Oswald (walking restlessly about). But all this torment--the regret, the remorse--and the deadly fear. Oh--this horrible fear!
Mrs. Alving (following him). Fear? Fear of what? What do you mean?
Oswald. Oh, don't ask me any more about it. I don't know what it is. I can't put it into words. (MRS. ALVING crosses the room and rings the bell.) What do you want?
Mrs. Alving. I want my boy to be happy, that's what I want. He mustn't brood over anything. (To REGINA, who has come to the door.) More champagne-- a large bottle.
Oswald. Mother!
Mrs. Alving. Do you think we country people don't know how to live?
Oswald. Isn't she splendid to look at? What a figure! And the picture of health!
Mrs. Alving (sitting down at the table). Sit down, Oswald, and let us have a quiet talk.
Oswald (sitting down). You don't know, mother, that I owe Regina a little reparation.
Mrs. Alving. You!
Oswald. Oh, it was only a little thoughtlessness--call it what you like. Something quite innocent, anyway. The last time I was home--Mrs. Alving. Yes?
Oswald. --she used often to ask me questions about Paris, and Itold her one thing and another about the life there. And Iremember saying one day: "Wouldn't you like to go there yourself?"Mrs. Alving. Well?
Oswald. I saw her blush, and she said: "Yes, I should like to very much." "All right." I said, "I daresay it might be managed"--or something of that sort.
Mrs. Alving. And then?
Oswald. I naturally had forgotten all about it; but the day before yesterday I happened to ask her if she was glad I was to be so long at home--Mrs. Alving. Well?
Oswald. --and she looked so queerly at me, and asked: "But what is to become of my trip to Paris? "Mrs. Alving. Her trip!
Oswald. And then I got it out of her that she had taken the thing seriously, and had been thinking about me all the time, and had set herself to learn French--Mrs. Alving. So that was why--
Oswald. Mother--when I saw this fine, splendid, handsome girl standing there in front of me--I had never paid any attention to her before then--but now, when she stood there as if with open arms ready for me to take her to myself--Mrs. Alving. Oswald!
Oswald. --then I realised that my salvation lay in her, for I saw the joy of life in her!
Mrs. Alving (starting back). The joy of life--? Is there salvation in that?
Regina (coming in from the dining-room with a bottle of champagne). Excuse me for being so long; but I had to go to the cellar. (Puts the bottle down on the table.)Oswald. Bring another glass, too.
Regina (looking at him in astonishment). The mistress's glass is there, sir.
Oswald. Yes, but fetch one for yourself, Regina (REGINA starts, and gives a quick shy glance at MRS. ALVING.) Well?
Regina (in a low and hesitating voice). Do you wish me to, ma'am?
Mrs. Alving. Fetch the glass, Regina. (REGINA goes into the dining-room.)Oswald (looking after her). Have you noticed how well she walks?--so firmly and confidently!
Mrs. Alving. It cannot be, Oswald.
Oswald. It is settled. You must see that. It is no use forbidding it. (REGINA comes in with a gloss, which she holds in her hand.)Sit down, Regina. (REGINA looks questioningly at MRS. ALVING.)Mrs. Alving. Sit down. (REGINA sits down on a chair near the dining-room door, still holding the glass in her hand.) Oswald, what was it you were saying about the joy of life?
Oswald. Ah, mother--the joy of life! You don't know very much about that at home here. I shall never realise it here.
Mrs. Alving. Not even when you are with me?
Oswald. Never at home. But you can't understand that.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, indeed I almost think I do understand you now.
