HILDA [Looks keenly at him.]

  You must surely be a very happy man, as matters stand with you.

  SOLNESS [Gloomily.]

  Happy? Do you say that, too—like all the rest of them?

  HILDA

  Yes, I should say you must be. If you could only cease thinking about the two little children——

  SOLNESS [Slowly.]

  The two little children—they are not so easy to forget, Hilda.

  HILDA [Somewhat uncertainly.]

  Do you still feel their loss so much—after all these years?

  SOLNESS [Looks fixedly at her, without replying.]

  A happy man you said——

  HILDA

  Well, now, are you not happy—in other respects?

  SOLNESS [Continues to look at her.]

  When I told you all this about the fire—h’m——

  HILDA

  Well?

  SOLNESS

  Was there not one special thought that you—that you seized upon?

  HILDA [Reflects in vain.]

  No. What thought should that be?

  SOLNESS [With subdued emphasis.]

  It was simply and solely by that fire that I was enabled to build homes for human beings. Cosy, comfortable, bright homes, where father and mother and the whole troop of children can live in safety and gladness, feeling what a happy thing it is to be alive in the world—and most of all to belong to each other—in great things and in small.

  HILDA [Ardently.]

  Well, and is it not a great happiness for you to be able to build such beautiful homes?

  SOLNESS

  The price, Hilda! The terrible price I had to pay for the opportunity!

  HILDA

  But can you never get over that?

  SOLNESS

  No. That I might build homes for others, I had to forego—to forego for all time—the home that might have been my own. I mean a home for a troop of children—and for father and mother, too.

  HILDA [Cautiously.]

  But need you have done that? For all time, you say?

  SOLNESS [Nods slowly.]

  That was the price of this happiness that people talk about. [Breathes heavily.] This happiness—h’m—this happiness was not to be bought any cheaper, Hilda.

  HILDA [As before.]

  But may it not come right even yet?

  SOLNESS

  Never in this world—never. That is another consequence of the fire—and of Aline’s illness afterwards.

  HILDA [Looks at him with an indefinable expression.]

  And yet you build all these nurseries?

  SOLNESS [Seriously.]

  Have you never noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it

  seems to beckon and cry aloud to one?

  HILDA [Reflecting.]

  The impossible?

  [With animation.]

  Yes, indeed! Is that how you feel too?

  SOLNESS

  Yes, I do.

  HILDA

  Then there must be—a little of the troll in you too.

  SOLNESS

  Why of the troll?

  HILDA

  What would you call it, then?

  SOLNESS [Rises.]

  Well, well, perhaps you are right.

  [Vehemently.]

  But how can I help turning into a troll, when this is how it

  always goes with me in everything—in everything!

  HILDA

  How do you mean?

  SOLNESS [Speaking low, with inward emotion.]

  Mark what I say to you, Hilda. All that I have succeeded in doing,

  building, creating—all the beauty, security, cheerful comfort—

  ay, and magnificence too—

  [Clenches his hands.]

  Oh, is it not terrible even to think of——!

  HILDA

  What is so terrible?

  SOLNESS

  That all this I have to make up for, to pay for—not in money, but

  in human happiness. And not with my own happiness only, but

  with other people’s too. Yes, yes, do you see that, Hilda? That is

  the price which my position as an artist has cost me—and

  others. And every single day I have to look on while the price is

  paid for me anew. Over again, and over again—and over again

  for ever!

  HILDA [Rises and looks steadily at him.]

  Now I can see that you are thinking of—of her.

  SOLNESS

  Yes, mainly of Aline. For Aline—she, too, had her vocation in

  life, just as much as I had mine.

  [His voice quivers.]

  But her vocation has had to be stunted, and crushed, and

  shattered—in order that mine might force its way to—to a sort

  of great victory. For you must know that Aline—she, too, had a

  talent for building.

  HILDA

  She! For building?

  SOLNESS [Shakes his head.]

  Not houses and towers, and spires—not such things as I work away at——

  HILDA

  Well, but what then?

  SOLNESS [Softly, with emotion.]

  For building up the souls of little children, Hilda. For building up children’s souls in perfect balance, and in noble and beautiful forms. For enabling them to soar up into erect and full-grown human souls. That was Aline’s talent. And there it all lies now—unused and unusable for ever—of no earthly service to any one—just like the ruins left by a fire.

  HILDA

  Yes, but even if this were so——?

  SOLNESS

  It is so! It is so! I know it!

  HILDA

  Well, but in any case it is not your fault.

  SOLNESS [Fixes his eyes on her, and nods slowly.]

