This page needs to be proofread.
Hedda. No, he did not get it.
Tesman. But of course you told him that we had it?
Hedda. No. [Quickly.] Did you tell Mrs. Elvsted?
Tesman.
No; I thought I had better not. But you ought to have told him. Fancy, if, in desperation, he should go and do himself some injury! Let me have the manuscript, Hedda! I will take it to him at once. Where is it?
Hedda.
[Cold and immovable, leaning on the arm-chair.] I have not got it.
Tesman.
Have not got it? What in the world do you mean?
Hedda.
I have burnt it—every line of it.
Tesman.
[With a violent movement of terror.] Burnt! Burnt Eilert's manuscript!
Hedda. Don't scream so. The servant might hear you.
Tesman.
Burnt! Why, good God! No, no, no! It's impossible!
Hedda. It is so, nevertheless.
