Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/61

 Mrs. Linden.

Then how much have you been able to pay off?

Nora.

Well, I can't precisely say. It's difficult to keep that sort of business clear. I only know that I've paid everything I could scrape together. Sometimes I really didn't know where to turn. [Smiles.] Then I used to sit here and pretend that a rich old gentleman was in love with me—-

Mrs. Linden.

What! What gentleman?

Nora.

Oh, nobody!—that he was dead now, and that when his will was opened, there stood in large letters: "Pay over at once everything of which I die possessed to that charming person, Mrs. Nora Helmer."

Mrs. Linden.

But, my dear Nora—what gentleman do you mean?

Nora.

Oh dear, can't you understand? There wasn't any old gentleman: it was only what I used to dream and dream when I was at my wits' end for money. But it doesn't matter now—the tiresome old creature may stay where he is for me. I care nothing for him or his will; for now my troubles are over. [Springing up.] Oh, Christina, how glorious it is to think of! Free from all anxiety! Free, quite free. To be able to play and romp about with the children; to have things tasteful and pretty in the house, exactly as Torvald likes