MRS. ALVING

  Yes, it certainly was.

  MANDERS

  It only shows how excessively careful one ought to be in judging one’s fellow creatures. But what a heartfelt joy it is to ascertain that one has been mistaken! Don’t you think so?

  MRS. ALVING

  I think you are, and will always be, a great baby, Manders.

  MANDERS

  I?

  MRS. ALVING [Laying her two hands upon his shoulders.]

  And I say that I have half a mind to put my arms round your neck, and kiss you.

  MANDERS [Stepping hastily back.]

  No, no! God bless me! What an idea!

  MRS. ALVING [With a smile.]

  Oh, you needn’t be afraid of me.

  MANDERS [By the table.]

  You have sometimes such an exaggerated way of expressing yourself. Now, let me just collect all the documents, and put them in my bag.

  [He does so.]

  There, that’s all right. And now, good-bye for the present. Keep your eyes open when Oswald comes back. I shall look in again later.

  [He takes his hat and goes out through the hall door.]

  MRS. ALVING [Sighs, looks for a moment out of the window, sets the room in order a little, and is about to go into the dining-room, but stops at the door with a half-suppressed cry.] Oswald, are you still at table?

  OSWALD [In the dining room.]

  I’m only finishing my cigar.

  MRS. ALVING

  I thought you had gone for a little walk.

  OSWALD

  In such weather as this?

  [A glass clinks. MRS. ALVING leaves the door open, and sits down with

  her knitting on the sofa by the window.]

  OSWALD

  Wasn’t that Pastor Manders that went out just now?

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; he went down to the Orphanage.

  OSWALD

  H’m.

  [The glass and decanter clink again.]

  MRS. ALVING [With a troubled glance.]

  Dear Oswald, you should take care of that liqueur. It is strong.

  OSWALD

  It keeps out the damp.

  MRS. ALVING

  Wouldn’t you rather come in here, to me?

  OSWALD

  I mayn’t smoke in there.

  MRS. ALVING

  You know quite well you may smoke cigars.

  OSWALD

  Oh, all right then; I’ll come in. Just a tiny drop more first.—

  There!

  [He comes into the room with his cigar, and shuts the door after him. A

  short silence.]

  Where has the pastor gone to?

  MRS. ALVING

  I have just told you; he went down to the Orphanage.

  OSWALD

  Oh, yes; so you did.

  MRS. ALVING

  You shouldn’t sit so long at table, Oswald.

  OSWALD [Holding his cigar behind him.]

  But I find it so pleasant, mother.

  [Strokes and caresses her.]

  Just think what it is for me to come home and sit at mother’s

  own table, in mother’s room, and eat mother’s delicious dishes.

  MRS. ALVING

  My dear, dear boy!

  OSWALD [Somewhat impatiently, walks about and smokes.]

  And what else can I do with myself here? I can’t set to work at anything.

  MRS. ALVING

  Why can’t you?

  OSWALD

  In such weather as this? Without a single ray of sunshine the

  whole day?

  [Walks up the room.]

  Oh, not to be able to work——!

  MRS. ALVING

  Perhaps it was not quite wise of you to come home?

  OSWALD

  Oh, yes, mother; I had to.

  MRS. ALVING

  You know I would ten times rather forgo the joy of having you here, than let you——

  OSWALD [Stops beside the table.]

  Now just tell me, mother: does it really make you so very happy to have me home again?

  MRS. ALVING

  Does it make me happy!

  OSWALD [Crumpling up a newspaper.]

  I should have thought it must be pretty much the same to you whether I was in existence or not.

  MRS. ALVING

  Have you the heart to say that to your mother. Oswald?

  OSWALD

  But you’ve got on very well without me all this time.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; I have got on without you. That is true.

  [A silence.Twilight slowly begins to fall. OSWALD paces to and fro across

  the room. He has laid his cigar down.]

  OSWALD [Stops beside MRS. ALVING.]

  Mother, may I sit on the sofa beside you?

  MRS. ALVING [Makes room for him.]

  Yes, do, my dear boy.

  OSWALD [Sits down.]

  There is something I must tell you, mother.

  MRS. ALVING [Anxiously.]

  Well?

  OSWALD [Looks fixedly before him.]

  For I can’t go on hiding it any longer.

  MRS. ALVING

  Hiding what? What is it?

  OSWALD [As before.]

  I could never bring myself to write to you about it; and since I’ve come home——

  MRS. ALVING [Seizes him by the arm.]

  Oswald, what is the matter?

  OSWALD

  Both yesterday and to-day I have tried to put the thoughts away from me—to cast them off; but it’s no use.

  MRS. ALVING [Rising.]

  Now you must tell me everything, Oswald!

