Hedda (coldly, in self-command).  It is surely not necessary, even for a clever Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social drama, to make quite such a fool of himself as all that?

George.  No, that’s true too.  Perhaps we’d better keep it quiet—­though I must tell Aunt JULIE—­it will make her so happy to hear that you burnt a manuscript on my account!  And, besides, I should like to ask her whether that’s a usual thing with young wives. (Looks uneasy and pensive again.) But poor old EJLERT’S manuscript!  Oh Lor, you know!  Well, well! [Mrs. ELVSTED comes in.

Mrs. E. Oh, please, I’m so uneasy about dear Mr. LOeVBORG.  Something has happened to him, I’m sure!

Judge Brack (comes in from the hall, with a new hat in his hand).  You have guessed it, first time.  Something has!

Mrs. E. Oh, dear, good gracious!  What is it?  Something distressing, I’m certain of it! [d.

Brack (pleasantly).  That depends on how one takes it.  He has shot himself, and is in a hospital now, that’s all!

George (sympathetically).  That’s sad, eh? poor old LOeVBORG!  Well, I am cut up to hear that.  Fancy, though, eh?

Hedda.  Was it through the temple, or through the breast?  The breast?  Well, one can do it beautifully through the breast, too.  Do you know, as an advanced woman, I like an act of that sort—­it’s so positive, to have the courage to settle the account with himself—­it’s beautiful, really!

Mrs. E. Oh, HEDDA, what an odd way to look at it!  But never mind poor dear Mr. LOeVBORG now.  What we’ve got to do is to see if we can’t put his wonderful manuscript, that he said he had torn to pieces, together again. (Takes a bundle of small pages out of the pocket of her mantle.) There are the loose scraps he dictated it to me from.  I hid them on the chance of some such emergency.  And if dear Mr. TESMAN and I were to put our heads together, I do think something might come of it.

George.  Fancy!  I will dedicate my life—­or all I can spare of it—­to the task.  I seem to feel I owe him some slight amends, perhaps.  No use crying over spilt milk, eh, Mrs. ELVSTED?  We’ll sit down—­just you and I—­in the back drawing-room, and see if you can’t inspire me as you did him, eh?

Mrs. E. Oh, goodness, yes!  I should like it—­if it only might be possible!

[GEORGE and Mrs. E. go into the back Drawing-room and become absorbed in eager conversation; HEDDA sits in a chair in the front room, and a little later BRACK crosses over to her.

Hedda (in a low tone).  Oh, Judge, what a relief to know that everything—­including LOeVBORG’S pistol—­went off so well!  In the breast!  Isn’t there a veil of unintentional beauty in that?  Such an act of voluntary courage, too!