Experience Seamless Full Ebook Downloads for Every Genre at ebookmeta.

com

Rust High Performance Learn to skyrocket the

performance of your Rust applications 1st Edition
Iban Eguia Moraza

https://ebookmeta.com/product/rust-high-performance-learn-
to-skyrocket-the-performance-of-your-rust-applications-1st-
edition-iban-eguia-moraza/

OR CLICK BUTTON

DOWNLOAD NOW

Explore and download more ebook at https://ebookmeta.com

Rust High Performance

Learn to skyrocket the performance of your Rust applications

Iban Eguia Moraza
BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
Rust High Performance

Copyright © 2018 Packt Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the accuracy of the information
presented. However, the information contained in this book is sold without warranty, either express or implied.
Neither the author, nor Packt Publishing or its dealers and distributors, will be held liable for any damages
caused or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly by this book.

Packt Publishing has endeavored to provide trademark information about all of the companies and products
mentioned in this book by the appropriate use of capitals. However, Packt Publishing cannot guarantee the
accuracy of this information.

Commissioning Editor: Merint Mathew

Acquisition Editor: Sandeep Mishra
Content Development Editor: Akshada Iyer
Technical Editor: Abhishek Sharma
Copy Editor: Safis Editing
Project Coordinator: Prajakta Naik
Proofreader: Safis Editing
Indexer: Mariammal Chettiyar
Graphics: Jisha Chirayil
Production Coordinator: Arvindkumar Gupta

First published: March 2018

Production reference: 1270318

Published by Packt Publishing Ltd.

Livery Place
35 Livery Street
Birmingham
B3 2PB, UK.

ISBN 978-1-78839-948-7

www.packtpub.com
To my father, Manu, and to the memory of my mother, Arantza, for giving me all the opportunities I had in my
life, and for being there when I most needed it.
mapt.io

Mapt is an online digital library that gives you full access to over
5,000 books and videos, as well as industry leading tools to help you
plan your personal development and advance your career. For more
information, please visit our website.
Why subscribe?
Spend less time learning and more time coding with practical
eBooks and Videos from over 4,000 industry professionals

Improve your learning with Skill Plans built especially for you

Get a free eBook or video every month

Mapt is fully searchable

Copy and paste, print, and bookmark content

PacktPub.com
Did you know that Packt offers eBook versions of every book
published, with PDF and ePub files available? You can upgrade to the
eBook version at www.PacktPub.com and as a print book customer, you are
entitled to a discount on the eBook copy. Get in touch with us at
[email protected] for more details.