  Ah, that is the great, the terrible question. That is the doubt that is gnawing me—night and day.

  HILDA

  That?

  SOLNESS

  Yes. Suppose the fault was mine—in a certain sense.

  HILDA

  Your fault! The fire!

  SOLNESS

  All of it; the whole thing. And yet, perhaps—I may not have had anything to do with it.

  HILDA [Looks at him with a troubled expression.]

  Oh, Mr. Solness—if you can talk like that, I am afraid you must be—ill, after all.

  SOLNESS

  H’m—I don’t think I shall ever be of quite sound mind on that point.

  RAGNAR BROVIK cautiously opens the little door in the left-hand corner. HILDA comes forward.

  RAGNAR [When he sees HILDA.]

  Oh. I beg pardon, Mr. Solness——

  [He makes a movement to withdraw.]

  SOLNESS

  No, no, don’t go. Let us get it over.

  RAGNAR

  Oh, yes—if only we could.

  SOLNESS

  I hear your father is no better?

  RAGNAR

  Father is fast growing weaker—and therefore I beg and implore

  you to write a few kind words for me on one of the plans!

  Something for father to read before he——

  SOLNESS [Vehemently.]

  I won’t hear anything more about those drawings of yours!

  RAGNAR

  Have you looked at them?

  SOLNESS

  Yes—I have.

  RAGNAR

  And they are good for nothing? And I am good for nothing, too?

  SOLNESS [Evasively.]

  Stay here with me, Ragnar. You shall have everything your own way. And then you can marry Kaia, and live at your ease—and happily too, who knows? Only don’t think of building on your own account.

  RAGNAR

  Well, well, then I must go home and tell father what you say—I promised I would.—Is this what I am to tell father—before he dies?

  SOLNESS [With a groan.]

  Oh tell him—tell him what you will, for me. Best to say nothing

  at all to him!

  [With a sudden outburst.]

  I cannot do anything else, Ragnar!

  RAGNAR

  May I have the drawings to take with me?

  SOLNESS

  Yes, take them—take them by all means! They are lying there on the table.

  RAGNAR [Goes to the table.]

  Thanks.

  HILDA [Puts her hand on the portfolio.]

  No, no; leave them here.

  SOLNESS

  Why?

  HILDA

  Because I want to look at them, too.

  SOLNESS

  But you have been——

  [To RAGNAR.]

  Well, leave them here, then.

  RAGNAR

  Very well.

  SOLNESS

  And go home at once to your father.

  RAGNAR

  Yes, I suppose I must.

  SOLNESS [As if in desperation.]

  Ragnar—you must not ask me to do what is beyond my power! Do you hear, Ragnar? You must not!

  RAGNAR

  No, no. I beg your pardon——

  [He bows, and goes out by the corner door. HILDA goes over and sits down

  on a chair near the mirror.]

  HILDA [Looks angrily at SOLNESS.]

  That was a very ugly thing to do.

  SOLNESS

  Do you think so, too?

  HILDA

  Yes, it was horribly ugly—and hard and bad and cruel as well.

  SOLNESS

  Oh, you don’t understand my position.

  HILDA

  No matter——. I say you ought not to be like that.

  SOLNESS

  You said yourself, only just now, that no one but I ought to be allowed to build.

  HILDA

  I may say such things—but you must not.

  SOLNESS

  I most of all, surely, who have paid so dear for my position.

  HILDA

  Oh yes—with what you call domestic comfort—and that sort of thing.

  SOLNESS

  And with my peace of soul into the bargain.

  HILDA [Rising.]

  Peace of soul!

  [With feeling.]

  Yes, yes, you are right in that! Poor Mr. Solness—you fancy

  that——

  SOLNESS [With a quiet, chuckling laugh.]

  Just sit down again, Hilda, and I’ll tell you something funny.

  HILDA [Sits down; with intent interest.]

  Well?

  SOLNESS

  It sounds such a ludicrous little thing; for, you see, the whole story turns upon nothing but a crack in a chimney.

  HILDA

  No more than that?

  SOLNESS

  No, not to begin with.

  [He moves a chair nearer to HILDA and sits down.]

  HILDA [Impatiently, taps on her knee.]

  Well, now for the crack in the chimney!

  SOLNESS

  I had noticed the split in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I went up into the attic, I looked to see if it was still there.

  HILDA

  And it was?

  SOLNESS

  Yes; for no one else knew about it.

  HILDA

  And you said nothing?

  SOLNESS

  Nothing.

  HILDA

  And did not think of repairing the flue either?

