MANDERS

  More repulsive than what you have told me!

  MRS. ALVING

  I had gone on bearing with him, although I knew very well the secrets of his life out of doors. But when he brought the scandal within our own walls——

  MANDERS

  Impossible! Here!

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; here in our own home. It was there [Pointing towards the first door on the right], in the dining-room, that I first came to know of it. I was busy with something in there, and the door was standing ajar. I heard our housemaid come up from the garden, with water for those flowers.

  MANDERS

  Well——?

  MRS. ALVING

  Soon after, I heard Alving come in too. I heard him say something

  softly to her. And then I heard—

  [With a short laugh]

  —oh! it still sounds in my ears, so hateful and yet so ludicrous—

  I heard my own servant-maid whisper, “Let me go, Mr. Alving!

  Let me be!”

  MANDERS

  What unseemly levity on his part! But it cannot have been more than levity, Mrs. Alving; believe me, it cannot.

  MRS. ALVING

  I soon knew what to believe. Mr. Alving had his way with the girl; and that connection had consequences, Mr. Manders.

  MANDERS [As though petrified.]

  Such things in this house! in this house!

  MRS. ALVING

  I had borne a great deal in this house. To keep him at home in the evenings, and at night, I had to make myself his boon companion in his secret orgies up in his room. There I have had to sit alone with him, to clink glasses and drink with him, and to listen to his ribald, silly talk. I have had to fight with him to get him dragged to bed——

  MANDERS [Moved.]

  And you were able to bear all this!

  MRS. ALVING

  I had to bear it for my little boy’s sake. But when the last insult was added; when my own servant-maid——; then I swore to myself: This shall come to an end! And so I took the reins into my own hand—the whole control—over him and everything else. For now I had a weapon against him, you see; he dared not oppose me. It was then I sent Oswald away from home. He was nearly seven years old, and was beginning to observe and ask questions, as children do. That I could not bear. It seemed to me the child must be poisoned by merely breathing the air of this polluted home. That was why I sent him away. And now you can see, too, why he was never allowed to set foot inside his home so long as his father lived. No one knows what that cost me.

  MANDERS

  You have indeed had a life of trial.

  MRS. ALVING

  I could never have borne it if I had not had my work. For I may truly say that I have worked! All the additions to the estate—all the improvements—all the labour-saving appliances, that Alving was so much praised for having introduced—do you suppose he had energy for anything of the sort?—he, who lay all day on the sofa, reading an old Court Guide! No; but I may tell you this too: when he had his better intervals, it was I who urged him on; it was I who had to drag the whole load when he relapsed into his evil ways, or sank into querulous wretchedness.

  MANDERS

  And it is to this man that you raise a memorial?

  MRS. ALVING

  There you see the power of an evil conscience.

  MANDERS Evil——? What do you mean?

  MRS. ALVING

  It always seemed to me impossible but that the truth must come out and be believed. So the Orphanage was to deaden all rumours and set every doubt at rest.

  MANDERS

  In that you have certainly not missed your aim, Mrs. Alving.

  MRS. ALVING

  And besides, I had one other reason. I was determined that Oswald, my own boy, should inherit nothing whatever from his father.

  MANDERS

  Then it is Alving’s fortune that——?

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes. The sums I have spent upon the Orphanage, year by year, make up the amount—I have reckoned it up precisely—the amount which made Lieutenant Alving “a good match” in his day.

  MANDERS

  I don’t understand——

  MRS. ALVING

  It was my purchase-money. I do not choose that that money should pass into Oswald’s hands. My son shall have everything from me—everything.

  OSWALD ALVING enters through the second door to the right; he has taken off his hat and overcoat in the hall.

  MRS. ALVING [Going towards him.]

  Are you back again already? My dear, dear boy!

  OSWALD

  Yes. What can a fellow do out of doors in this eternal rain? But I hear dinner is ready. That’s capital!

  REGINA [With a parcel, from the dining-room.]

  A parcel has come for you, Mrs. Alving.

  [Hands it to her.]

  MRS. ALVING [With a glance at MR. MANDERS.]

  No doubt copies of the ode for to-morrow’s ceremony.

  MANDERS

  H’m——

  REGINA

  And dinner is ready.

  MRS. ALVING

  Very well. We will come directly. I will just——

  [Begins to open the parcel.]

  REGINA [To OSWALD.]

  Would Mr. Alving like red or white wine?

  OSWALD

  Both, if you please.

  REGINA

  Bien. Very well, sir.

  [She goes into the dining-room.]

  OSWALD

  I may as well help to uncork it.

  [He also goes into the dining room, the door of which swings half open be

  hind him.]