At www.PacktPub.com, you can also read a collection of free technical

articles, sign up for a range of free newsletters, and receive
exclusive discounts and offers on Packt books and eBooks.
Contributors
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
 Tesman.
[Moving about uneasily.] We must hope—we must hope that you
misunderstood them, Mrs. Elvsted.
Mrs. Elvsted.
No, no; I am sure it was of him they were talking. And I heard
something about the hospital or——
Tesman.
The hospital?
Hedda.
No—surely that cannot be!
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, I was in such mortal terror! I went to his lodgings and asked
for him there.
Hedda.
You could make up your mind to that, Thea!
Mrs. Elvsted.
What else could I do? I really could bear the suspense no longer.
Tesman.
But you didn’t find him either—eh?
Mrs. Elvsted.
No. And the people knew nothing about him. He hadn’t been
home since yesterday afternoon, they said.
Tesman.
Yesterday! Fancy, how could they say that?
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, I am sure something terrible must have happened to him.
 Tesman.
Hedda dear—how would it be if I were to go and make inquiries
——?
Hedda.
No, no—don’t you mix yourself up in this affair.
Judge Brack, with his hat in his hand, enters by the hall door, which
Berta opens, and closes behind him. He looks grave and bows in
silence.
Tesman.
Oh, is that you, my dear Judge? Eh?
 Brack.
Yes. It was imperative I should see you this evening.
Tesman.
I can see you have heard the news about Aunt Rina?
Brack.
Yes, that among other things.
Tesman.
Isn’t it sad—eh?
Brack.
Well, my dear Tesman, that depends on how you look at it.
Tesman.
[Looks doubtfully at him.] Has anything else happened?
Brack.
Yes.
Hedda.
[In suspense.] Anything sad, Judge Brack?
Brack.
That, too, depends on how you look at it, Mrs. Tesman.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Unable to restrain her anxiety.] Oh! it is something about Eilert
Lövborg!
Brack.
[With a glance at her.] What makes you think that, Madam?
Perhaps you have already heard something——?
Mrs. Elvsted.
[In confusion.] No, nothing at all, but——
 Tesman.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell us!
Brack.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] Well, I regret to say Eilert Lövborg has
been taken to the hospital. He is lying at the point of death.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Shrieks.] Oh God! oh God——!
Tesman.
To the hospital! And at the point of death!
Hedda.
[Involuntarily.] So soon then——
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Wailing.] And we parted in anger, Hedda!
Hedda.
[Whispers.] Thea—Thea—be careful!
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Not heeding her.] I must go to him! I must see him alive!
Brack.
It is useless, Madam. No one will be admitted.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, at least tell me what has happened to him? What is it?
Tesman.
You don’t mean to say that he has himself——Eh?
Hedda.
Yes, I am sure he has.
Tesman.
 Hedda, how can you——?
Brack.
[Keeping his eyes fixed upon her.] Unfortunately you have guessed
quite correctly, Mrs. Tesman.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, how horrible!
Tesman.
Himself, then! Fancy that!
Hedda.
Shot himself!
Brack.
Rightly guessed again, Mrs. Tesman.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[With an effort at self-control.] When did it happen, Mr. Brack?
Brack.
This afternoon—between three and four.
Tesman.
But, good Lord, where did he do it? Eh?
Brack.
[With some hesitation.] Where? Well—I suppose at his lodgings.
Mrs. Elvsted.
No, that cannot be; for I was there between six and seven.
Brack.
Well then, somewhere else. I don’t know exactly. I only know that
he was found——. He had shot himself—in the breast.
Mrs. Elvsted.
 Oh, how terrible! That he should die like that!
Hedda.
