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That's how I
feel about it, truly. (Bows, and goes out.)

Manders. Now then, what do you think of him, Mrs Alving! That was
quite another explanation that he gave us.

Mrs. Alving. It was, indeed.

Manders. There, you see how exceedingly careful we ought to be in
condemning our fellow-men. But at the same time it gives one
genuine pleasure to find that one was mistaken. Don't you think
so?

Mrs. Alving. What I think is that you are, and always will
remain, a big baby, Mr. Manders.

Menders. I?

Mrs. Alving (laying her hands on his shoulders). And I think that
I should like very much to give you a good hug.

Manders (drawing beck hastily). No, no, good gracious! What an
idea!

Mrs. Alving (with a smile). Oh, you needn't be afraid of me.

Manders (standing by the table). You choose such an extravagant
way of expressing yourself sometimes. Now I must get these papers
together and put them in my bag. (Does so.) That's it. And now
goodbye, for the present. Keep your eyes open when Oswald comes
back. I will come back and see you again presently.

(He takes his hat and goes out by the hall door. MRS. ALVING
sighs, glances out of the window, puts one or two things tidy in
the room and turns to go into the dining-room. She stops in the
doorway with a stifled cry.)

Mrs. Alving. Oswald, are you still sitting at table!

Oswald (from the dining-room). I am only finishing my cigar.

Mrs. Alving. I thought you had gone out for a little turn.

Oswald (from within the room). In weather like this? (A glass is
heard clinking. MRS. ALVING leaves the door open and sits down
with her knitting on the couch by the window.) Wasn't that Mr.
Manders that went out just now?

Mrs. Alving. Yes, he has gone over to the Orphanage.

Oswald. Oh. (The clink of a bottle on a glass is heard again.)

Mrs. Alving (with an uneasy expression.) Oswald, dear, you should
be careful with that liqueur. It is strong.

Oswald. It's a good protective against the damp.

Mrs. Alving. Wouldn't you rather come in here?

Oswald. You know you don't like smoking in there.

Mrs. Alving. You may smoke a cigar in here, certainly.

Oswald. All right; I will come in, then. Just one drop more.
There! (Comes in, smoking a cigar, and shuts the door after him.
A short silence.) Where has the parson gone?

Mrs. Alving. I told you he had gone over to the Orphanage.

Oswald. Oh, so you did.

Mrs. Alving. You shouldn't sit so long at table, Oswald,

Oswald (holding his cigar behind his back). But it's so nice and
cosy, mother dear. (Caresses her with one hand.) Think what it
means to me--to have come home; to sit at my mother's own table,
in my mother's own room, and to enjoy the charming meals she
gives me.

Mrs. Alving. My dear, dear boy!

Oswald (a little impatiently, as he walks tip and down smoking.)
And what else is there for me to do here? I have no occupation--

Mrs. Alving. No occupation?

Oswald. Not in this ghastly weather, when there isn't a blink of
sunshine all day long. (Walks up and down the floor.

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