build upon--thanks to me! Then there's your great invention, too.

_Hialmar_. Everything's invented already. And I only cared about my
invention because, although it doesn't exist yet, I thought HEDVIG
believed in it, with all the strength of her sweet little shortsighted
eyes! But now I don't believe in HEDVIG!

[Illustration]

[_He pours himself out another cup of coffee._

_Gregers_ (_earnestly_). But, HIALMAR, if I can prove to you that she
is ready to sacrifice her cherished Wild Duck? See!

[_He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers HEDVIG aiming
at the Wild Duck with the butt-end of the pistol. Tableau._

_Gina_ (_excitedly_). But don't you _see_? It's the pigstol--that
fatal Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian dramas, _never_ shoots
straight! And she has got it by the wrong end too. She will shoot
herself!

_Gregers_ (_quietly_). She will! Let the child make amends. It will be
a most realistic and impressive finale!

_Gina_. No, no--put down the pigstol, HEDVIG. Do you hear, child?

_Hedvig_ (_still aiming_). I hear--but I shan't unless father tells me
to.