Mrs. Elvsted.
Have you not the power?
Hedda.
I have not—and have never had it.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Not your husband's?
Hedda.
Do you think that is worth the trouble? Oh, if you could only understand how poor I am. And fate has made you so rich! [Clasps her passionately in her arms.] I think I must burn your hair off, after all.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Let me go! Let me go! I am afraid of you, Hedda!
Berta.
[In the middle doorway.] Tea is laid in the dining-room, ma'am.
Hedda.
Very well. We are coming.
Mrs. Elvsted.
No, no, no! I would rather go home alone! At once!
Hedda.
Nonsense! First you shall have a cup of tea, you little stupid. And then—at ten o'clock—Eilert Lövborg will be here—with vine-leaves in his hair.
[She drags Mrs. Elvsted almost by force towards the middle doorway.
