Helmer.  Listen to her, Mrs. Linde!  She had danced her Tarantella, and it had been a tremendous success, as it deserved—­although possibly the performance was a trifle too realistic—­a little more so, I mean, than was strictly compatible with the limitations of art.  But never mind about that!  The chief thing is, she had made a success—­she had made a tremendous success.  Do you think I was going to let her remain there after that, and spoil the effect?  No, indeed!  I took my charming little Capri maiden—­my capricious little Capri maiden, I should say—­on my arm; took one quick turn round the room; a curtsey on either side, and, as they say in novels, the beautiful apparition disappeared.  An exit ought always to be effective, Mrs. Linde; but that is what I cannot make Nora understand.  Pooh! this room is hot. (Throws his domino on a chair, and opens the door of his room.) Hullo! it’s all dark in here.  Oh, of course—­excuse me—. (He goes in, and lights some candles.)

Nora (in a hurried and breathless whisper).  Well?

Mrs. Linde (in a low voice).  I have had a talk with him.

Nora.  Yes, and—­

Mrs. Linde.  Nora, you must tell your husband all about it.

Nora (in an expressionless voice).  I knew it.

Mrs. Linde.  You have nothing to be afraid of as far as Krogstad is concerned; but you must tell him.

Nora.  I won’t tell him.

Mrs. Linde.  Then the letter will.

Nora.  Thank you, Christine.  Now I know what I must do.  Hush—!

Helmer (coming in again).  Well, Mrs. Linde, have you admired her?

Mrs. Linde.  Yes, and now I will say goodnight.

Helmer.  What, already?  Is this yours, this knitting?

Mrs. Linde (taking it).  Yes, thank you, I had very nearly forgotten it.

Helmer.  So you knit?

Mrs. Linde.  Of course.

Helmer.  Do you know, you ought to embroider.

Mrs. Linde.  Really?  Why?

Helmer.  Yes, it’s far more becoming.  Let me show you.  You hold the embroidery thus in your left hand, and use the needle with the right—­like this—­with a long, easy sweep.  Do you see?

Mrs. Linde.  Yes, perhaps—­

Helmer.  But in the case of knitting—­that can never be anything but ungraceful; look here—­the arms close together, the knitting-needles going up and down—­it has a sort of Chinese effect—.  That was really excellent champagne they gave us.

Mrs. Linde.  Well,—­goodnight, Nora, and don’t be self-willed any more.

Helmer.  That’s right, Mrs. Linde.

Mrs. Linde.  Goodnight, Mr. Helmer.

Helmer (accompanying her to the door).  Goodnight, goodnight.  I hope you will get home all right.  I should be very happy to—­but you haven’t any great distance to go.  Goodnight, goodnight.  (She goes out; he shuts the door after her, and comes in again.) Ah!—­at last we have got rid of her.  She is a frightful bore, that woman.