[To Brack.] Was it in the breast?
Brack.
Yes—as I told you.
Hedda.
Not in the temple?
Brack.
In the breast, Mrs. Tesman.
Hedda.
Well, well—the breast is a good place, too.
Brack.
How do you mean, Mrs. Tesman?
Hedda.
[Evasively.] Oh, nothing—nothing.
Tesman.
And the wound is dangerous, you say—eh?
Brack.
Absolutely mortal. The end has probably come by this time.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, yes, I feel it. The end! The end! Oh, Hedda——!
Tesman.
But tell me, how have you learnt all this?
Brack.
[Curtly.] Through one of the police. A man I had some business
with.
 Hedda.
[In a clear voice.] At last a deed worth doing!
Tesman.
[Terrified.] Good heavens, Hedda! what are you saying?
Hedda.
I say there is beauty in this.
Brack.
H’m, Mrs. Tesman——
Tesman.
Beauty! Fancy that!
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, Hedda, how can you talk of beauty in such an act!
Hedda.
Eilert Lövborg has himself made up his account with life. He has
had the courage to do—the one right thing.
Mrs. Elvsted.
No, you must never think that was how it happened! It must have
been in delirium that he did it.
Tesman.
In despair!
Hedda.
That he did not. I am certain of that.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, yes! In delirium! Just as when he tore up our manuscript.
Brack.
[Starting.] The manuscript? Has he torn that up?
 Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, last night.
Tesman.
[Whispers softly.] Oh, Hedda, we shall never get over this.
Brack.
H’m, very extraordinary.
Tesman.
[Moving about the room.] To think of Eilert going out of the world
in this way! And not leaving behind him the book that would have
immortalised his name——
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, if only it could be put together again!
Tesman.
Yes, if it only could! I don’t know what I would not give——
Mrs. Elvsted.
Perhaps it can, Mr. Tesman.
Tesman.
What do you mean?
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Searches in the pocket of her dress.] Look here. I have kept all
the loose notes he used to dictate from.
Hedda.
[A step forward.] Ah——!
Tesman.
You have kept them, Mrs. Elvsted! Eh?
Mrs. Elvsted.
 Yes, I have them here. I put them in my pocket when I left home.
Here they still are——
Tesman.
Oh, do let me see them!
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Hands him a bundle of papers.] But they are in such disorder—all
mixed up.
Tesman.
Fancy, if we could make something out of them, after all! Perhaps
if we two put our heads together——
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh yes, at least let us try——
Tesman.
We will manage it! We must! I will dedicate my life to this task
Hedda.
You, George? Your life?
Tesman.
Yes, or rather all the time I can spare. My own collections must
wait in the meantime. Hedda—you understand, eh? I owe this to
Eilert’s memory.
Hedda.
Perhaps.
Tesman.
And so, my dear Mrs. Elvsted, we will give our whole minds to it.
There is no use in brooding over what can’t be undone—eh? We
must try to control our grief as much as possible, and——
Mrs. Elvsted.
 Yes, yes, Mr. Tesman, I will do the best I can.
Tesman.
Well then, come here. I can’t rest until we have looked through
the notes. Where shall we sit? Here? No, in there, in the back room.
Excuse me, my dear Judge. Come with me, Mrs. Elvsted.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, if only it were possible!
[Tesman and Mrs. Elvsted go into the back room. She takes
off her hat and cloak. They both sit at the table under
the hanging lamp, and are soon deep in an eager
examination of the papers. Hedda crosses to the stove
and sits in the arm-chair. Presently Brack goes up to her.
Hedda.
[In a low voice.] Oh, what a sense of freedom it gives one, this
act of Eilert Lövborg’s.
Brack.
Freedom, Mrs. Hedda? Well, of course, it is a release for him——
Hedda.
