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. Yes; that's what I thought; and so I came home to you. But that will not do. I see it won't do. I cannot endure my life here.

MRS. ALVING. Oswald!

OSWALD. I must live differently, mother. That is why I must leave you. I will not have you looking on at it.

MRS. ALVING. My unhappy boy! But, Oswald, while you are so ill as this--

OSWALD. If it were only the illness, I should stay with you, mother, you may be sure; for you are the best friend I have in the world.

MRS. ALVING. Yes, indeed I am, Oswald; am I not?

OSWALD. [Wanders restlessly about.] But it's all the torment, the gnawing remorse--and then, the great, killing dread. Oh--that awful dread!

MRS. ALVING. [Walking after him.] Dread? What dread? What do you mean?

OSWALD. Oh, you mustn't ask me any more. I don't know. I can't describe it.

MRS. ALVING. [Goes over to the right and pulls the bell.]

OSWALD. What is it you want?

MRS. ALVING. I want my boy to be happy--that is what I want. He sha'n't go on brooding over things [To REGINA, who appears at the door:] More champagne--a large bottle. [REGINA goes.]

OSWALD. Mother!

MRS. ALVING. Do you think we don't know how to live here at home?

OSWALD. Isn't she splendid to look at? How beautifully she's built! And so thoroughly healthy!

MRS. ALVING. [Sits by the table.] Sit down, Oswald; let us talk quietly together.

OSWALD. [Sits.] I daresay you don't know, mother, that I owe Regina some reparation.

MRS. ALVING. You!

OSWALD. For a bit of thoughtlessness, or whatever you like to call it--very innocent, at any rate. When I was home last time--

MRS. ALVING. Well?

OSWALD. She used often to ask me about Paris, and I used to tell her one thing and another. Then I recollect I happened to say to her one day, "Shouldn't you like to go there yourself?"

MRS. ALVING. Well?

OSWALD. I saw her face flush, and then she said, "Yes, I should like it of all things." "Ah, well," I replied, "it might perhaps be managed"--or something like that.

MRS. ALVING. And then?

OSWALD. Of course I had forgotten all about it; but the day before yesterday I happened to ask her whether she was glad I was to stay at home so long--

MRS. ALVING. Yes?

OSWALD. And then she gave me such a strange look, and asked, "But what's to become of my trip to Paris?"

MRS. ALVING. Her trip!

OSWALD. And so it came out that she had taken the thing seriously; that she had been thinking of me the whole time, and had set to work to learn French--

MRS. ALVING. So that was why--!

OSWALD. Mother--when I saw that fresh, lovely, splendid girl standing there before me--till then I had hardly noticed her--but when she stood there as though with open arms ready to receive me--

MRS. ALVING. Oswald!

OSWALD.--then it flashed upon me that in her lay my salvation; for I saw that she was full of the joy of life.

MRS. ALVING. [Starts.] The joy of life? Can there be salvation in that?

REGINA. [From the dining room, with a bottle of champagne.] I'm sorry to have been so long, but I had to go to the cellar. [Places the bottle on the table.]

OSWALD. And now bring another gla.s.s.

REGINA. [Looks at him in surprise.] There is Mrs. Alving's gla.s.s, Mr.

Alving.

OSWALD. Yes, but bring one for yourself, Regina. [REGINA starts and gives a lightning-like side glance at MRS. ALVING.] Why do you wait?

REGINA. [Softly and hesitatingly.] Is it Mrs. Alving's wish?

MRS. ALVING. Bring the gla.s.s, Regina.

[REGINA goes out into the dining-room.]

OSWALD. [Follows her with his eyes.] Have you noticed how she walks?--so firmly and lightly!

MRS. ALVING. This can never be, Oswald!

OSWALD. It's a settled thing. Can't you see that? It's no use saying anything against it.

[REGINA enters with an empty gla.s.s, which she keeps in her hand.]