  MRS. ALVING [Who has opened the parcel.]

  Yes, I thought so. Here is the Ceremonial Ode, Pastor Manders.

  MANDERS [With folded hands.]

  With what countenance I am to deliver my discourse to-morrow——!

  MRS. ALVING

  Oh, you will get through it somehow.

  MANDERS [Softly, so as not to be heard in the dining-room.]

  Yes; it would not do to provoke scandal.

  MRS. ALVING [Under her breath, but firmly.]

  No. But then this long, hateful comedy will be ended. From the

  day after to-morrow, I shall act in every way as though he who is

  dead had never lived in this house. There shall be no one here

  but my boy and his mother.

  [From the dining-room comes the noise of a chair overturned, and at the

  same moment is heard:]

  REGINA [Sharply, but in a whisper.]

  Oswald! take care! are you mad? Let me go!

  MRS. ALVING [Starts in terror.]

  Ah——!

  [She stares wildly towards the half-open door. OSWALD is heard laugh

  ing and humming. A bottle is uncorked.]

  MANDERS [Agitated.]

  What can be the matter? What is it, Mrs. Alving?

  MRS. ALVING [Hoarsely.] Ghosts! The couple from the conservatory—risen again!

  MANDERS

  Is it possible! Regina——? Is she——?

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes. Come. Not a word——!

  [She seizes PASTOR MANDERS by the arm, and walks unsteadily to

  wards the dining-room.]

  ACT SECOND

  The same room.The mist still lies heavy over the landscape.

  MANDERS and MRS. ALVING enter from the dining-room.

  MRS. ALVING [Still in the doorway.]

  Velbekomme,132 Mr. Manders.

  [Turns back towards the dining-room.]

  Aren’t you coming too, Oswald?

  OSWALD [From within.]

  No, thank you. I think I shall go out a little.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes, do. The weather seems a little brighter now.

  [She shuts the dining-room door, goes to the hall door, and calls:]

  Regina!

  REGINA [Outside.]

  Yes, Mrs. Alving?

  MRS. ALVING

  Go down to the laundry, and help with the garlands.

  REGINA

  Yes, Mrs. Alving.

  [MRS. ALVING assures herself that REGINA goes; then shuts the

  door.]

  MANDERS

  I suppose he cannot overhear us in there?

  MRS. ALVING

  Not when the door is shut. Besides, he’s just going out.

  MANDERS

  I am still quite upset. I don’t know how I could swallow a morsel of dinner.

  MRS. ALVING [Controlling her nervousness, walks up and down.]

  Nor I. But what is to be done now?

  MANDERS

  Yes; what is to be done? I am really quite at a loss. I am so utterly without experience in matters of this sort.

  MRS. ALVING

  I feel sure that, so far, no mischief has been done.

  MANDERS

  No; heaven forbid! But it is an unseemly state of things, nevertheless.

  MRS. ALVING

  It is only an idle fancy on Oswald’s part; you may be sure of that.

  MANDERS

  Well, as I say, I am not accustomed to affairs of the kind. But I should certainly think——

  MRS. ALVING

  Out of the house she must go, and that immediately. That is as clear as daylight——

  MANDERS

  Yes, of course she must.

  MRS. ALVING

  But where to? It would not be right to——

  MANDERS

  Where to? Home to her father, of course.

  MRS. ALVING

  To whom did you say?

  MANDERS

  To her——But then, Engstrand is not——? Good God, Mrs. Alving, it’s impossible! You must be mistaken after all.

  MRS. ALVING

  Unfortunately there is no possibility of mistake. Johanna confessed everything to me; and Alving could not deny it. So there was nothing to be done but to get the matter hushed up.

  MANDERS

  No, you could do nothing else.

  MRS. ALVING

  The girl left our service at once, and got a good sum of money to hold her tongue for the time. The rest she managed for herself when she got to town. She renewed her old acquaintance with Engstrand, no doubt let him see that she had money in her purse, and told him some tale about a foreigner who put in here with a yacht that summer. So she and Engstrand got married in hot haste. Why, you married them yourself.

  MANDERS

  But then how to account for——? I recollect distinctly Engstrand coming to give notice of the marriage. He was quite overwhelmed with contrition, and bitterly reproached himself for the misbehaviour he and his sweetheart had been guilty of.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; of course he had to take the blame upon himself.

  MANDERS

  But such a piece of duplicity on his part! And towards me too! I never could have believed it of Jacob Engstrand. I shall not fail to take him seriously to task; he may be sure of that.—And then the immorality of such a connection! For money——! How much did the girl receive?