I mean for me. It gives me a sense of freedom to know that a
deed of deliberate courage is still possible in this world,—a deed of
spontaneous beauty.
Brack.
[Smiling.] H’m—my dear Mrs. Hedda——
Hedda.
Oh, I know what you are going to say. For you are a kind of
specialist too, like—you know!
Brack.
 [Looking hard at her.] Eilert Lövborg was more to you than
perhaps you are willing to admit to yourself. Am I wrong?
Hedda.
I don’t answer such questions. I only know that Eilert Lövborg has
had the courage to live his life after his own fashion. And then—the
last great act, with its beauty! Ah! that he should have the will and
the strength to turn away from the banquet of life—so early.
Brack.
I am sorry, Mrs. Hedda,—but I fear I must dispel an amiable
illusion.
Hedda.
Illusion?
Brack.
Which could not have lasted long in any case.
Hedda.
What do you mean?
Brack.
Eilert Lövborg did not shoot himself—voluntarily.
Hedda.
Not voluntarily?
Brack.
No. The thing did not happen exactly as I told it.
Hedda.
[In suspense.] Have you concealed something? What is it?
Brack.
For poor Mrs. Elvsted’s sake I idealised the facts a little.
Hedda.
 What are the facts?
Brack.
First, that he is already dead.
Hedda.
At the hospital?
Brack.
Yes—without regaining consciousness.
Hedda.
What more have you concealed?
Brack.
This—the event did not happen at his lodgings.
Hedda.
Oh, that can make no difference.
Brack.
Perhaps it may. For I must tell you—Eilert Lövborg was found shot
in—in Mademoiselle Diana’s boudoir.
Hedda.
[Makes a motion as if to rise, but sinks back again.] That is
impossible, Judge Brack! He cannot have been there again to-day.
Brack.
He was there this afternoon. He went there, he said, to demand
the return of something which they had taken from him. Talked
wildly about a lost child——
Hedda.
Ah—so that was why——
Brack.
 I thought probably he meant his manuscript; 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 your 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 Lövborg’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.] That he must have stolen it.
Hedda.
Why stolen it?
Brack.
Because every other explanation ought to be impossible, Mrs.
Hedda.
Hedda.
Indeed?
Brack.
[Glances at her.] Of course Eilert Lövborg was here this morning.
Was he not?
Hedda.
Yes.
Brack.
Were you alone with him?
Hedda.
Part of the time.
Brack.
Did you not leave the room whilst he was here?
Hedda.
No.
Brack.
Try to recollect. Were you not out of the room a moment?
Hedda.
Yes, perhaps just a moment—out in the hall.
Brack.
And where was your pistol case during that time?
Hedda.
I had it locked up in——
Brack.
Well, Mrs. Hedda?
Hedda.
The case stood there on the writing-table.
Brack.
Have you looked since, to see whether both the pistols are there?
Hedda.
No.
 Brack.
Well, you need not. I saw the pistol found in Lövborg’s pocket,
and I knew it at once as the one I had seen yesterday—and before,
too.
Hedda.
Have you it with you?
Brack.
No; the police have it.
Hedda.
What will the police do with it?
Brack.
Search till they find the owner.
Hedda.
Do you think they will succeed?
Brack.
[Bends over her and whispers.] No, Hedda Gabler—not so long as
I say nothing.
Hedda.
[Looks frightened at him.] And if you do not say nothing,—what
then?
Brack.
[Shrugs his shoulders.] There is always the possibility that the
pistol was stolen.
Hedda.
[Firmly.] Death rather than that.
Brack.
[Smiling.] People say such things—but they don’t do them.
 Hedda.
[Without replying.] And supposing the pistol was not stolen, and
the owner is discovered? What then?
Brack.
Well, Hedda—then comes the scandal.
Hedda.
The scandal!
Brack.
Yes, the scandal—of which you are so mortally afraid. You will, of
course, be brought before the court—both you and Mademoiselle
Diana. She will have to explain how the thing happened—whether it
was an accidental shot or murder. Did the pistol go off as he was
