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Mrs. Alving. But that is impossible; Regina is not equal to it,
unfortunately.

Manders, I don't understand: What do you mean?

Mrs. Alving. If I were not such a miserable coward, I would say
to him: "Marry her, or make any arrangement you like with her--
only let there be no deceit in the matter."

Manders. Heaven forgive you! Are you actually suggesting anything
so abominable, so unheard of, as a marriage between them!

Mrs. Alving. Unheard of, do you call it? Tell me honestly, Mr.
Manders, don't you suppose there are plenty of married couples
out here in the country that are just as nearly related as they
are?

Manders. I am sure I don't understand you.

Mrs. Alving. Indeed you do.

Manders. I suppose you are thinking of cases where possibly--. It
is only too true, unfortunately, that family life is not always
as stainless as it should be. But as for the sort of thing you
hint at--well, it's impossible to tell, at all events, with any
certainty. Here on the other hand--for you, a mother, to be
willing to allow your--

Mrs. Alving. But I am not willing to allow it; I would not allow
it for anything in the world; that is just what I was saying.

Manders. No, because you are a coward, as you put it. But,
supposing you were not a coward--! Great heavens--such a
revolting union!

Mrs. Alving. Well, for the matter of that, we are all descended
from a union of that description, so we are told. And who was it
that was responsible for this state of things, Mr. Manders?

Manders. I can't discuss such questions with you, Mrs. Alving;
you are by no means in the right frame of mind for that. But for
you to dare to say that it is cowardly of you--!

Mrs. Alving. I will tell you what I mean by that. I am frightened
and timid, because I am obsessed by the presence of ghosts that I
never can get rid of,

Manders. The presence of what?

Mrs. Alving. Ghosts. When I heard Regina and Oswald in there, it
was just like seeing ghosts before my eyes. I am half inclined to
think we are all ghosts, Mr. Manders. It is not only what we have
inherited from our fathers and mothers that exists again in us,
but all sorts of old dead ideas and all kinds of old dead beliefs
and things of that kind. They are not actually alive in us; but
there they are dormant, all the same, and we can never be rid of
them. Whenever I take up a newspaper and read it, I fancy I see
ghosts creeping between the lines. There must be ghosts all over
the world. They must be as countless as the grains of the sands,
it seems to me. And we are so miserably afraid of the light, all
of us.

Manders. Ah!--there we have the outcome of your reading. Fine
fruit it has borne--this abominable, subversive, free-thinking
literature!

Mrs. Alving. You are wrong there, my friend. You are the one who
made me begin to think; and I owe you my best thanks for it.

Menders. I!

Mrs. Alving. Yes, by forcing me to submit to what you called my
duty and my obligations; by praising as right and lust what my
whole soul revolted against, as it would against something

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