e; I am talking of nothing but my own affairs. (Sits on a
stool near her, and rests her arms on her knees.) You mustn't be angry
with me. Tell me, is it really true that you did not love your husband?
Why did you marry him?

Mrs. Linde. My mother was alive then, and was bedridden and helpless,
and I had to provide for my two younger brothers; so I did not think I
was justified in refusing his offer.

Nora. No, perhaps you were quite right. He was rich at that time, then?

Mrs. Linde. I believe he was quite well off. But his business was a
precarious one; and, when he died, it all went to pieces and there was
nothing left.

Nora. And then?--

Mrs. Linde. Well, I had to turn my hand to anything I could find--first
a small shop, then a small school, and so on. The last three years have
seemed like one long working-day, with no rest. Now it is at an end,
Nora. My poor mother needs me no more, for she is gone; and the boys
do not need me either; they have got situations and can shift for
themselves.

Nora. What a relief you must feel if--

Mrs. Linde. No, indeed; I only feel my life unspeakably empty. No one to
live for anymore. (Gets up restlessly.) That was why I could not stand
the life in my little backwater any longer. I hope it may be easier here
to find something which will busy me and occupy my thoughts. If only I
could have the good luck to get some regular work--office work of some
kind--

Nora. But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look tired
out now. You had far better go away to some watering-place.

Mrs. Linde (walking to the window). I have no father to give me money
for a journey, Nora.

Nora (rising). Oh, don't be angry with me!

Mrs. Linde (going up to her). It is you that must not be angry with me,
dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so bitter.
No one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the lookout for
chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me of
the happy turn your fortunes have taken--you will hardly believe it--I
was delighted not so much on your account as on my own.

Nora. How do you mean?--Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps Torvald
could get you something to do.

Mrs. Linde. Yes, that was what I was thinking of.

Nora. He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the subject
very cleverly--I will think of something that will please him very much.
It will make me so happy to be of some use to