trying to take it out of his pocket, to threaten her with? Or did she
tear the pistol out of his hand, shoot him, and push it back into his
pocket? That would be quite like her; for she is an able-bodied
young person, this same Mademoiselle Diana.
Hedda.
But I have nothing to do with all this repulsive business.
Brack.
No. But you will have to answer the question: Why did you give
Eilert Lövborg the pistol? And what conclusions will people draw
from the fact that you did give it to him?
Hedda.
[Lets her head sink.] That is true. I did not think of that.
Brack.
Well, fortunately, there is no danger, so long as I say nothing.
Hedda.
 [Looks up at him.] So I am in your power, Judge Brack. You have
me at your beck and call, from this time forward.
Brack.
[Whispers softly.] Dearest Hedda—believe me—I shall not abuse
my advantage.
Hedda.
I am in your power none the less. Subject to your will and your
demands. A slave, a slave then! [Rises impetuously.] No, I cannot
endure the thought of that! Never!
Brack.
[Looks half-mockingly at her.] People generally get used to the
inevitable.
Hedda.
[Returns his look.] Yes, perhaps. [She crosses to the writing-table.
Suppressing an involuntary smile, she imitates Tesman’s intonations.]
Well? Are you getting on, George? Eh?
Tesman.
Heaven knows, dear. In any case it will be the work of months.
Hedda.
[As before.] Fancy that! [Passes her hands softly through Mrs.
Elvsted’s hair.] Doesn’t it seem strange to you, Thea? Here are you
sitting with Tesman—just as you used to sit with Eilert Lövborg?
Mrs. Elvsted.
Ah, if I could only inspire your husband in the same way!
Hedda.
Oh, that will come too—in time.
Tesman.
 Yes, do you know, Hedda—I really think I begin to feel something
of the sort. But won’t you go and sit with Brack again?
Hedda.
Is there nothing I can do to help you two?
Tesman.
No, nothing in the world. [Turning his head.] I trust to you to keep
Hedda company, my dear Brack!
Brack.
[With a glance at Hedda.] With the very greatest of pleasure.
Hedda.
Thanks. But I am tired this evening. I will go in and lie down a
little on the sofa.
Tesman.
Yes, do dear—eh?
[Hedda goes into the back room and draws the curtains. A
short pause. Suddenly she is heard playing a wild dance
on the piano.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Starts from her chair.] Oh—what is that?
Tesman.
[Runs to the doorway.] Why, my dearest Hedda—don’t play dance-
music to-night! Just think of Aunt Rina! And of Eilert too!
Hedda.
[Puts her head out between the curtains.] And of Aunt Julia. And
of all the rest of them.—After this, I will be quiet. [Closes the
curtains again.]
Tesman.
 [At the writing-table.] It’s not good for her to see us at this
distressing work. I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Elvsted,—you shall take the
empty room at Aunt Julia’s, and then I will come over in the
evenings, and we can sit and work there—eh?
Hedda.
[In the inner room.] I hear what you are saying, Tesman. But how
am I to get through the evenings out here?
Tesman.
[Turning over the papers.] Oh, I daresay Judge Brack will be so
kind as to look in now and then, even though I am out.
Brack.
[In the arm-chair, calls out gaily.] Every blessëd evening, with all
the pleasure in life, Mrs. Tesman! We shall get on capitally together,
we two!
Hedda.
[Speaking loud and clear.] Yes, don’t you flatter yourself we will,
Judge Brack? Now that you are the one cock in the basket——
[A shot is heard within. Tesman, Mrs. Elvsted, and Brack leap
to their feet.
Tesman.
Oh, now she is playing with those pistols again.
[He throws back the curtains and runs in, followed by Mrs.
Elvsted. Hedda lies stretched on the sofa, lifeless.
Confusion and cries. Berta enters in alarm from the right.
Tesman.
[Shrieks to Brack.] Shot herself! Shot herself in the temple! Fancy
that!
Brack.
 [Half-fainting in the arm-chair.] Good God!—people don’t do such
things.

