.

The same rooms at the TESMANS'. It is evening. The drawing-
room is in darkness. The back room is light by the hanging
lamp over the table. The curtains over the glass door are
drawn close.

HEDDA, dressed in black, walks to and fro in the dark room.
Then she goes into the back room and disappears for a moment
to the left. She is heard to strike a few chords on the
piano. Presently she comes in sight again, and returns to
the drawing-room.

BERTA enters from the right, through the inner room, with a
lighted lamp, which she places on the table in front of the
corner settee in the drawing-room. Her eyes are red with
weeping, and she has black ribbons in her cap. She goes
quietly and circumspectly out to the right. HEDDA goes up
to the glass door, lifts the curtain a little aside, and
looks out into the darkness.

Shortly afterwards, MISS TESMAN, in mourning, with a bonnet
and veil on, comes in from the hall. HEDDA goes towards her
and holds out her hand.

MISS TESMAN.

Yes, Hedda, here I am, in mourning and forlorn; for now my poor sister
has at last found peace.

HEDDA.

I have heard the news already, as you see. Tesman sent me a card.

MISS TESMAN.

Yes, he promised me he would. But nevertheless I thought that to
Hedda--here in the house of life--I ought myself to bring the tidings of
death.

HEDDA.

That was very kind of you.

MISS TESMAN.

Ah, Rina ought not to have left us just now. This is not the time for
Hedda's house to be a house of mourning.

HEDDA.

[Changing the subject.] She died quite peacefully, did she not, Miss
Tesman?

MISS TESMAN.

Oh, her end was so calm, so beautiful. And then she had the unspeakable
happiness of seeing George once more--and bidding him good-bye.--Has he
not come home yet?

HEDDA.

No. He wrote that he might be detained. But won't you sit down?

MISS TESMAN.

No thank you, my dear, dear Hedda. I should like to, but I have so much
to do. I must prepare my dear one for her rest as well as I can. She
shall go to her grave looking her best.

HEDDA.

Can I not help you in any way?

MISS TESMAN.

Oh, you must not think of it! Hedda Tesman must have no hand in such
mournful work. Nor let her thought dwell on it either--not at this time.

HEDDA.

One is not always mistress of one's thoughts--

MISS TESMAN.

[Continuing.] Ah yes, it is the way of the world. At home we s