  OSWALD [Draws her down to the sofa again.]

  Sit still; and then I will try to tell you.—I complained of fatigue after my journey——

  MRS. ALVING

  Well? What then?

  OSWALD

  But it isn’t that that is the matter with me; not any ordinary fatigue——

  MRS. ALVING [Tries to jump up.]

  You are not ill, Oswald?

  OSWALD [Draws her down again.]

  Sit still, mother. Do take it quietly. I’m not downright ill, either;

  not what is commonly called “ill.”

  [Clasps his hands above his head.]

  Mother, my mind is broken down—ruined—I shall never be able

  to work again!

  [With his hands before his face, he buries his head in her lap, and breaks

  into bitter sobbing.]

  MRS. ALVING [White and trembling.]

  Oswald! Look at me! No, no; it’s not true.

  OSWALD [Looks up with despair in his eyes.]

  Never to be able to work again! Never!—never! A living death! Mother, can you imagine anything so horrible?

  MRS. ALVING

  My poor boy! How has this horrible thing come upon you?

  OSWALD [Sitting upright again.]

  That’s just what I cannot possibly grasp or understand. I have never led a dissipated life—never, in any respect. You mustn’t believe that of me, mother! I’ve never done that.

  MRS. ALVING

  I am sure you haven’t, Oswald.

  OSWALD

  And yet this has come upon me just the same—this awful misfortune!

  MRS. ALVING

  Oh, but it will pass over, my dear, blessed boy. It’s nothing but over-work. Trust me, I am right.

  OSWALD [Sadly.]

  I thought so too, at first; but it isn’t so.

  MRS. ALVING

  Tell me everything, from beginning to end.

  OSWALD

  Yes, I will.

  MRS. ALVING

  When did you first notice it?

  OSWALD

  It was directly after I had been home last time, and had got back to Paris again. I began to feel the most violent pains in my head—chiefly in the back of my head, they seemed to come. It was as though a tight iron ring was being screwed round my neck and upwards.

  MRS. ALVING

  Well, and then?

  OSWALD

  At first I thought it was nothing but the ordinary headache I had been so plagued with while I was growing up——

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes, yes——

  OSWALD

  But it wasn’t that. I soon found that out. I couldn’t work any more. I wanted to begin upon a big new picture, but my powers seemed to fail me; all my strength was crippled; I could form no definite images; everything swam before me—whirling round and round. Oh, it was an awful state! At last I sent for a doctor—and from him I learned the truth.

  MRS. ALVING

  How do you mean?

  OSWALD

  He was one of the first doctors in Paris. I told him my symptoms; and then he set to work asking me a string of questions which I thought had nothing to do with the matter. I couldn’t imagine what the man was after——

  MRS. ALVING

  Well?

  OSWALD

  At last he said: “There has been something worm-eaten in you from your birth.” He used that very word—vermoulu.

  MRS. ALVING [Breathlessly.]

  What did he mean by that?

  OSWALD

  I didn’t understand either, and begged him to explain himself

  more clearly. And then the old cynic said—

  [Clenching his fist.]

  Oh——!

  MRS. ALVING

  What did he say?

  OSWALD

  He said, “The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.”

  MRS. ALVING [Rising slowly.]

  The sins of the fathers——!

  OSWALD

  I very nearly struck him in the face——

  MRS. ALVING [Walks away across the room.]

  The sins of the fathers——

  OSWALD [Smiles sadly.]

  Yes; what do you think of that? Of course I assured him that such a thing was out of the question. But do you think he gave in? No, he stuck to it; and it was only when I produced your letters and translated the passages relating to father——

  MRS. ALVING

  But then——?

  OSWALD

  Then of course he had to admit that he was on the wrong track; and so I learned the truth—the incomprehensible truth! I ought not to have taken part with my comrades in that light-hearted, glorious life of theirs. It had been too much for my strength. So I had brought it upon myself!

  MRS. ALVING

  Oswald! No, no; do not believe it!

  OSWALD

  No other explanation was possible, he said. That’s the awful part of it. Incurably ruined for life—by my own heedlessness! All that I meant to have done in the world—I never dare think of it again—I’m not able to think of it. Oh! if I could only live over again, and undo all I have done! [He buries his face in the sofa.]

  MRS. ALVING [Wrings her hands and walks, in silent struggle, backwards and forwards.]

  OSWALD [After a while, looks up and remains resting upon his elbow.] If it had only been something inherited—something one wasn’t responsible for! But this! To have thrown away so shamefully, thoughtlessly, recklessly, one’s own happiness, one’s own health, everything in the world—one’s future, one’s very life——!

  MRS. ALVING

  No, no, my dear, darling boy; this is impossible!

