A Doll’s House

lies and dissimulation; that is why I say he has lost all moral character. Holds out his hands to her. That is why my sweet little Nora must promise me not to plead his cause. Give me your hand on it. Come, come, what is this? Give me your hand. There now, that’s settled. I assure you it would be quite impossible for me to work with him; I literally feel physically ill when I am in the company of such people. Nora Takes her hand out of his and goes to the opposite side of the Christmas tree. How hot it is in here; and I have such a lot to do. Helmer Getting up and putting his papers in order. Yes, and I must try and read through some of these before dinner; and I must think about your costume, too. And it is just possible I may have something ready in gold paper to hang up on the tree. Puts his hand on her head. My precious little singing-bird! He goes into his room and shuts the door after him. Nora After a pause, whispers. No, no⁠—it isn’t true. It’s impossible; it must be impossible. The Nurse opens the door on the left. Nurse The little ones are begging so hard to be allowed to come in to mamma. Nora No, no, no! Don’t let them come in to me! You stay with them, Anne. Nurse Very well, ma’am. Shuts the door. Nora Pale with terror. Deprave my little children? Poison my home? A short pause. Then she tosses her head. It’s not true. It can’t possibly be true.

Act II

The Christmas tree is in the corner by the piano, stripped of its ornaments and with burnt-down candle-ends on its dishevelled branches. Nora’s cloak and hat are lying on the sofa.

	Nora’s is alone in the room, walking about uneasily. She stops by the sofa and takes up her cloak.
Nora	Drops her cloak. Someone is coming now! Goes to the door and listens. No⁠—it is no one. Of course, no one will come today, Christmas Day⁠—nor tomorrow either. But, perhaps⁠—Opens the door and looks out. No, nothing in the letterbox; it is quite empty. Comes forward. What rubbish! of course he can’t be in earnest about it. Such a thing couldn’t happen; it is impossible⁠—I have three little children.
	Enter the Nurse from the room on the left, carrying a big cardboard box.
Nurse	At last I have found the box with the fancy dress.
Nora	Thanks; put it on the table.
Nurse	Doing so. But it is very much in want of mending.
Nora	I should like to tear it into a hundred thousand pieces.
Nurse	What an idea! It can easily be put in order⁠—just a little patience.
Nora	Yes, I will go and get Mrs. Linde to come and help me with it.
Nurse	What, out again? In this horrible weather? You will catch cold, ma’am, and make yourself ill.
Nora	Well, worse than that might happen. How are the children?
Nurse	The poor little souls are playing with their Christmas presents, but⁠—
Nora	Do they ask much for me?
Nurse	You see, they are so accustomed to have their mamma with them.
Nora	Yes, but, nurse, I shall not be able to be so much with them now as I was before.
Nurse	Oh well, young children easily get accustomed to anything.
Nora	Do you think so? Do you think they would forget their mother if she went away altogether?
Nurse	Good heavens!⁠—went away altogether?
Nora	Nurse, I want you to tell me something I have often wondered about⁠—how could you have the heart to put your own child out among strangers?
Nurse	I was obliged to, if I wanted to be little Nora’s nurse.
Nora	Yes, but how could you be willing to do it?
Nurse	What, when I was going to get such a good place by it? A poor girl who has got into trouble should be glad to. Besides, that wicked man didn’t do a single thing for me.
Nora	But I suppose your daughter has quite forgotten you.
Nurse	No, indeed she hasn’t. She wrote to me when she was confirmed, and when she was married.
Nora	Putting her arms round her neck. Dear old Anne, you were a good mother to me when I was little.
Nurse	Little Nora, poor dear, had no other mother but me.
Nora	And if my little ones had no other mother, I am sure you would⁠—What nonsense I am talking! Opens the box. Go in to them. Now I must⁠—. You will see tomorrow how charming I shall look.
Nurse	I am sure there will be no one at the ball so charming as you, ma’am. Goes into the room on the left.
Nora	Begins to unpack the box, but soon pushes it away from her. If only I dared go out. If only no one would come. If only I could be sure nothing would happen here in the meantime. Stuff and nonsense! No one will come. Only I mustn’t think about it. I will brush my muff. What lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts, out of my thoughts! One, two, three, four, five, six⁠—Screams. Ah! there is someone coming⁠—. Makes a movement towards the door, but stands irresolute.
	Enter Mrs. Linde from the hall, where she has taken off her cloak and hat.
Nora	Oh, it’s you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is there? How good of you to come!
Mrs. Linde	I heard you were up asking for me.
Nora	Yes, I was passing by. As a matter of fact, it is something you could help me with. Let us sit down here on the sofa. Look here. Tomorrow evening there is to be a fancy-dress ball at the Stenborgs’, who live above us; and Torvald wants me to go as a Neapolitan fisher-girl, and dance the Tarantella that I learned at Capri.
Mrs. Linde	I see; you are going to keep up