but, as a matter of fact, our lamented friend met his end under other
circumstances. The shot did _not_ strike him in the _breast_--but--
[_Pauses._

_Hedda_ (_excitedly_). General GABLER'S pistols! I might have known
it! Did they _ever_ shoot straight? Where _was_ he hit, then?

_Brack_ (_in a discreet undertone_). A little lower down!

_Hedda_. Oh, _how_ disgusting!--how vulgar!--how ridiculous!--like
everything else about me!

_Brack_. Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and all that--but
a trifle squalid, perhaps. And why did you give LÖVBORG your pistol,
when it was certain to be traced by the police? For a charming
cold-blooded woman with a clear head and no scruples, wasn't it just a
leetle foolish?

_Hedda_. Perhaps; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, and he
didn't! Oh, I've just admitted that I _did_ give him the pistol--how
annoyingly unwise of me! Now I'm in _your_ power, I suppose?

_Brack_. Precisely--for some reason it's not easy to understand.
But it's inevitable, and you know how you dread anything approaching
scandal. All your past proceedings show that. (_To_ GEORGE _and_ Mrs.
E., _who come in together from the back-room._) Well, how are you
getting on with the reconstruction of poor LÖVBORG'S great work, eh?

[Illustration: "What! the accounts of all those everlasting
bores settled?"]