Hialmar.
Oh, you can imagine we haven't the heart to tell her of it. She dreams of no danger. Gay and careless and chirping like a little bird, she flutters onward into a life of endless night. [Overcome.] Oh, it is cruelly hard on me, Gregers.
[Hedvig brings a tray with beer and glasses, which she sets upon the table.
Hialmar.
[Stroking her hair.] Thanks, thanks, Hedvig.
[Hedvig puts her arm round his neck and whispers in his ear.
Hialmar.
No, no bread and butter just now. [Looks up.] But perhaps you would like some, Gregers.
Gregers. [With a gesture of refusal.] No, no thank you.
Hialmar.
[Still melancholy.] Well, you can bring in a little all the same. If you have a crust, that is all I want. And plenty of butter on it, mind.
[Hedvig nods gaily and goes out into the kitchen again.
Gregers.
[Who has been following her with his eyes.] She seems quite strong and healthy otherwise.
Gina.
Yes. In other ways there's nothing amiss with her, thank goodness.
