
 Nora ( entering in her everyday dress). 
 
 Yes, Torvald ; now I have changed my dress. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But why, now it is so late ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I shall not sleep to-night. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But, Nora dear . . . 
 
 N ORA ( looking at her watch). 
 
 It is not so very late. Sit down here, Torvald. We 
 two have much to say to each other (she sits on one side of 
 the table). 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, what does that mean ? Your cold, set face ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Sit down ; it will take some time. I have to talk over 
 many things with you. 
 
 Helmer (sitting opposite to her at the table). 
 
 Nora, you make me anxious ... I don’t in the least 
 understand you. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Just so. You don’t understand me. And in the same 
 way I have never understood you, till to-night. No, don’t 
 interrupt me. Only listen to what I say . . . This is a 
 breaking off, Torvald. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 How do you mean ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 iog 
 
 Nora ( after a short silence). 
 
 Does not one thing strike you as we sit here ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What should strike me ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 We have now been married eight years. Does it not 
 strike you that to-night for the first time we two, you and 
 I, husband and wife, are speaking together seriously ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well ; ‘ seriously,’ what does that mean ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 During eight whole years and more, since the day 
 we first made each other’s acquaintance, we have never 
 exchanged one serious word about serious things. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Ought I, then, to have persistently initiated you into 
 difficulties you could not help me by sharing ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I am not talking of difficulties. All I am saying is, that 
 we have never yet seriously talked any one thing over 
 together. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But, dearest Nora, would it have been any good to you 
 if we had ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That is the very point. You have never understood 
 me. ... I have been greatly wronged, Torvald. First 
 by father and then by you. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What ! by us two, by us two — who have loved you more 
 deeply than all others have ? 
 
 N ORA ( shakes her head). 
 
 You two have never loved me. You only thought it 
 was pleasant to be in love with me. 
 
I IO 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But, Nora, these are strange words. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; it is just so, Torvald. While I was still at home 
 with father, he used to tell me all his views, and so of 
 course I held the same views ; if at any time I had a 
 different view I concealed it, because he would not have 
 liked people with opinions of their own. He used to call 
 me his little doll, and play with me, as I in my turn used to 
 play with my dolls. Then I came to live in your house. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What expressions you do use to describe our marriage ! 
 Nora ( undisturbed ). 
 
 / I mean — then I passed over from father’s hands into 
 yours. You settled everything according to your taste ; 
 or I did only what you liked; I don’t exactly know. I 
 think it was both ways, first one and then the other. 
 When I look back on it now it seems to me as if I had 
 been living here like a poor man, only from hand to 
 mouth. I lived by performing tricks for you, Torvald. 
 But you would have it so. You and father have sinned 
 greatly against me. It is the fault of you two that nothing 
 has been made of me. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 How senseless and ungrateful you are. . . Haven't you 
 been happy here ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, never ; I thought I was, but I never was. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Not . . . not happy? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No; only merry. And you were always so friendly 
 and kind to me. But our house has been nothing but 
 a nursery. Here I have been your doll-wife, just as at 
 home I used to be papa’s doll-child. And my children 
 
NORA. 
 
 in 
 
 were, in their turn, my dolls. I was exceedingly delighted 
 when you played with me, just as the children were when- 
 ever I played with them. That has been our marriage, 
 Torvald. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 There is some truth in what you say, exaggerated and 
 overdrawn though it may be. But henceforth it shall be 
 different. The time for play is gone by ; now comes the 
 time for education. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Whose education — mine or the children’s? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Yours, as well as the children’s, dear Nora. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, Torvald, you are not the man to educate me into 
 being the right wife for you. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And you say that ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 And I — how have I been prepared to educate the 
 children ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 N ora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Did you not say just now yourself that that was a task 
 you dared not entrust to me ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 In a moment of excitement. How can you lay any 
 stress upon that ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; you were perfectly right. For that task I am not 
 ready. There is another which must be performed first. 
 I must first try to educate myself. In that you are not 
 the man to help me. I must set to work alone : you are 
 
1 12 
 
 N OB A. 
 
 not the man to help me with it. I must do it alone. And 
 that is why I am going away from you now. 
 
 H ELMER ( jumping up ). 
 
