here--in this place and in that.
And I have taken our child with--to this place and to that. And I have
lost the child--utterly lost it. The devil knows into what hands it may
have fallen--who may have had their clutches on it."

HEDDA.

Well--but when all is said and done, you know--this was only a book--

LOVBORG.

Thea's pure soul was in that book.

HEDDA.

Yes, so I understand.

LOVBORG.

And you can understand, too, that for her and me together no future is
possible.

HEDDA.

What path do you mean to take then?

LOVBORG.

None. I will only try to make an end of it all--the sooner the better.

HEDDA.

[A step nearer him.] Eilert Lovborg--listen to me.--Will you not try
to--to do it beautifully?

LOVBORG.

Beautifully? [Smiling.] With vine-leaves in my hair, as you used to
dream in the old days--?

HEDDA.

No, no. I have lost my faith in the vine-leaves. But beautifully
nevertheless! For once in a way!--Good-bye! You must go now--and do not
come here any more.

LOVBORG.

Good-bye, Mrs. Tesman. And give George Tesman my love.

[He is on the point of going.

HEDDA.

No, wait! I must give you a memento to take with you.

[She goes to the writing-table and opens the drawer and the
pistol-case; then returns to LOVBORG with one of the pistols.

LOVBORG.

[Looks at her.] This? Is this the memento?

HEDDA.

[Nodding slowly.] Do you recognise it? It was aimed at you once.

LOVBORG.

You should have used it then.

HEDDA.

Take it--and do you use it now.

LOVBORG.

[Puts the pistol in his breast pocket.] Thanks!

HEDDA.

And beautifully, Eilert Lovborg. Promise me that!

LOVBORG.

Good-bye, Hedda Gabler. [He goes out by the hall door.

[HEDDA listens for a moment at the door. Then she goes up to
the writing-table, takes out the packet of manuscript, peeps
under the cover, draws a few of the sheets half out, and
looks at them. Next she goes over and seats herself in the
arm-chair beside the stove, with the packet in her lap.
Presently she opens the stove door, and then the packet.

HEDDA.

[Throws one of the quires into the fire and whispers to herself.] Now I
am burning your child, Thea!--Burning it, curly-locks! [Throwing one
or two more quires into the stove.] Your child and Eilert Lovborg's.
[Throws the rest in.] I am burning--I am burning your child.

ACT FOURTH