Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 10).djvu/197

 Tesman.

[In an outburst of mingled doubt and joy.] Hedda! Oh, is this true? But—but—I never knew you show your love like that before. Fancy that!

Hedda.

Well, I may as well tell you that—just at this time [Impatiently, breaking off.] No, no; you can ask Aunt Julia. She will tell you, fast enough.

Tesman.

Oh, I almost think I understand you, Hedda! [Clasps his hands together.] Great heavens! do you really mean it! Eh?

Hedda. Don't shout so. The servant might hear.

Tesman.

[Laughing in irrepressible glee.] The servant! Why, how absurd you are, Hedda. It's only my old Berta! Why, I'll tell Berta myself.

Hedda.

[Clenching her hands together in desperation.] Oh, it is killing me,—it is killing me, all this!

Tesman. What is, Hedda? Eh?

Hedda.

[Coldly, controlling herself.] All this—absurdity—George.

Tesman.

Absurdity! Do you see anything absurd in my