Manders. I can at all events help you to get the better of those without you. After all that I have been horrified to hear you from today, I cannot conscientiously allow a young defenceless girl to remain in your house.
Mrs. Alving. Don't you think it would be best if we could get her settled?--by some suitable marriage, I mean.
Manders. Undoubtedly. I think, in any case, it would have been desirable for her. Regina is at an age now that--well, I don't know much about these things, but--Mrs. Alving. Regina developed very early.
Manders. Yes, didn't she. I fancy I remember thinking she was remarkably well developed, bodily, at the time I prepared her for Confirmation. But, for the time being, she must in any case go home. Under her father's care--no, but of course Engstrand is not. To think that he, of all men, could so conceal the truth from me! (A knock is heard at the hall door.)Mrs. Alving. Who can that be? Come in!
(ENGSTRAND, dressed in his Sunday clothes, appears in the doorway.)Engstrand. I humbly beg pardon, but--
Manders. Aha! Hm!
Mrs. Alving. Oh, it's you, Engstrand!
Engstrand. There were none of the maids about, so I took the great liberty of knocking.
Mrs. Alving. That's all right. Come in. Do you want to speak to me?
Engstrand (coming in). No, thank you very much, ma'am. It was Mr. Menders I wanted to speak to for a moment.
Manders (walking up and down). Hm!--do you. You want to speak to me, do you?
Engstrand. Yes, sir, I wanted so very much to--Manders (stopping in front of him). Well, may I ask what it is you want?
Engstrand. It's this way, Mr. Manders. We are being paid off now.
And many thanks to you, Mrs. Alving. And now the work is quite finished, I thought it would be so nice and suitable if all of us, who have worked so honestly together all this time, were to finish up with a few prayers this evening.
Manders. Prayers? Up at the Orphanage?
Engstrand. Yes, sir, but if it isn't agreeable to you, then--Manders. Oh, certainly--but--hm!--
Engstrand. I have made a practice of saying a few prayers there myself each evening.
Mrs: Alving. Have you?
Engstrand. Yes, ma'am, now-- and then--just as a little edification, so to speak. But I am only a poor common man, and haven't rightly the gift, alas--and so I thought that as Mr, Manders happened to be here, perhaps--Manders. Look here, Engstrand! First of all I must ask you a question. Are you in a proper frame of mind for such a thing? Is your conscience free and untroubled?
Engstrand. Heaven have mercy on me a sinner! My conscience isn't worth our speaking about, Mr. Manders.
Manders. But it is just what we must speak about. What do you say to my question?
Engstrand. My conscience? Well--it's uneasy sometimes, of course.
Manders. Ah, you admit that at all events. Now will you tell me, without any concealment-- what is your relationship to Regina?
Mrs. Alving (hastily). Mr. Manders!
Manders (calming her).--Leave it to me!
Engstrand. With Regina? Good Lord, how you frightened me! (Looks at MRS ALVING.) There is nothing wrong with Regina, is there?
Manders. Let us hope not. What I want to know is, what is your relationship to her? You pass as her father, don't you?
Engstrand (unsteadily): Well--hm!--you know, sir, what happened between me and my poor Joanna.
Manders. No more distortion of the truth! Your late wife made a full confession to Mrs. Alving, before she left her service...
Engstrand. What!--do you mean to say--? Did she do that after all?
Manders. You see it has all come out, Engstrand.
Engstrand. Do you mean to say that she, who gave me her promise and solemn oath--Manders. Did she take an oath?
Engstrand. Well, no--she only gave me her word, but as seriously as a woman could.
Manders. And all these years you have been hiding the truth from me--from me, who have had such complete and absolute faith in you.
Engstrand. I am sorry to say I have, sir.
Manders. Did I deserve that from you, Engstrand? Haven't I been always ready to help you in word and deed as far as lay in my power? Answer me! Is it not so?
Engstrand. Indeed there's many a time I should have been very badly off without you, sir.
Manders. And this is the way you repay me--by causing me to make false entries in the church registers, and afterwards keeping back from me for years the information which you owed it both to me and to your sense of the truth to divulge. Your conduct has been absolutely inexcusable, Engstrand, and from today everything is at an end between us.
Engstrand (with a sigh). Yes, I can see that's what it means.
Manders. Yes, because how can you possibly justify what you did?
Engstrand. Was the poor girl to go and increase her load of shame by talking about it? Just suppose, sir, for a moment that your reverence was in the same predicament as my poor Joanna.
Manders. I!
Engstrand. Good Lord, sir, I don't mean the same predicament. Imean, suppose there were something your reverence was ashamed of in the eyes of the world, so to speak. We men ought not judge a poor woman too hardly, Mr. Manders.
Manders. But I am not doing so at all. It is you I am blaming.
Engstrand. Will your reverence grant me leave to ask you a small question?
Manders. Ask away.
Engstrand. Shouldn't you say it was right for a man to raise up the fallen?
Manders. Of course it is.
Engstrand. And isn't a man bound to keep his word of honour?
Manders. Certainly he is; but--
Engstrand. At the time when Joanna had her misfortune with this Englishman--or maybe he was an American or a Russian, as they call 'em--well, sir, then she came to town. Poor thing, she had refused me once or twice before; she only had eyes for good-looking men in those days, and I had this crooked leg then. Your reverence will remember how I had ventured up into a dancing-saloon where seafaring men were revelling in drunkenness and intoxication, as they say. And when I tried to exhort them to turn from their evil ways--Mrs. Alving (coughs from the window). Ahem!