1. Letters 214, 216, 217, 219.

2. In the Ibsen volume of Die Literatur (Berlin).
3. Dr. Julius Elias (Neue deutsche Rundschau, December 1906, p.
1462) makes the curious assertion that the character of Thea Elvsted
was in part borrowed from this “Gossensasser Hildetypus.” It is hard
to see how even Ibsen’s ingenuity could distil from the same flower
two such different essences as Thea and Hilda.
4. See article by Herman Bang in Neue deutsche Rundschau,
December 1906, p. 1495.
5. Dr. Brahm (Neue deutsche Rundschau, December 1906, p.
1422) says that, after the first performance of Hedda Gabler in
Berlin, Ibsen confided to him that the character had been suggested
by a German lady whom he met in Munich, and who did not shoot,
but poisoned herself. Nothing more seems to be known of this lady.
See, too, an article by Julius Elias in the same magazine, p. 1460.
6. ”To the May-sun of a September life—in Tyrol.“
7. ”High, painful happiness—to struggle for the unattainable!“
8. Neue deutsche Rundschau, December 1906, p. 1462.
9. This conception I have worked out at much greater length in an
essay, entitled The Melody of the Master Builder, appended to the
shilling edition of the play, published in 1893. I there retell the story,
transplanting it to England and making the hero a journalist instead
of an architect, in order to show that (if we grant the reality of
certain commonly-accepted phenomena of hypnotism) there is
nothing incredible or even extravagantly improbable about it. The
argument is far too long to be included here, but the reader who is
interested in the subject may find it worth referring to.
10. For an instance of the technical methods by which he
suggested the supernormal element in the atmosphere of the play,
see Introduction to A Doll’s House, p. xiv.
11. Tesman, whose Christian name in the original is “Jörgen,” is
described as “stipendiat i kulturhistorie”—that is to say, the holder of
a scholarship for purposes of research into the History of Civilisation.
12. In the original “Assessor.”
13. Pronounce Reena.
14. In the original, ”Statsrådinde Falks villa“—showing that it had
belonged to the widow of a cabinet minister.
15. Du = thou; Tesman means, “If you could persuade yourself to
tutoyer her.”
16. See footnote, p. 27.
17. Pronounce Tora and Taya.
18. Mrs. Elvsted here uses the formal pronoun De, whereupon
Hedda rebukes her. In her next speech Mrs. Elvsted says du.
19. “Bagveje” means both “back ways” and “underhand courses.”
20. As this form of address is contrary to English usage, and as
the note of familiarity would be lacking in “Mrs. Tesman,” Brack may,
in stage representation, say “Miss Hedda,” thus ignoring her
marriage and reverting to the form of address no doubt customary
between them of old.
21. He uses the familiar du.
22. From this point onward Lövborg uses the formal De.
23. In this speech he once more says du. Hedda addresses him
throughout as De.
24. ”Eneste hane i kurven“—a proverbial saying.
25. Literally, “That you burn for me.”
 THE MASTER BUILDER

