Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, and once you said you would burn it off my head.
Hedda.
Oh that was all nonsense, of course.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, but I was so silly in those days.—And since then, too—we have drifted so far—far apart from each other. Our circles have been so entirely different.
Hedda.
Well then, we must try to drift together again. Now listen! At school we said du[1] to each other; and we called each other by our Christian names
Mrs. Elvsted.
No, I am sure you must be mistaken.
Hedda.
No, not at all! I can remember quite distinctly. So now we are going to renew our old friendship. [Draws the footstool closer to Mrs. Elvsted.] There now! [Kisses her cheek.] You must say du to me and call me Hedda.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Presses and pats her hands.] Oh, how good and kind you are! I am not used to such kindness.
Hedda.
There, there, there! And I shall say du to you, as in the old days, and call you my dear Thora.
1 See footnote, p. 27.