  MRS. ALVING

  Three hundred dollars.

  MANDERS

  Just think of it—for a miserable three hundred dollars, to go and marry a fallen woman!

  MRS. ALVING

  Then what have you to say of me? I went and married a fallen man.

  MANDERS

  Why—good heavens!—what are you talking about! A fallen man!

  MRS. ALVING

  Do you think Alving was any purer when I went with him to the altar than Johanna was when Engstrand married her?

  MANDERS

  Well, but there is a world of difference between the two cases——

  MRS. ALVING

  Not so much difference after all—except in the price:—a miserable three hundred dollars and a whole fortune.

  MANDERS

  How can you compare such absolutely dissimilar cases? You had taken counsel with your own heart and with your natural advisers.

  MRS. ALVING [Without looking at him.]

  I thought you understood where what you call my heart had strayed to at the time.

  MANDERS [Distantly.]

  Had I understood anything of the kind, I should not have been a daily guest in your husband’s house.

  MRS. ALVING

  At any rate, the fact remains that with myself I took no counsel whatever.

  MANDERS

  Well then, with your nearest relatives—as your duty bade you—with your mother and your two aunts.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes, that is true. Those three cast up the account for me. Oh, it’s

  marvellous how clearly they made out that it would be

  downright madness to refuse such an offer. If mother could only

  see me now, and know what all that grandeur has come to!

  MANDERS

  Nobody can be held responsible for the result. This, at least, remains clear: your marriage was in full accordance with law and order.

  MRS. ALVING [At the window.]

  Oh, that perpetual law and order! I often think that is what does all the mischief in this world of ours.

  MANDERS

  Mrs. Alving, that is a sinful way of talking.

  MRS. ALVING

  Well, I can’t help it; I must have done with all this constraint and insincerity. I can endure it no longer. I must work my way out to freedom.

  MANDERS

  What do you mean by that?

  MRS. ALVING [Drumming on the window-frame.]

  I ought never to have concealed the facts of Alving’s life. But at that time I dared not do anything else—I was afraid, partly on my own account. I was such a coward.

  MANDERS

  A coward?

  MRS. ALVING

  If people had come to know anything, they would have said—“Poor man! with a runaway wife, no wonder he kicks over the traces.”

  MANDERS

  Such remarks might have been made with a certain show of right.

  MRS. ALVING [Looking steadily at him.]

  If I were what I ought to be, I should go to Oswald and say, “Listen, my boy: your father led a vicious life——”

  MANDERS

  Merciful heavens——!

  MRS. ALVING

  ——and then I should tell him all I have told you—every word of it.

  MANDERS

  You shock me unspeakably, Mrs. Alving.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; I know that. I know that very well. I myself am shocked at

  the idea.

  [Goes away from the window.]

  I am such a coward.

  MANDERS

  You call it “cowardice” to do your plain duty? Have you forgotten that a son ought to love and honour his father and mother?

  MRS. ALVING

  Do not let us talk in such general terms. Let us ask: Ought Oswald to love and honour Chamberlain Alving?

  MANDERS

  Is there no voice in your mother’s heart that forbids you to destroy your son’s ideals?

  MRS. ALVING

  But what about the truth?

  MANDERS

  But what about the ideals?

  MRS. ALVING

  Oh—ideals, ideals! If only I were not such a coward!

  MANDERS

  Do not despise ideals, Mrs. Alving; they will avenge themselves cruelly. Take Oswald’s case: he, unfortunately, seems to have few enough ideals as it is; but I can see that his father stands before him as an ideal.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes, that is true.

  MANDERS

  And this habit of mind you have yourself implanted and fostered by your letters.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; in my superstitious awe for duty and the proprieties, I lied to my boy, year after year. Oh, what a coward—what a coward I have been!

  MANDERS

  You have established a happy illusion in your son’s heart, Mrs. Alving; and assuredly you ought not to undervalue it.

  MRS. ALVING

  H’m; who knows whether it is so happy after all——? But, at any rate, I will not have any tampering with Regina. He shall not go and wreck the poor girl’s life.

  MANDERS

  No; good God—that would be terrible!

  MRS. ALVING

  If I knew he was in earnest, and that it would be for his happiness——

  MANDERS

  What? What then?

  MRS. ALVING

  But it couldn’t be; for unfortunately Regina is not the right sort of woman.

  MANDERS

  Well, what then? What do you mean?

  MRS. ALVING

  If I weren’t such a pitiful coward, I should say to him, “Marry her, or make what arrangement you please, only let us have nothing underhand about it.”

  MANDERS

  Merciful heavens, would you let them marry! Anything so dreadful——! so unheard of——