Hialmar Ekdal’s father was an army lieutenant and respected hunter
Hialmar. I can raise up his self−respect from the dead, by restoring the name of Ekdal to honour and dignity. [Gregers. Then that is your life's mission?]
Hialmar. Yes. I will rescue the shipwrecked man. For shipwrecked he was, by the very first blast of the storm. Even while those terrible investigations were going on, he was no longer himself. That pistol there--the one we use to shoot rabbits with--has played its part in the tragedy of the house of Ekdal. [Gregers. The pistol? Indeed?]
Hialmar. When the sentence of imprisonment was passed he had the pistol in his hand! [Gregers. Had he?]
Hialmar. Yes; but he dared not use it. His courage failed him. So broken, so demoralised was he even then! Oh, can you understand it? He, a soldier; he, who had shot nine bears, and who was descended from two lieutenant−colonels-- one after the other, of course. Can you understand it, Gregers? [Gregers. Yes, I understand it well enough.]
Hialmar. I cannot. And once more the pistol played a part in the history of our house. When he had put on the grey clothes and was under lock and key--oh, that was a terrible time for me, I can tell you. I kept the blinds drawn down over both my windows. When I peeped out, I saw the sun shining as if nothing had happened. I could not understand it. I saw people going along the street, laughing and talking about indifferent things. I could not understand it. It seemed to me that the whole of existence must be at a standstill--as if under an eclipse.
Ibsen, Henrik. The Wild Duck. http://www.public-library.uk/ebooks/106/54.pdf
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