  SOLNESS

  Oh yes, I thought about it—but never got any further. Every time I intended to set to work, it seemed just as if a hand held me back. Not to-day, I thought—tomorrow; and nothing ever came of it.

  HILDA

  But why did you keep putting it off like that?

  SOLNESS

  Because I was revolving something in my mind.

  [Slowly, and in a low voice.]

  Through that little black crack in the chimney, I might, perhaps,

  force my way upwards—as a builder.

  HILDA [Looking straight in front of her.]

  That must have been thrilling.

  SOLNESS

  Almost irresistible—quite irresistible. For at that time it appeared to me a perfectly simple and straight-forward matter. I would have had it happen in the winter-time—a little before midday. I was to be out driving Aline in the sleigh. The servants at home would have made huge fires in the stoves.

  HILDA

  For, of course, it was to be bitterly cold that day?

  SOLNESS

  Rather biting, yes—and they would want Aline to find it thoroughly snug and warm when she came home.

  HILDA

  I suppose she is very chilly by nature?

  SOLNESS

  She is. And as we drove home, we were to see the smoke.

  HILDA

  Only the smoke?

  SOLNESS

  The smoke first. But when we came up to the garden gate, the whole of the old timber-box was to be a rolling mass of flames.—That is how I wanted it to be, you see.

  HILDA

  Oh why, why could it not have happened so!

  SOLNESS

  You may well say that, Hilda.

  HILDA

  Well, but now listen, Mr. Solness. Are you perfectly certain that the fire was caused by that little crack in the chimney!

  SOLNESS

  No, on the contrary—I am perfectly certain that the crack in the chimney had nothing whatever to do with the fire.

  HILDA

  What!

  SOLNESS

  It has been clearly ascertained that the fire broke out in a clothes-cupboard—in a totally different part of the house.

  HILDA Then what is all this nonsense you are talking about the crack in the chimney!

  SOLNESS

  May I go on talking to you a little, Hilda?

  HILDA

  Yes, if you’ll only talk sensibly——

  SOLNESS

  I will try to.

  [He moves his chair nearer.]

  HILDA

  Out with it, then, Mr. Solness.

  SOLNESS [Confidentially.]

  Don’t you agree with me, Hilda, that there exist special, chosen people who have been endowed with the power and faculty of desiring a thing, craving for a thing, willing a thing—so persistently and so—so inexorably—that at last it has to happen? Don’t you believe that?

  HILDA [With an indefinable expression in her eyes.]

  If that is so, we shall see, one of these days, whether I am one of the chosen.

  SOLNESS

  It is not one’s self alone that can do such great things. Oh, no—the helpers and the servers—they must do their part too, if it is to be of any good. But they never come of themselves. One has to call upon them very persistently—inwardly, you understand.

  HILDA

  What are these helpers and servers?

  SOLNESS

  Oh, we can talk about that some other time. For the present, let us keep to this business of the fire.

  HILDA

  Don’t you think that fire would have happened all the same—even without your wishing for it?

  SOLNESS

  If the house had been old Knut Brovik’s it would never have

  burnt down so conveniently for him. I am sure of that; for he

  does not know how to call for the helpers—no, nor for the

  servers, either.

  [Rises in unrest.]

  So you see, Hilda—it is my fault, after all, that the lives of the

  two little boys had to be sacrificed. And do you think it is not my

  fault, too, that Aline has never been the woman she should and

  might have been—and that she most longed to be?

  HILDA

  Yes, but if it is all the work of those helpers and servers——?

  SOLNESS

  Who called for the helpers and servers? It was I! And they came

  and obeyed my will.

  [In increasing excitement.]

  That is what people call having the luck on your side; but I must

  tell you what this sort of luck feels like! It feels like a great raw

  place here on my breast. And the helpers and servers keep on

  flaying pieces of skin off other people in order to close my

  sore!—But still the sore is not healed—never, never! Oh, if you

  knew how it can sometimes gnaw and burn!

  HILDA [Looks attentively at him.]

  You are ill, Mr. Solness. Very ill, I almost think.

  SOLNESS

  Say mad; for that is what you mean.

  HILDA

  No, I don’t think there is much amiss with your intellect.

  SOLNESS

  With what then? Out with it!

  HILDA

  I wonder whether you were not sent into the world with a sickly conscience.

  SOLNESS

  A sickly conscience? What deviltry is that?

  HILDA

  I mean that your conscience is feeble—too delicately built, as it were—hasn’t strength to take a grip of things—to lift and bear what is heavy.