pale, but says with self-control:] It is a deed of gift, Hedvig.
Hedvig.
Is it? What sort of gift am I to have?
Hialmar.
Read for yourself.
[Hedvig goes over and reads for a time by the lamp.
Hialmar.
[Half-aloud, clenching his hands.] The eyes! The eyes—and then that letter!
Hedvig.
[Leaves off reading.] Yes, but it seems to me that it's grandfather that's to have it.
Hialmar.
[Takes the letter from her.] Gina—can you understand this?
Gina.
I know nothing whatever about it; tell me what's the matter.
Hialmar.
Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grandfather need not trouble himself any longer with the copying, but that he can henceforth draw on the office for a hundred crowns a month
Gregers.
Aha!
Hedvig.
A hundred crowns, mother! I read that.
