Mrs. Linde.  But where did you get it from, then?  Nora (humming and smiling with an air of mystery).  Hm, hm!  Aha!

Mrs. Linde.  Because you couldn’t have borrowed it.

Nora.  Couldn’t I?  Why not?

Mrs. Linde.  No, a wife cannot borrow without her husband’s consent.

Nora (tossing her head).  Oh, if it is a wife who has any head for business—­a wife who has the wit to be a little bit clever—­

Mrs. Linde.  I don’t understand it at all, Nora.

Nora.  There is no need you should.  I never said I had borrowed the money.  I may have got it some other way. (Lies back on the sofa.) Perhaps I got it from some other admirer.  When anyone is as attractive as I am—­

Mrs. Linde.  You are a mad creature.

Nora.  Now, you know you’re full of curiosity, Christine.

Mrs. Linde.  Listen to me, Nora dear.  Haven’t you been a little bit imprudent?

Nora (sits up straight).  Is it imprudent to save your husband’s life?

Mrs. Linde.  It seems to me imprudent, without his knowledge, to—­

Nora.  But it was absolutely necessary that he should not know!  My goodness, can’t you understand that?  It was necessary he should have no idea what a dangerous condition he was in.  It was to me that the doctors came and said that his life was in danger, and that the only thing to save him was to live in the south.  Do you suppose I didn’t try, first of all, to get what I wanted as if it were for myself?  I told him how much I should love to travel abroad like other young wives; I tried tears and entreaties with him; I told him that he ought to remember the condition I was in, and that he ought to be kind and indulgent to me; I even hinted that he might raise a loan.  That nearly made him angry, Christine.  He said I was thoughtless, and that it was his duty as my husband not to indulge me in my whims and caprices—­as I believe he called them.  Very well, I thought, you must be saved—­and that was how I came to devise a way out of the difficulty—­

Mrs. Linde.  And did your husband never get to know from your father that the money had not come from him?

Nora.  No, never.  Papa died just at that time.  I had meant to let him into the secret and beg him never to reveal it.  But he was so ill then—­alas, there never was any need to tell him.

Mrs. Linde.  And since then have you never told your secret to your husband?

Nora.  Good Heavens, no!  How could you think so?  A man who has such strong opinions about these things!  And besides, how painful and humiliating it would be for Torvald, with his manly independence, to know that he owed me anything!  It would upset our mutual relations altogether; our beautiful happy home would no longer be what it is now.

Mrs. Linde.  Do you mean never to tell him about it?