Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 8).djvu/325

 Hialmar. H'm. [To Gregers.] You see the garret is fortunately so situated that no one can hear us shooting. [Lays the pistol on the top shelf of the bookcase.] Don't touch the pistol, Hedvig! One of the barrels is loaded; remember that.

Gregers. [Looking through the net.] You have a fowling-*piece too, I see.

Hialmar. That is father's old gun. It's of no use now; something has gone wrong with the lock. But it's fun to have it all the same; for we can take it to pieces now and then, and clean and grease it, and screw it together again.—Of course, it's mostly father that fiddle-faddles with all that sort of thing.

Hedvig. [Beside Gregers.] Now you can see the wild duck properly.

Gregers. I was just looking at her. One of her wings seems to me to droop a bit.

Hedvig. Well, no wonder; her wing was broken, you know.

Gregers. And she trails one foot a little. Isn't that so?

Hialmar. Perhaps a very little bit.