Mrs. E. Oh, please, HEDDA!  When I’ve inspired Mr. LOeVBORG so—­good gracious! don’t make him drink cold punch!

Hedda.  You see, Mr. LOeVBORG, our dear little friend can’t trust you!

Loevborg.  So that is my comrade’s faith in me! (Gloomily.) I’ll show her if I am to be trusted or not. (He drinks a glass of punch.) Now I’ll go to the Judge’s party.  I’ll have another glass first.  Your health, THEA!  So you came up to spy on me, eh?  I’ll drink the Sheriff’s health—­everybody’s health!

    [He tries to get more punch.

Hedda (stopping him).  No more now.  You are going to a party, remember. [GEORGE and TESMAN come in from back-room.

Loevborg. Don’t be angry, THEA.  I was fallen for a moment.  Now I’m up again! (Mrs. E. beams with delight).  Judge, I’ll come to your party, as you are so pressing, and I’ll read GEORGE my manuscript all the evening.  I’ll do all in my power to make that party go!

George.  No? fancy! that will be amusing!

Hedda.  There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures!  But Mr. LOeVBORG must be back at ten, to take dear THEA home!

Mrs. E. Oh, goodness, yes! (In concealed agony.) Mr. LOeVBORG, I shan’t go away till you do!

[The three men go out laughing merrily; the Act-drop is lowered for a minute; when it is raised, it is 7 A.M., and Mrs. ELVSTED and HEDDA are discovered sitting up, with rugs around them.

Mrs. E. (wearily).  Seven in the morning, and Mr. LOeVBORG not here to take me home yet! what can he be doing?

Hedda (yawning).  Reading to TESMAN, with vine-leaves in his hair, I suppose.  Perhaps he has got to the third part.

Mrs. E. Oh, do you really think so, HEDDA?  Oh, if I could but hope he was doing that!

Hedda.  You silly little ninny!  I should like to scorch your hair off.  Go to bed! [Mrs. E. goes.  Enter GEORGE.

George.  I’m a little late, eh?  But we made such a night of it.  Fancy!  It was most amusing.  EJLERT read his book to me—­think of that!  Astonishing book!  Oh, we really had great fun!  I wish I’d written it.  Pity he’s so irreclaimable.

Hedda.  I suppose you mean he has more of the courage of life than most people?

George.  Good Lord!  He had the courage to get more drunk than most people.  But, altogether, it was what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy.  We finished up by going to have early coffee with some of these jolly chaps, and poor old LOeVBORG dropped his precious manuscript in the mud, and I picked it up—­and here it is!  Fancy if anything were to happen to it!  He never could write it again. Wouldn’t it be sad, eh?  Don’t tell anyone about it.