anuscript; but now I hear he destroyed
that himself. So I suppose it must have been his pocket-book.

HEDDA.

Yes, no doubt. And there--there he was found?

BRACK.

Yes, there. With a pistol in his breast-pocket, discharged. The ball had
lodged in a vital part.

HEDDA.

In the breast--yes?

BRACK.

No--in the bowels.

HEDDA.

[Looks up at him with an expression of loathing.] That too! Oh, what
curse is it that makes everything I touch turn ludicrous and mean?

BRACK.

There is one point more, Mrs. Hedda--another disagreeable feature in the
affair.

HEDDA.

And what is that?

BRACK.

The pistol he carried--

HEDDA.

[Breathless.] Well? What of it?

BRACK.

He must have stolen it.

HEDDA.

[Leaps up.] Stolen it! That is not true! He did not steal it!

BRACK.

No other explanation is possible. He must have stolen it--. Hush!

TESMAN and MRS. ELVSTED have risen from the table in the back-
room, and come into the drawing-room.

TESMAN.

[With the papers in both his hands.] Hedda, dear, it is almost
impossible to see under that lamp. Think of that!

HEDDA.

Yes, I am thinking.

TESMAN.

Would you mind our sitting at you writing-table--eh?

HEDDA.

If you like. [Quickly.] No, wait! Let me clear it first!

TESMAN.

Oh, you needn't trouble, Hedda. There is plenty of room.

HEDDA.

No no, let me clear it, I say! I will take these things in and put them
on the piano. There!

[She has drawn out an object, covered with sheet music, from
under the bookcase, places several other pieces of music upon
it, and carries the whole into the inner room, to the left.
TESMAN lays the scraps of paper on the writing-table, and moves
the lamp there from the corner table. He and Mrs. Elvsted sit
down and proceed with their work. HEDDA returns.

HEDDA.

[Behind Mrs. Elvsted's chair, gently ruffling her hair.] Well, my sweet
Thea,--how goes it with Eilert Lovborg's monument?

MRS. ELVSTED.

[Looks dispiritedly up at her.] Oh, it will be terribly hard to put in
order.

TESMAN.

We must manage it. I am determined. And arranging other people's papers
is just the work for me.

[HEDDA goes over to the stove, and seats herself on one of the
footstools. BRACK stands over her, leaning on the arm-chair.

HEDDA.

[Whispers.] What did you say about the pistol?

BRACK.

[Softly.] T