(1892)

CHARACTERS
Halvard Solness, Master Builder.
Aline Solness, his wife.
Doctor Herdal, physician.
Knut Brovik, formerly an architect, now in Solness’s employment.
Ragnar Brovik, his son, draughtsman.
Kaia Fosli, his niece, book-keeper.
Miss Hilda Wangel.
Some Ladies.
A Crowd in the street.
The action passes in and about Solness’s house.

THE MASTER BUILDER.

PLAY IN THREE ACTS.
 ACT FIRST.
A plainly-furnished work-room in the house of Halvard Solness.
Folding doors on the left lead out to the hall. On the right is
the door leading to the inner rooms of the house. At the back
is an open door into the draughtsmen’s office. In front, on the
left, a desk with books, papers and writing materials. Further
back than the folding door, a stove. In the right-hand corner, a
sofa, a table, and one or two chairs. On the table a water-
bottle and glass. A smaller table, with a rocking-chair and arm-
chair, in front on the right. Lighted lamps, with shades, on the
table in the draughtsmen’s office, on the table in the corner,
and on the desk.
In the draughtsmen’s office sit Knut Brovik and his son Ragnar,
occupied with plans and calculations. At the desk in the outer
office stands Kaia Fosli, writing in the ledger. Knut Brovick is a
spare old man with white hair and beard. He wears a rather
threadbare but well-brushed black coat, spectacles, and a
somewhat discoloured white neckcloth. Ragnar Brovik is a well-
dressed, light-haired man in his thirties, with a slight stoop.
Kaia Fosli is a slightly built girl, a little over twenty, carefully
dressed, and delicate-looking. She has a green shade over her
eyes.—All three go on working for some time in silence.
Knut Brovik.
[Rises suddenly, as if in distress, from the table; breathes heavily
and laboriously as he comes forward into the doorway.] No, I can’t
bear it much longer!
Kaia.
 [Going up to him.] You are feeling very ill this evening, are you
not, uncle?
Brovik.
Oh, I seem to get worse every day.
Ragnar.
[Has risen and advances.] You ought to go home, father. Try to
get a little sleep——
Brovik.
[Impatiently.] Go to bed, I suppose? Would you have me stifled
outright?
Kaia.
Then take a little walk.
Ragnar.
Yes, do. I will come with you.
Brovik.
[With warmth.] I will not go till he comes! I am determined to
have it out this evening with—[in a tone of suppressed bitterness]—
with him—with the chief.
Kaia.
[Anxiously.] Oh no, uncle,—do wait awhile before doing that!
Ragnar.
Yes, better wait, father!
Brovik.
[Draws his breath laboriously.] Ha—ha—! I haven’t much time for
waiting.
Kaia.
[Listening.] Hush! I hear him on the stairs.
 [All three go back to their work. A short silence.
Halvard Solness comes in through the hall door. He is a man no
longer young, but healthy and vigorous, with close-cut curly hair,
dark moustache and dark thick eyebrows. He wears a greyish-
green buttoned jacket with an upstanding collar and broad
lappels. On his head he wears a soft grey felt hat, and he has
one or two light portfolios under his arm.
Solness.
[Near the door, points towards the draughtsmen’s office, and asks
in a whisper:] Are they gone?
Kaia.
[Softly, shaking her head.] No.
[She takes the shade off her eyes. Solness crosses the
room, throws his hat on a chair, places the portfolios on
the table by the sofa, and approaches the desk again.
Kaia goes on writing without intermission, but seems
nervous and uneasy.
Solness.
[Aloud.] What is that you are entering, Miss Fosli?
Kaia.
[Starts.] Oh, it is only something that——
Solness.
Let me look at it, Miss Fosli. [Bends over her, pretends to be
looking into the ledger, and whispers:] Kaia!
Kaia.
[Softly, still writing.] Well?
Solness.
Why do you always take that shade off when I come?
Kaia.
 [As before.] I look so ugly with it on.
Solness.
[Smiling.] Then you don’t like to look ugly, Kaia?
Kaia.
[Half glancing up at him.] Not for all the world. Not in your eyes.
Solness.
[Strokes her hair gently.] Poor, poor little Kaia——
Kaia.
[Bending her head.] Hush—they can hear you!
[Solness strolls across the room to the right, turns and
pauses at the door of the draughtsmen’s office.
Solness.
Has any one been here for me?
Ragnar.
[Rising.] Yes, the young couple who want a villa built, out at
Lövstrand.
Solness.
[Growling.] Oh, those two! They must wait. I am not quite clear
about the plans yet.
Ragnar.
[Advancing, with some hesitation.] They were very anxious to
have the drawings at once.
Solness.
[As before.] Yes, of course—so they all are.
Brovik.
[Looks up.] They say they are longing so to get into a house of
their own.
 Solness.
Yes, yes—we know all that! And so they are content to take
whatever is offered them. They get a—a roof over their heads—an
address—but nothing to call a home. No thank you! In that case, let
them apply to somebody else. Tell them that, the next time they call.
Brovik.
[Pushes his glasses up on to his forehead and looks in
astonishment at him.] To somebody else? Are you prepared to give
up the commission?
Solness.
[Impatiently.] Yes, yes, yes, devil take it! If that is to be the way
of it——. Rather that, than build away at random. [Vehemently.]
Besides, I know very little about these people as yet.
Brovik.
The people are safe enough. Ragnar knows them. He is a friend of
the family. Perfectly safe people.
Solness.
Oh, safe—safe enough! That is not at all what I mean. Good lord
—don’t you understand me either? [Angrily.] I won’t have anything
to do with these strangers. They may apply to whom they please, so
far as I am concerned.
Brovik.
[Rising.] Do you really mean that?
Solness.
[Sulkily.] Yes I do.—For once in a way.
[He comes forward.
[Brovik exchanges a glance with Ragnar, who makes a
warning gesture. Then Brovik comes into the front room.
Brovik.
 May I have a few words with you?
Solness.
Certainly.
Brovik.
[To Kaia.] Just go in there for a moment, Kaia.
Kaia.
[Uneasily.] Oh, but uncle——
Brovik.
Do as I say, child. And shut the door after you.
[Kaia goes reluctantly into the draughtsmen’s office,
glances anxiously and imploringly at Solness, and shuts
the door.
Brovik.
[Lowering his voice a little.] I don’t want the poor children to
know how ill I am.
Solness.
Yes, you have been looking very poorly of late.
Brovik.
It will soon be all over with me. My strength is ebbing—from day
to day.
Solness.
Won’t you sit down?
Brovik.
Thanks—may I?
Solness.
[Placing the arm-chair more conveniently.] Here—take this chair.—
And now?