 What — what are you saying ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I must be thrown entirely upon myself if I am to come 
 to any understanding as to what I am and what the things 
 around me are : so I cannot stay with you any longer. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 N ora, N ora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I shall now leave your house at once. Christina will, 
 I am sure, take me in for to-night. . . . 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 You are insane. I shall not allow that ; I forbid it. 
 Nora. 
 
 From this time it is useless for you to forbid me things. 
 Whatever belongs to me I shall take with me. I will have 
 nothing from you either now or later on. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 What utter madness this is ! 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 To-morrow I shall go home — I mean to my birthplace. 
 There it will be easier for me to get something to do of 
 one sort or another. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Oh, you blind, inexperienced creature ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I must try to gain experience, Torvald. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 To forsake your home, your husband, and your children ! 
 And only think what people will say about it. 
 
NORA. 
 
 1 13 
 
 N ORA. 
 
 I cannot take that into consideration. I only know 
 that to go is necessary for me. 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Oh, it drives one wild ! Is this the way you can evade 
 your holiest duties ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What do you consider my holiest duties ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Do I need to tell you that ? Are they not your duties 
 to your husband and your children ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I have other duties equally sacred. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 No, you have not. What duties do you mean ? 
 Nora. 
 
 Duties towards myself. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Before all else you are a wife and mother. 
 
 J 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I no longer think so. I think that before all else I am 
 a human being just as you are, or at least I will try to 
 become one. I know very well that most people agree 
 with you, Torvald, and what is to be found in books. 
 But I cannot be satisfied any longer with what most 
 people say, and with what is in books. I must think over 
 things for myself, and try to get clear about them. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Is it possible you are not clear about your position in 
 your own family ? Have you not in questions like these a 
 guide who cannot err ? Have you not religion ? 
 
NORA. 
 
 1 14 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, Torvald, I don’t know what religion is. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What are you saying ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I know nothing but what our clergyman told me when 
 I was confirmed. He explained that religion was this and 
 that. When I have got quite away from here, and am all 
 by myself, then I will examine that matter too. I will 
 see whether what our clergyman taught is true ; or, at 
 any rate, whether it is true for me. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Who ever heard such things from a young wife’s lips ? 
 But if religion cannot lead you to the right, let me appeal 
 to your conscience : for I suppose you have some moral 
 feeling ? Or, answer me, perhaps you have none ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Well, Torvald, I think I had better not answer you. I 
 really don’t know. About those things I am not at all 
 clear. I only know that I have quite a different opinion 
 about them from yours. I have now learnt too that the 
 laws are different from what I thought they were ; but I 
 can’t convince myself that they are right. It appears that 
 a woman has no right to spare her father trouble when he 
 is old and dying, or to save her husband’s life. I don’t 
 believe that. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You talk like a child. You don’t understand the society 
 in which you live. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, no more I do. But now I will set to work and 
 learn it. I must make up my mind whether society is 
 right or whether I am. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, you are ill, you are feverish ; I almost think you 
 are out of your senses. 
 
NORA. 
 
 ”5 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I never felt so clear and certain about things as I feel 
 to-night. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And feeling clear and certain, you forsake husband and 
 children ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; I do. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then there is only one possible explanation of it. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What is that ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 You no longer love me. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No ; that is just the thing. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 N ora ! . . . Can you bring yourself to say so ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Oh, I’m so sorry, Torvald; for you have always been 
 so kind to me. But I can't help it. I do not love you 
 any longer. 
 
 Helmer ( keeping his composure with difficulty ). 
 
 Is this another of the things you are clear and certain 
 about ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes, quite. That is why I will not stay here any 
 longer. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And can you also explain to me how I have lost your 
 love ? 
 
1 16 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Yes ; I can. It was this evening when the miracle did 
 not happen ; for it was then I saw you were not the man 
 I had taken you for. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Explain yourself more ; I don’t understand. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I have waited so patiently all these eight years ; for, 
 indeed, I saw well enough that miracles do not happen 
 every day. Then this trouble broke over my head, and 
 then I was so firmly convinced that now the miracle must 
 be at hand. When Krogstad’s letter lay in the box out- 
 side, the thought never once occurred to me that you could 
 allow yourself to submit to the conditions of such a man. 
 I was so firmly convinced that you would say to him, 
 “ Pray make the affair known to all the world ; ” and when 
 that had been done. . . 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well ? And when I had given my own wife’s name up 
 to disgrace and shame ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 When that had been done, then you would, as I firmly 
 believed, stand before the world, take everything upon 
 yourself, and say, 6 1 am the guilty person.’ 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You mean I should never have accepted such a sacrifice 
 from you? No ; certainly not. But what would my asser- 
 tions have been worth compared with yours ? That was 
 the miracle that I hoped and feared. And it was to hinder 
 that that I wanted to put an end to my life. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I would gladly work for you, day and night, Nora, 
 bear sorrow and trouble for your sake ; but no man 
 sacrifices his honour to a person he loves. 
 
