Helmer (looking at them).  Doctor Rank.  They were on the top.  He must have put them in when he went out.

Nora. Is there anything written on them?

Helmer. There is a black cross over the name.  Look there—­what an uncomfortable idea!  It looks as If he were announcing his own death.

Nora. It is just what he is doing.

Helmer. What?  Do you know anything about it?  Has he said anything to you?

Nora. Yes.  He told me that when the cards came it would be his leave-taking from us.  He means to shut himself up and die.

Helmer. My poor old friend.  Certainly I knew we should not have him very long with us.  But so soon!  And so he hides himself away like a wounded animal.

Nora. If it has to happen, it is best it should be without a word—­don’t you think so, Torvald?

Helmer (walking up and down).  He has so grown into our lives.  I can’t think of him as having gone out of them.  He, with his sufferings and his loneliness, was like a cloudy background to our sunlit happiness.  Well, perhaps it is best so.  For him, anyway. (Standing still.) And perhaps for us too, Nora.  We two are thrown quite upon each other now. (Puts his arms around her.) My darling wife, I don’t feel as if I could hold you tight enough.  Do you know, Nora, I have often wished that you might be threatened by some great danger, so that I might risk my life’s blood, and everything, for your sake.

Nora (disengages herself, and says firmly and decidedly).  Now you must read your letters, Torvald.

Helmer. No, no; not tonight.  I want to be with you, my darling wife.

Nora. With the thought of your friend’s death—­

Helmer. You are right, it has affected us both.  Something ugly has come between us—­the thought of the horrors of death.  We must try and rid our minds of that.  Until then—­we will each go to our own room.

Nora (hanging on his neck).  Good-night, Torvald—­Good-night!

Helmer (kissing her on the forehead).  Good-night, my little singing-bird.  Sleep sound, Nora.  Now I will read my letters through. (He takes his letters and goes into his room, shutting the door after him.)

Nora (gropes distractedly about, seizes HELMER’S domino, throws it round her, while she says in quick, hoarse, spasmodic whispers).  Never to see him again.  Never!  Never! (Puts her shawl over her head.) Never to see my children again either—­never again.  Never!  Never!—­Ah! the icy, black water—­the unfathomable depths—­If only it were over!  He has got it now—­now he is reading it.  Good-bye, Torvald and my children! (She is about to rush out through the hall, when HELMER opens his door hurriedly and stands with an open letter in his hand.)