Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/165

 Helmer.

What! Do you know anything? Has he told you anything?

Nora.

Yes. These cards mean that he has taken his last leave of us. He is going to shut himself up and die.

Helmer.

Poor fellow! Of course I knew we couldn't hope to keep him long. But so soon! And to go and creep into his lair like a wounded animal

Nora.

When we must go, it is best to go silently*̣ Don't you think so, Torvald?

Helmer.

[Walking up and down.] He had so grown into our lives, I can't realise that he is gone. He and his sufferings and his loneliness formed a sort of cloudy background to the sunshine of our happiness.—Well, perhaps it's best as it is—at any rate for him. [Stands still.] And perhaps for us too, Nora. Now we two are thrown entirely upon each other. [Takes her in his arms.] My darling wife! I feel as if I could never hold you close enough. Do you know, Nora, I often wish some danger might threaten you, that I might risk body and soul, and everything, everything, for your dear sake.

Nora.

[Tears herself from him and says firmly.] Now you shall read your letters, Torvald.