No More Learning

Is it really you?

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, it is I.

_Nora_. Christine! To think of my not recognising you! And yet how could
I--(_In a gentle voice_. ) How you have altered, Christine!

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, I have indeed. In nine, ten long years--

_Nora_. Is it so long since we met? I suppose it is. The last eight
years have been a happy time for me, I can tell you. And so now you have
come into the town, and have taken this long journey in winter--that was
plucky of you.

_Mrs. Linde_. I arrived by steamer this morning.

_Nora_. To have some fun at Christmas-time, of course. How delightful!
We will have such fun together! But take off your things. You are not
cold, I hope. (_Helps her_. ) Now we will sit down by the stove, and be
cosy. No, take this arm-chair; I will sit here in the rocking-chair.
(_Takes her hands_. ) Now you look like your old self again; it was only
the first moment--You are a little paler, Christine, and perhaps a
little thinner.

_Mrs. Linde_. And much, much older, Nora.

_Nora_. Perhaps a little older; very, very little; certainly not much.
(_Stops suddenly and speaks seriously_. ) What a thoughtless creature I
am, chattering away like this. My poor, dear Christine, do forgive me.

_Mrs. Linde_. What do you mean, Nora?

_Nora_ (_gently_). Poor Christine, you are a widow.

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes; it is three years ago now.

_Nora_. Yes, I knew; I saw it in the papers. I assure you, Christine, I
meant ever so often to write to you at the time, but I always put it off
and something always prevented me.

_Mrs. Linde_. I quite understand, dear.

_Nora_. It was very bad of me, Christine. Poor thing, how you must have
suffered. And he left you nothing?

_Mrs. Linde_. No.

_Nora_. And no children?

_Mrs. Linde_. No.

_Nora_. Nothing at all, then?

_Mrs. Linde_. Not even any sorrow or grief to live upon.

_Nora_ (_looking incredulously at her_). But, Christine, is that
possible?

_Mrs. Linde_ (_smiles sadly and strokes her hair_). It sometimes
happens, Nora.

_Nora_. So you are quite alone. How dreadfully sad that must be. I have
three lovely children. You can't see them just now, for they are out
with their nurse. But now you must tell me all about it.

_Mrs. Linde_. No, no; I want to hear about you.

_Nora_. No, you must begin. I mustn't be selfish today; today I must
only think of your affairs. But there is one thing I must tell you. Do
you know we have just had a great piece of good luck?

_Mrs. Linde_. No, what is it?

_Nora_. Just fancy, my husband has been made manager of the Bank!

_Mrs. Linde_. Your husband? What good luck!

_Nora_. Yes tremendous! A barrister's profession is such an uncertain
thing, especially if he won't undertake unsavoury cases; and naturally
Torvald has never been willing to do that, and I quite agree with him.
You may imagine how pleased we are! He is to take up his work in the
Bank at the New Year, and then he will have a big salary and lots of
commissions. For the future we can live quite differently--we can do
just as we like. I feel so relieved and so happy, Christine! It will be
splendid to have heaps of money and not need to have any anxiety, won't
it?

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, anyhow I think it would be delightful to have what
one needs.

_Nora_. No, not only what one needs, but heaps and heaps of money.

_Mrs. Linde_ (_smiling_). Nora, Nora, haven't you learnt sense yet? In
our schooldays you were a great spendthrift.

_Nora_ (_laughing_). Yes, that is what Torvald says now. (_Wags her
finger at her_. ) But "Nora, Nora" is not so silly as you think. We have
not been in a position for me to waste money. We have both had to work.

_Mrs. Linde_. You too?

_Nora_. Yes; odds and ends, needlework, crochet-work, embroidery, and
that kind of thing. (_Dropping her voice_. ) And other things as well.
You know Torvald left his office when we were married? There was no
prospect of promotion there, and he had to try and earn more than
before. But during the first year he overworked himself dreadfully. You
see, he had to make money every way he could, and he worked early and
late; but he couldn't stand it, and fell dreadfully ill, and the doctors
said it was necessary for him to go south.

_Mrs. Linde_. You spent a whole year in Italy, didn't you?

