Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 5

me, our future is bright and secure!
[_He goes out; and Mrs. LINDEN sets the furniture straight; presently a noise is heard outside, and HELMER enters, dragging_ NORA in. She is in fancy dress, and he in an open black domino._
Nora. I shan't! It's too early to come away from such a nice party. I _won't_ go to bed! [_She whimpers._
Helmer (_tenderly_). There'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, Mrs. LINEN! Poshtively had to drag her 'way! She'sh a capricious lil' girl--from Capri. 'Scuse me!--'fraid I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur again! Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us--'counts for it! (_Sits down, smiling._) Do you _knit_, Mrs. COTTON?... You shouldn't. Never knit. 'Broider. (_Nodding to her, solemnly._) 'Member that. Alwaysh _'broider_. More--(_hiccoughing_)--Oriental! Gobblesh you!--goo'ni!
_Mrs. Linden_. I only came in to--to see NORA's costume. Now I've seen it, I'll go. [_Goes out._
Helmer. Awful bore that woman--hate boresh! (_Looks at NORA, then comes nearer._) Oh, you prillil squillikins, I do love you so! Shomehow, I feel sho lively thishevenin'!
Nora (_goes to other side of table_). I won't have all that, TORVALD!
Helmer. Why? ain't you my lil' lark--ain't thish our lil' cage? Ver-_well_, then. (_A ring._) RANK! confound it all! (_Enter Dr. RANK._) RANK, dear old boy, you've been (_hiccoughs_) going it upstairs. Cap'tal champagne, eh? _'Shamed_ of you, RANK! [_He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently._
Rank. Did you notice it? (_with pride_). It was almost incredible the amount I contrived to put away. But I shall suffer for it to-morrow (_gloomily_). Heredity again! I wish I was dead! I do.
Nora. Don't apologise. TORVALD was just as bad; but he is always so good-tempered after champagne.
Rank. Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. HELMER, it's chronic--and hereditary too. Here are my P.P.C. cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me with a cigar?
Nora (_with a suppressed smile_). Certainly. Let me give you a light?
[_RANK lights his cigar, after several ineffectual attempts, and goes out._
Helmer (_compassionately_). Poo' old RANK--he'sh very bad to-ni'! (_Pulls himself together._) But I forgot--Bishness--I mean, bu-si-ness--mush be 'tended to. I'll go and see if there are any letters. (_Goes to box._) Hallo! someone's been at the lock with a hairpin--it's one of your hairpins! [_Holding it out to her._
Nora (_quickly_). Not mine--one of BOB's, or IVAR's--they both wear hairpins!
Helmer (_turning over letters absently_). You must break them of it--bad habit! What a lot o' lettersh! double usual quantity. (_Opens KROGSTAD's._) By Jove! (_Reads it and falls back completely sobered._) What have you got to say to _this_?
Nora (_crying aloud._) You shan't save me--let me go! I _won't_ be saved!
Helmer. Save _you_, indeed! Who's going to save _Me_? You miserable little criminal. (_Annoyed._) Ugh--ugh!
Nora (_with hardening expression_). Indeed, TORVALD, your singing-bird acted for the best!
Helmer. Singing-bird! Your father was a rook--and you take after him. Heredity again! You have utterly destroyed my happiness. (_Walks round several times._) Just as I was beginning to get on, too!
Nora. I have--but I will go away and jump into the water.
Helmer. What good will that do me? People will say I had a hand in this business (_bitterly_). If you must forge, you might at least put your dates in correctly! But you never had any principle! (_A ring._) The front-door bell! (_A fat letter is seen to fall into the box; HELMER takes it, opens it, sees enclosure, and embraces NORA._) KROGSTAD won't split. See, he returns the forged I.O.U.! Oh, my poor little lark, what you must have gone through! Come under my wing, my little scared song-bird.... Eh? you _won't!_ Why, what's the matter _now_?
Nora (_with cold calm_). I have wings of my own, thank you, TORVALD, and I mean to use them!
Helmer. What--leave your pretty cage, and (_pathetically_) the old cock bird, and the poor little innocent eggs!
Nora. Exactly. Sit down, and we will talk it over first. (_Slowly._) Has it ever struck you that this is the first time you and I have ever talked seriously together about serious things?
Helmer. Come, I do like that! How on earth could we talk about serious things when your mouth was always full of macaroons?
Nora (_shakes her head_). Ah, TORVALD, the mouth of a mother of a family should have more solemn things in it than macaroons! I see that now, too late. No, you have wronged me. So did Papa. Both of you called me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark! You might have made something of me--and instead of that, you went and made too much of me--oh, you _did_!
Helmer. Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really I don't exactly see what it is you do want!
Nora. No more do I--that is what I have got to find out.