Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 10).djvu/99

 Brack.

[Nearer.] Are you out of your senses!

Hedda.

Dear me—did I happen to hit you?

Brack.

[Still outside.] I wish you would let these pranks alone!

Hedda.

Come in then, Judge.

Judge Brack, dressed as though for a men's party, enters by the glass door. He carries a light overcoat over his arm.

Brack.

What the deuce—haven't you tired of that sport, yet? What are you shooting at?

Hedda.

Oh, I am only firing in the air.

Brack.

[Gently takes the pistol out of her hand.] Allow me, madam! [Looks at it.] Ah—I know this pistol well! [Looks around.] Where is the case? Ah, here it is. [Lays the pistol in it, and shuts it.] Now we won't play at that game any more to-day.

Hedda.

Then what in heaven's name would you have me do with myself?

Brack.

Have you had no visitors?