Maid.  Very well, sir. (Exit with the letter.)

Helmer (putting his papers together).  Now, then, little Miss Obstinate.

Nora (breathlessly).  Torvald—­what was that letter?

Helmer.  Krogstad’s dismissal.

Nora.  Call her back, Torvald!  There is still time.  Oh Torvald, call her back!  Do it for my sake—­for your own sake, for the children’s sake!  Do you hear me, Torvald?  Call her back!  You don’t know what that letter can bring upon us.

Helmer.  It’s too late.

Nora.  Yes, it’s too late.

Helmer.  My dear Nora, I can forgive the anxiety you are in, although really it is an insult to me.  It is, indeed.  Isn’t it an insult to think that I should be afraid of a starving quill-driver’s vengeance?  But I forgive you, nevertheless, because it is such eloquent witness to your great love for me. (Takes her in his arms.) And that is as it should be, my own darling Nora.  Come what will, you may be sure I shall have both courage and strength if they be needed.  You will see I am man enough to take everything upon myself.

Nora (in a horror-stricken voice).  What do you mean by that?

Helmer.  Everything I say—­

Nora (recovering herself).  You will never have to do that.

Helmer.  That’s right.  Well, we will share it, Nora, as man and wife should.  That is how it shall be. (Caressing her.) Are you content now?  There!  There!—­not these frightened dove’s eyes!  The whole thing is only the wildest fancy!—­Now, you must go and play through the Tarantella and practice with your tambourine.  I shall go into the inner office and shut the door, and I shall hear nothing; you can make as much noise as you please. (Turns back at the door.) And when Rank comes, tell him where he will find me. (Nods to her, takes his papers and goes into his room, and shuts the door after him.)

Nora (bewildered with anxiety, stands as if rooted to the spot, and whispers).  He was capable of doing it.  He will do it.  He will do it in spite of everything.—­No, not that!  Never, never!  Anything rather than that!  Oh, for some help, some way out of it. (The door-bell rings.) Doctor Rank!  Anything rather than that—­anything, whatever it is! (She puts her hands over her face, pulls herself together, goes to the door and opens it. RANK_ is standing without, hanging up his coat.  During the following dialogue it begins to grow dark_.)

Nora.  Good-day, Doctor Rank.  I knew your ring.  But you mustn’t go into Torvald now; I think he is busy with something.

Rank.  And you?

Nora (brings him in and shuts the door after him).  Oh, you know very well I always have time for you.

Rank.  Thank you.  I shall make use of as much of it as I can.