Hedda. No, I should never think of being anxious. But I asked if you had enjoyed yourself.
Tesman. Oh yes,—for once in a way. Especially the beginning of the evening; for then Eilert read me part of his book. We arrived more than an hour too early—fancy that! And Brack had all sorts of arrangements to make—so Eilert read to me.
Hedda. [Seating herself by the table on the right.] Well? Tell me, then
Tesman. [Sitting on a footstool near the stove.] Oh Hedda, you can't conceive what a book that is going to be! I believe it is one of the most remarkable things that have ever been written. Fancy that!
Hedda. Yes yes; I don't care about that
Tesman. I must make a confession to you, Hedda. When he had finished reading—a horrid feeling came over me.
Hedda. A horrid feeling?
Tesman. I felt jealous of Eilert for having had it in him to write such a book. Only think, Hedda!
Hedda. Yes, yes, I am thinking!