NORA. 
 
 ii 7 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That is what millions of women have done. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Oh, you think and talk like a silly child. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Very likely. But you neither think nor speak like the 
 man I could be one with. When your terror was over, — 
 not for what threatened me, but for what involved you , — 
 and when there was nothing more to fear, then it was in 
 your eyes as though nothing whatever had happened. I 
 was just as much as ever your lark, your doll, whom you 
 would take twice as much care of in future because she was 
 so weak and frail ( stands up'). Torvald, in that moment it 
 became clear to me that I had been living here ail these 
 years with a strange man and had borne him three children. 
 Oh, I cannot bear to think of it. I could tear myself to 
 pieces ! 
 
 Helmer [sadly). 
 
 I see it, I see it : a chasm has opened between us. . . . 
 But, Nora, can it never be filled up ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 As I now am I am no wife for you. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 I am strong enough to become another man. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Perhaps, when your doll is taken away from you. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Part— part from you! No, Nora, no; I cannot 
 grasp it. 
 
 Nora [going into the right room). 
 
 The more reason for it to happen. ( She comes in with 
 her walking things and a small travelling bag, which she 
 puts on the chair by the table.) 
 
1 1 8 ' 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, Nora, not now. Wait till to-morrow. 
 
 N ORA [putting on her cloak). 
 
 I cannot spend the night in the house of a man who is 
 a stranger to me. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But can’t we live here as brother and sister ? 
 
 N ORA ( tying her bonnet tightly). 
 
 You know quite well that would not last long [puts her 
 shawl on). Good-bye, Torvald. I will not see the 
 children before I go. I know they are in better hands 
 than mine. As I now am I can be nothing to them. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But later, Nora — later on ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How can I tell ? I have no idea what will become 
 of me. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But you are my wife — both as you are now and as you 
 will become. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Listen, Torvald. When a wife leaves her husband’s 
 house, as I am doing, then I have heard he is free from all 
 duties towards her in the eyes of the law. At any rate, I 
 release you from all duties. You must feel yourself no 
 more bound by anything than I feel. There must be 
 perfect freedom on both sides. There, there is your ring 
 back. Give me mine. 
 
 That too ? 
 That too. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Here it is. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
NORA. 
 
 1 19 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Very well. Yes ; now it is all past and gone. Here, I 
 lay the keys down. The maids know how to manage every- 
 thing in the house far better than I do. To-morrow, 
 when I have started on my journey, Christina will come 
 in order to pack up the few things that are my own. They 
 will be sent after me. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Past and gone ! Nora, will you never think of me 
 again ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Certainly. I shall think very often of you and the 
 children and this house. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 May I write to you, Nora? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, never. You must not. 
 
 PI ELMER. 
 
 But I may send you what . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Nothing, nothing. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Help you when you are in need ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No, I say. I take nothing from strangers. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Nora, can I never become to you anything but a 
 stranger ? 
 
 N ora ( taking her travelling bag sadly). 
 
 The greatest miracle of all would have to happen then, 
 Torvald. 
 
120 
 
 NORA. 
 
 * Helmer. 
 
 Tell me what the greatest miracle is. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 We both should need to change so, you as well as I, that 
 — Oh, Torvald, I no longer believe in anything miraculous. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 But I believe in it. Tell me. We must so change 
 that . . . 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That our living together could be a marriage. Good- 
 bye. ( She goes out through the hall.) 
 
 Helmer ( sinks in a chair by the door with his hands 
 before his face'). 
 
 Nora, Nora ! (He looks round and sta7ids up.) Empty. 
 She isn’t here now. ( A hope inspires him.) The greatest 
 miracle ! (Below-stairs a door is heard shutting ominously 
 in the lock.) 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BUNGAY : CLAY AND TAYLOR, PRINTER. 
 
 2 m. 11.82. V . T . 
 
c 
 
 
 
 
 



UNIVER9ITY OF ILLINOIS-URBAN A 
 
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