_Nora_. Yes. It was no easy matter to get away, I can tell you. It was
just after Ivar was born; but naturally we had to go. It was a
wonderfully beautiful journey, and it saved Torvald's life. But it cost
a tremendous lot of money, Christine.

_Mrs. Linde_. So I should think.

_Nora_. It cost about two hundred and fifty pounds. That's a lot, isn't
it?

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, and in emergencies like that it is lucky to have the
money.

_Nora_. I ought to tell you that we had it from papa.

_Mrs. Linde_. Oh, I see. It was just about that time that he died,
wasn't it?

_Nora_. Yes; and, just think of it, I couldn't go and nurse him. I was
expecting little Ivar's birth every day and I had my poor sick Torvald
to look after. My dear, kind father--I never saw him again, Christine.
That was the saddest time I have known since our marriage.

_Mrs. Linde_. I know how fond you were of him. And then you went off to
Italy?

_Nora_. Yes; you see we had money then, and the doctors insisted on our
going, so we started a month later.

_Mrs. Linde_. And your husband came back quite well?

_Nora_. As sound as a bell!

_Mrs Linde_. But--the doctor?

_Nora_. What doctor?

_Mrs Linde_. I thought your maid said the gentleman who arrived here
just as I did, was the doctor?

_Nora_. Yes, that was Doctor Rank, but he doesn't come here
professionally. He is our greatest friend, and comes in at least once
every day. No, Torvald has not had an hour's illness since then, and our
children are strong and healthy and so am I. (_Jumps up and claps her
hands_. ) Christine! Christine! it's good to be alive and happy! --But how
horrid of me; I am talking of nothing but my own affairs. (_Sits on a
stool near her, and rests her arms on her knees_. ) You mustn't be angry
with me. Tell me, is it really true that you did not love your husband?
Why did you marry him?

_Mrs. Linde_. My mother was alive then, and was bedridden and helpless,
and I had to provide for my two younger brothers; so I did not think I
was justified in refusing his offer.

_Nora_. No, perhaps you were quite right. He was rich at that time,
then?

_Mrs. Linde_. I believe he was quite well off.
But his business was a
precarious one; and, when he died, it all went to pieces and there was
nothing left.

_Nora_. And then? --

_Mrs. Linde_. Well, I had to turn my hand to anything I could
find--first a small shop, then a small school, and so on. The last three
years have seemed like one long working-day, with no rest. Now it is at
an end, Nora. My poor mother needs me no more, for she is gone; and the
boys do not need me either; they have got situations and can shift for
themselves.

_Nora_. What a relief you must feel it--

_Mrs. Linde_. No, indeed; I only feel my life unspeakably empty. No one
to live for any more. (_Gets up restlessly_. ) That is why I could not
stand the life in my little backwater any longer. I hope it may be
easier here to find something which will busy me and occupy my thoughts.
If only I could have the good luck to get some regular work--office work
of some kind--

_Nora_. But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look
tired out now. You had far better go away to some watering-place.

_Mrs. Linde_ (_walking to the window_). I have no father to give me
money for a journey, Nora.

_Nora_ (_rising_). Oh, don't be angry with me.

_Mrs. Linde_ (_going up to her_). It is you that must not be angry with
me, dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so
bitter. No one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the look-out
for chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me
of the happy turn your fortunes have taken--you will hardly believe
it--I was delighted not so much on your account as on my own.

_Nora_. How do you mean? --Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps
Torvald could get you something to do.

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, that was what I was thinking of.

_Nora_. He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the
subject very cleverly--I will think of something that will please him
very much. It will make me so happy to be of some use to you.

_Mrs. Linde_. How kind you are, Nora, to be so anxious to help me! It is
doubly kind in you, for you know so little of the burdens and troubles
of life.

_Nora_. I--? I know so little of them?

_Mrs Linde_ (_smiling_). My dear! Small household cares and that sort of
thing! --You are a child, Nora.

_Nora_ (_tosses her head and crosses the stage_). You ought not to be so
superior.

_Mrs. Linde_. No?

_Nora_. You are just like all the others. They all think that I am
incapable of anything really serious--

_Mrs. Linde_. Come, come--

_Nora_. --that I have gone through nothing in this world of cares.

_Mrs. Linde_. But, my dear Nora, you have just told me all your
troubles.

