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Stuff
and nonsense! No one will come. Only I mustn't think about it. I
will brush my muff. What lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts,
out of my thoughts! One, two, three, four, five, six--
(Screams.) Ah! there is someone coming--. (Makes a movement
towards the door, but stands irresolute.)

(Enter MRS. LINDE from the hall, where she has taken off her
cloak and hat.)

Nora. Oh, it's you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is
there? How good of you to come!

Mrs. Linde. I heard you were up asking for me.

Nora. Yes, I was passing by. As a matter of fact, it is something
you could help me with. Let us sit down here on the sofa. Look
here. Tomorrow evening there is to be a fancy-dress ball at the
Stenborgs', who live above us; and Torvald wants me to go as a
Neapolitan fisher-girl, and dance the Tarantella that I learned at
Capri.

Mrs. Linde. I see; you are going to keep up the character.

Nora. Yes, Torvald wants me to. Look, here is the dress; Torvald had
it made for me there, but now it is all so torn, and I haven't any
idea--

Mrs. Linde. We will easily put that right. It is only some of the
trimming come unsewn here and there. Needle and thread? Now then,
that's all we want.

Nora. It is nice of you.

Mrs. Linde (sewing). So you are going to be dressed up tomorrow
Nora. I will tell you what--I shall come in for a moment and see
you in your fine feathers. But I have completely forgotten to
thank you for a delightful evening yesterday.

Nora (gets up, and crosses the stage). Well, I don't think
yesterday was as pleasant as usual. You ought to have come to
town a little earlier, Christine. Certainly Torvald does
understand how to make a house dainty and attractive.

Mrs. Linde. And so do you, it seems to me; you are not your
father's daughter for nothing. But tell me, is Doctor Rank always
as depressed as he was yesterday?

Nora. No; yesterday it was very noticeable. I must tell you that
he suffers from a very dangerous disease. He has consumption of
the spine, poor creature. His father was a horrible man who
committed all sorts of excesses; and that is why his son was
sickly from childhood, do you understand?

Mrs. Linde (dropping her sewing). But, my dearest Nora, how do
you know anything about such things?

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