Hialmar (coming in, in evening dress).  And he has not forgotten his promise, my child.  Behold! (he presents her with the menu card; HEDVIG gulps down her tears; HIALMAR notices her disappointment, with annoyance.) And this all the gratitude I get!  After dining out and coming home in a dress-coat and boots, which are disgracefully tight!  Well, well, just to show you how hurt I am, I won’t have any beer now!  What a selfish brute I am! (Relenting.) You may bring me just a little drop. (He bursts into tears.) I will play you a plaintive Bohemian dance on my flute. (He does.) No beer at such a sacred moment as this! (He drinks.) Ha, this is real domestic bliss!

    [GREGERS WERLE comes in, in a countrified suit.

Gregers.  I have left my father’s home—­dinner-party and all—­for ever.  I am coming to lodge with you.

Hialmar (still melancholy).  Have some bread and butter.  You won’t? then I will.  I want it, after your father’s lavish hospitality. (HEDVIG goes to fetch bread and butter.) My daughter—­a poor shortsighted little thing—­but mine own.

Gregers.  My father has had to take to strong glasses, too—­he can hardly see after dinner. (To Old EKDAL, who stumbles in very drunk.) How can you, Lieutenant EKDAL, who were such a keen sportsman once, live in this poky little hole?

Old Ekdal.  I am a sportsman still.  The only difference is that once I shot bears in a forest, and now I pot tame rabbits in a garret.  Quite as amusing—­and safer.

    [He goes to sleep on a sofa.

Hialmar (with pride).  It is quite true.  You shall see.

    [He pushes back sliding doors, and reveals a garret full of
    rabbits and poultry—­moonlight effect.  HEDVIG returns with
    bread and butter.

Hedvig (to GREGERS).  If you stand just there, you get the best view of our Wild Duck.  We are very proud of her, because she gives the play its title, you know, and has to be brought into the dialogue a good deal.  Your father, peppered her out shooting, and we saved her life.

Hialmar.  Yes, GREGERS, our estate is not large—­but still we preserve, you see.  And my poor old father and I sometimes get a day’s gunning in the garret.  He shoots with a pistol, which my illiterate wife here will call a “pigstol.”  He once, when he got into trouble, pointed it at himself.  But the descendant of two lieutenant-colonels who had never quailed before living rabbit yet, faltered then.  He didn’t shoot.  Then I put it to my own head.  But at the decisive moment, I won the victory over myself.  I remained in life.  Now we only shoot rabbits and fowls with it.  After all I am very happy and contented as I am. [He eats some bread and butter.

Gregers.  But you ought not to be.  You have a good deal of the Wild Duck about you.  So have your wife and daughter.  You are living in marsh vapours.  To-morrow I will take you out for a walk and explain what I mean.  It is my mission in life.  Good night! [He goes out.