_Nora_. Pooh! --those were trifles. (_Lowering her voice_. ) I have not
told you the important thing.

_Mrs. Linde_. The important thing? What do you mean?

_Nora_. You look down upon me altogether, Christine--but you ought not
to. You are proud, aren't you, of having-worked so hard and so long for
your mother?

_Mrs. Linde_. Indeed, I don't look down on any one. But it is true that
I am both proud and glad to think that I was privileged to make the end
of my mother's life almost free from care.

_Nora_. And you are proud to think of what you have done for your
brothers.

_Mrs. Linde_. I think I have the right to be.

_Nora_. I think so, too. But now, listen to this; I too have something
to be proud and glad of.

_Mrs. Linde_. I have no doubt you have. But what do you refer to?

_Nora_. Speak low. Suppose Torvald were to hear! He mustn't on any
account--no one in the world must know, Christine, except you.

_Mrs. Linde_. But what is it?

_Nora_. Come here. (_Pulls her down on the sofa beside her_. ) Now I will
show you that I too have something to be proud and glad of. It was I who
saved Torvald's life.

_Mrs. Linde_. "Saved"? How?

_Nora_. I told you about our trip to Italy. Torvald would never have
recovered if he had not gone there--

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, but your father gave you the necessary funds.

_Nora_ (_smiling_). Yes, that is what Torvald and all the others think,
but--

_Mrs. Linde_. But. --

_Nora_. Papa didn't give us a shilling. It was I who procured the money.

_Mrs. Linde_. You? All that large sum?

_Nora_. Two hundred and fifty pounds. What do you think of that?

_Mrs. Linde_. But, Nora, how could you possibly do it? Did you win a
prize in the Lottery?

_Nora_ (_contemptuously_). In the Lottery? There would have been no
credit in that.

_Mrs. Linde_. But where did you get it from, then?

_Nora_ (_humming and smiling with an air of mystery_). Hm, hu! Aha!

_Mrs. Linde_. Because you couldn't have borrowed it.

_Nora_. Couldn't I? Why not?

_Mrs. Linde_. No, a wife cannot borrow without her husband's consent.

_Nora_ (_tossing her head_). Oh, if it is a wife who has any head for
business--a wife who has the wit to be a little bit clever--

_Mrs. Linde_. I don't understand it at all, Nora.

_Nora_. There is no need you should. I never said I had borrowed the
money. I may have got it some other way. (_Lies back on the sofa. _)
Perhaps I got it from some other admirer. When anyone is as attractive
as I am--

_Mrs. Linde_. You are a mad creature.

_Nora_. Now, you know you're full of curiosity, Christine.

_Mrs. Linde_. Listen to me, Nora dear. Haven't you been a little bit
imprudent?

_Nora_ (_sits up straight_). Is it imprudent to save your husband's
life?

_Mrs. Linde_. It seems to me imprudent, without his knowledge, to--

_Nora_. But it was absolutely necessary that he should not know! My
goodness, can't you understand that? It was necessary he should have no
idea what a dangerous condition he was in. It was to me that the doctors
came and said that his life was in danger, and that the only thing to
save him was to live in the south. Do you suppose I didn't try, first of
all, to get what I wanted as if it were for myself? I told him how much
I should love to travel abroad like other young wives; I tried tears and
entreaties with him; I told him that he ought to remember the condition
I was in, and that he ought to be kind and indulgent to me; I even
hinted that he might raise a loan. That nearly made him angry,
Christine. He said I was thoughtless, and that it was his duty as my
husband not to indulge me in my whims and caprices--as I believe he
called them. Very well, I thought, you must be saved--and that was how I
came to devise a way out of the difficulty--

_Mrs. Linde_. And did your husband never get to know from your father
that the money had not come from him?

_Nora_. No, never. Papa died just at that time. I had meant to let him
into the secret and beg him never to reveal it. But he was so ill
then--alas, there never was any need to tell him.

_Mrs. Linde_. And since then have you never told your secret to your
husband?

_Nora_. Good Heavens, no! How could you think so? A man who has such
strong opinions about these things! And besides, how painful and
humiliating it would be for Torvald, with his manly independence, to
know that he owed me anything!