Previous  - next

and fathers have come out there to have a bit of a look round on
their own account, and have done the artists the honour of
looking them up in their humble quarters. Then we had a chance of
learning something, I can tell you. These gentlemen were able to
instruct us about places and things that we had never so much as
dreamt of.

Manders. What? Do you want me to believe that honourable men when
they get away from home will--

Oswald. Have you never, when these same honourable men come home
again, heard them deliver themselves on the subject of the
prevalence of immorality abroad?

Manders. Yes, of course, but--

Mrs. Alving. I have heard them, too.

Oswald. Well, you can take their word for it, unhesitatingly.
Some of them are experts in the matter. (Putting his hands to his
head.) To think that the glorious freedom of the beautiful life
over there should be so besmirched!

Mrs. Alving. You mustn't get too heated, Oswald; you gain nothing
by that.

Oswald. No, you are quite right, mother. Besides, it isn't good
for me. It's because I am so infernally tired, you know. I will
go out and take a turn before dinner. I beg your pardon, Mr.
Manders. It is impossible for you to realise the feeling; but it
takes me that way (Goes out by the farther door on the right.)

Mrs. Alving. My poor boy!

Manders. You may well say so. This is what it has brought him to!
(MRS. ALVING looks at him, but does not speak.) He called himself
the prodigal son. It's only too true, alas--only too true! (MRS.
ALVING looks steadily at him.) And what do you say to all this?

Mrs. Alving. I say that Oswald was right in every single word he
said.

Manders. Right? Right? To hold such principles as that?

Mrs. Alving. In my loneliness here I have come to just the same
opinions as he, Mr. Manders. But I have never presumed to venture
upon such topics in conversation. Now there is no need; my boy
shall speak for me.

Manders. You deserve the deepest pity, Mrs. Alving. It is my duty
to say an earnest word to you. It is no longer your businessman
and adviser, no longer your old friend and your dead husband's
old friend, that stands before you now. It is your priest that
stands before you, just as he did once at the most critical
moment of your life.

Mrs. Alving. And what is it that my priest has to say to me?

Manders. First of all I must stir your memory. The moment is well
chosen. Tomorrow is the tenth anniversary of your husband's
death; tomorrow the memorial to the departed will be unveiled;
tomorrow I shall speak to the whole assembly that will be met
together, But today I want to speak to you alone.

Mrs. Alving, Very well, Mr. Manders, speak!

Manders. Have you forgotten that after barely a year of married
life you were standing at the very edge of a precipice?--that you
forsook your house and home? that you ran away from your husband--
yes, Mrs. Alving, ran away, ran away-=and refused to return to
him in spite of his requests and entreaties?

Mrs. Alving. Have you forgotten how unspeakably unhappy I was

Previous  - next