Oswald. I nearly struck him in the face.
Mrs. Alving (walking across the room). The sins of the fathers--!
Oswald (smiling sadly). Yes, just imagine! Naturally I assured him that what he thought was impossible. But do you think he paid any heed to me? No, he persisted in his opinion; and it was only when I got out your letters and translated to him all the passages that referred to my father--Mrs. Alving. Well, and then?
Oswald. Well, then of course he had to admit that he was on the wrong track; and then I learned the truth-- the incomprehensible truth! I ought to have had nothing to do with the joyous happy life I had lived with my comrades. It had been too much for my strength. So it was my own fault!
Mrs. Alving. No, no, Oswald! Don't believe that--Oswald. There was no other explanation of it possible, he said.
That is the most horrible part of it. My whole life incurably ruined--just because of my own imprudence. All that I wanted to do in the world-=not to dare to think of it any more--not to be able to think of it! Oh! if only I could live my life over again--if only I could undo what I have done! (Throws himself on his face on the couch. MRS. ALVING wrings her hands, and walks up and down silently fighting with herself.)Oswald (looks up after a while, raising himself on his elbows).
If only it had been something I had inherited--something I could not help. But, instead of that, to have disgracefully, stupidly, thoughtlessly thrown away one's happiness, one's health, everything in the world--one's future, one's life!
Mrs. Alving. No, no, my darling boy; that is impossible! (Bending over him.) Things are not so desperate as you think.
Oswald. Ah, you don't know--(Springs up.) And to think, mother, that I should bring all this sorrow upon you! Many a time I have almost wished and hoped that you really did not care so very much for me.
Mrs. Alving. I, Oswald? My only son! All that I have in the world! The only thing I care about!
Oswald (taking hold of her hands and kissing them). Yes, yes, Iknow that is so. When I am at home I know that is true. And that is one of the hardest parts of it to me. But now you know all about it; and now we won't talk anymore about it today. I can't stand thinking about it long at a time. (Walks across the room.)Let me have something to drink, mother!
Mrs. Alving. To drink? What do you want?
Oswald. Oh, anything you like. I suppose you have got some punch in the house.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, but my dear Oswald--!
Oswald. Don't tell me I mustn't, mother. Do be nice! I must have something to drown these gnawing thoughts. (Goes into the conservatory.) And how--how gloomy it is here! (MRS. ALVING rings the bell.) And this incessant rain. It may go on week after week--a whole month. Never a ray of sunshine. I don't remember ever having seen the sunshine once when I have been at home.
Mrs. Alving. Oswald--you are thinking of going away from me!
Oswald. Hm!--(sighs deeply). I am not thinking about anything. Ican't think about anything! (In a low voice.) I have to let that alone.
Regina (coming from the dining-room). Did you ring, ma'am?
Mrs. Alving. Yes, let us have the lamp in.
Regina. In a moment, ma'am; it is all ready lit. (Goes out.)Mrs. Alving (going up to OSWALD). Oswald, don't keep anything back from me.
Oswald. I don't, mother. (Goes to the table.) It seems to me Ihave told you a good lot.
(REGINA brings the lamp and puts it upon the table.)Mrs. Alving. Regina, you might bring us a small bottle of champagne.
Regina. Yes, ma'am. (Goes out.)
Oswald (taking hold of his mother's face). That's right; I knew my mother wouldn't let her son go thirsty.
Mrs, Alving. My poor dear boy, how could I refuse you anything now?
Oswald (eagerly). Is that true, mother? Do you mean it?
Mrs. Alving. Mean what?
Oswald. That you couldn't deny me anything?
Mrs. Alving. My dear Oswald--
Oswald. Hush!
(REGINA brings in a tray with a small bottle of champagne and two glasses, which she puts on the table.)Regina. Shall I open the bottle?
Oswald. No, thank you, I will do it. (REGINA goes out.)Mrs, Alving (sitting clown at the table). What did you mean, when you asked if I could refuse you nothing?
Oswald (busy opening the bottle). Let us have a glass first--or two.
(He draws the cork, fills one glass and is going to fill the other.)Mrs. Alving (holding her hand over the second glass) No, thanks--not for me.
Oswald. Oh, well, for me then! (He empties his glass, fills it again and empties it; then sits down at the table.)Mrs. Alving (expectantly). Now, tell me.
Oswald (without looking at her). Tell me this; I thought you and Mr. Manders seemed so strange--so quiet--at dinner.
Mrs. Alving. Did you notice that?
Oswald. Yes. Ahem! (After a short pause.) Tell me--what do you think of Regina?
Mrs. Alving. What do I think of her?
Oswald. Yes, isn't she splendid!
Mrs. Alving. Dear Oswald, you don't know her as well as I do--Oswald. What of that?
Mrs. Alving. Regina was too long at home, unfortunately. I ought to have taken her under my charge sooner.
Oswald. Yes, but isn't she splendid to look at, mother? (Fills his glass,)Mrs. Alving. Regina has many serious faults--Oswald. Yes, but what of that? (Drinks.)
Mrs. Alving. But I am fond of her, all the same; and I have made myself responsible for her. I wouldn't for the world she should come to any harm.
Oswald (jumping up). Mother, Regina is my only hope of salvation!
Mrs. Alving (getting up). What do you mean?
Oswald. I can't go on bearing all this agony of mind alone.
Mrs. Alving, Haven't you your mother to help you to bear it?
Oswald. Yes, I thought so; that was why I came home to you. But it is no use; I see that it isn't. I cannot spend my life here.
Mrs. Alving. Oswald!
Oswald. I must live a different sort of life, mother; so I shall have to go away from you, I don't want you watching it.
Mrs. Alving. My unhappy boy! But, Oswald, as long as you are ill like this--Oswald. If it was only a matter of feeling ill, I would stay with you, mother. You are the best friend I have in the world.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, I am that, Oswald, am I not?