  [Bends over him.]

  Things are not so desperate as you think.

  OSWALD

  Oh, you don’t know——

  [Springs up.]

  And then, mother, to cause you all this sorrow! Many a time I

  have almost wished and hoped that at bottom you didn’t care so

  very much about me.

  MRS. ALVING

  I, Oswald? My only boy! You are all I have in the world! The only thing I care about!

  OSWALD [Seizes both her hands and kisses them.]

  Yes, yes, I see it. When I’m at home, I see it, of course; and

  that’s almost the hardest part for me.—But now you know the

  whole story; and now we won’t talk any more about it to-day. I

  daren’t think of it for long together.

  [Goes up the room.]

  Get me something to drink, mother.

  MRS. ALVING

  To drink? What do you want to drink now?

  OSWALD

  Oh, anything you like. You have some cold punch in the house.

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes, but my dear Oswald——

  OSWALD

  Don’t refuse me, mother. Do be kind, now! I must have

  something to wash down all these gnawing thoughts.

  [Goes into the conservatory.]

  And then—it’s so dark here!

  [MRS. ALVING pulls a bell-rope on the right.]

  And this ceaseless rain! It may go on week after week, for

  months together. Never to get a glimpse of the sun! I can’t

  recollect ever having seen the sun shine all the times I’ve been at

  home.

  MRS. ALVING

  Oswald—you are thinking of going away from me.

  OSWALD

  H’m—

  [Drawing a heavy breath.]

  —I’m not thinking of anything. I cannot think of anything!

  [In a low voice.]

  I let thinking alone.

  REGINA [From the dining-room.]

  Did you ring, ma’am?

  MRS. ALVING

  Yes; let us have the lamp in.

  REGINA

  Yes, ma am. It’s ready lighted. [Goes out.]

  MRS. ALVING [Goes across to OSWALD.]

  Oswald, be frank with me.

  OSWALD

  Well, so I am, mother.

  [Goes to the table.]

  I think I have told you enough.

  [REGINA brings the lamp and sets it upon the table.]

  MRS. ALVING

  Regina, you may bring us a small bottle of champagne.

  REGINA

  Very well, ma’am.

  [Goes out.]

  OSWALD [Puts his arm round MRS. ALVING’s neck.]

  That’s just what I wanted. I knew mother wouldn’t let her boy go thirsty.

  MRS. ALVING

  My own, poor, darling Oswald; how could I deny you anything now?

  OSWALD [Eagerly.]

  Is that true, mother? Do you mean it?

  MRS. ALVING

  How? What?

  OSWALD

  That you couldn’t deny me anything.

  MRS. ALVING

  My dear Oswald——

  OSWALD

  Hush!

  REGINA [Brings a tray with a half-bottle of champagne and two glasses, which she sets on the table.]

  Shall I open it?

  OSWALD

  No, thanks. I will do it myself.

  [REGINA goes out again.]

  MRS. ALVING [Sits down by the table.]

  What was it you meant—that I musn’t deny you?

  OSWALD [Busy opening the bottle.]

  First let us have a glass—or two.

  [The cork pops; he pours wine into one glass, and is about to pour it into

  the other.]

  MRS. ALVING [Holding her hand over it.]

  Thanks; not for me.

  OSWALD

  Oh! won’t you? Then I will!

  [He empties the glass, fills, and empties it again; then he sits down by the

  table.]

  MRS. ALVING [In expectancy.]

  Well?

  OSWALD [Without looking at her.]

  Tell me—I thought you and Pastor Manders seemed so odd—so quiet—at dinner to-day.

  MRS. ALVING

  Did you notice it?

  OSWALD

  Yes. H’m——

  [After a short silence.]

  Tell me: what do you think of Regina?

  MRS. ALVING

  What do I think?

  OSWALD

  Yes; isn’t she splendid?

  MRS. ALVING

  My dear Oswald, you don’t know her as I do——

  OSWALD

  Well?

  MRS. ALVING

  Regina, unfortunately, was allowed to stay at home too long. I ought to have taken her earlier into my house.

  OSWALD

  Yes, but isn’t she splendid to look at, mother? [He fills his glass.]

  MRS. ALVING

  Regina has many serious faults——

  OSWALD

  Oh, what does that matter? [He drinks again.]

  MRS. ALVING

  But I am fond of her, nevertheless, and I am responsible for her. I wouldn’t for all the world have any harm happen to her.

  OSWALD [Springs up.]

  Mother, Regina is my only salvation!

  MRS. ALVING [Rising.]

  What do you mean by that?

  OSWALD

  I cannot go on bearing all this anguish of soul alone.

  MRS. ALVING

  Have you not your mother to share it with you?

  OSWALD