MAID. Very good, ma’am. [Exit.]

HEL. Hullo!—are we going to have a banquet?

NORA. Yes, a champagne banquet till the small hours. [Calls out.] And a few macaroons, Helen—lots, just for once!

HEL. Come, come, don’t be so wild and nervous. Be my own little skylark, as you used.

NORA. Yes, dear, I will. But go in now, and you too, Doctor Rank. Christine, you must help me to do up my hair.

RANK [whispers to Helmer as they go out]. I suppose there is nothing— she is not expecting anything?

HEL. Far from it, my dear fellow; it is simply nothing more than this childish nervousness I was telling you of. [They go into the right-hand room.]

NORA. Well!

MRS. L. Gone out of town.

NORA. I could tell from your face.

MRS. L. He is coming home tomorrow evening. I wrote a note for him.

NORA. You should have let it alone; you must prevent nothing. After all, it is splendid to be waiting for a wonderful thing to happen.

MRS. L. What is it that you are waiting for?

NORA. Oh, you wouldn’t understand. Go in to them, I will come in a moment. [Mrs. Linde goes into the dining room. Nora stands still for a little while, as if to compose herself. Then she looks at her watch.] Five o’clock. Seven hours till midnight; and then four-and-twenty hours till the next midnight. Then the tarantella will be over. Twenty-four and seven? Thirty-one hours to live.

HEL. [from the doorway on the right]. Where’s my little skylark?

NORA [going to him with her arms outstretched]. Here she is!