Krogstad.  Your father died on the 29th of September.  But, look here; your father has dated his signature the 2nd of October.  It is a discrepancy, isn’t it? (Nora is silent.) Can you explain it to me? (Nora is still silent.) It is a remarkable thing, too, that the words “2nd of October,” as well as the year, are not written in your father’s handwriting but in one that I think I know.  Well, of course it can be explained; your father may have forgotten to date his signature, and someone else may have dated it haphazard before they knew of his death.  There is no harm in that.  It all depends on the signature of the name; and that is genuine, I suppose, Mrs. Helmer?  It was your father himself who signed his name here?

Nora (after a short pause, throws her head up and looks defiantly at him).  No, it was not.  It was I that wrote papa’s name.

Krogstad.  Are you aware that is a dangerous confession?

Nora.  In what way?  You shall have your money soon.

Krogstad.  Let me ask you a question; why did you not send the paper to your father?

Nora.  It was impossible; papa was so ill.  If I had asked him for his signature, I should have had to tell him what the money was to be used for; and when he was so ill himself I couldn’t tell him that my husband’s life was in danger—­it was impossible.

Krogstad.  It would have been better for you if you had given up your trip abroad.

Nora.  No, that was impossible.  That trip was to save my husband’s life; I couldn’t give that up.

Krogstad.  But did it never occur to you that you were committing a fraud on me?

Nora.  I couldn’t take that into account; I didn’t trouble myself about you at all.  I couldn’t bear you, because you put so many heartless difficulties in my way, although you knew what a dangerous condition my husband was in.

Krogstad.  Mrs. Helmer, you evidently do not realise clearly what it is that you have been guilty of.  But I can assure you that my one false step, which lost me all my reputation, was nothing more or nothing worse than what you have done.

Nora.  You?  Do you ask me to believe that you were brave enough to run a risk to save your wife’s life?

Krogstad.  The law cares nothing about motives.

Nora.  Then it must be a very foolish law.

Krogstad.  Foolish or not, it is the law by which you will be judged, if I produce this paper in court.

Nora.  I don’t believe it.  Is a daughter not to be allowed to spare her dying father anxiety and care?  Is a wife not to be allowed to save her husband’s life?  I don’t know much about law; but I am certain that there must be laws permitting such things as that.  Have you no knowledge of such laws—­you who are a lawyer?  You must be a very poor lawyer, Mr. Krogstad.

Krogstad.  Maybe.  But matters of business—­such business as you and I have had together—­do you think I don’t understand that?  Very well.  Do as you please.  But let me tell you this—­if I lose my position a second time, you shall lose yours with me. (He bows, and goes out through the hall.)