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) Not to be
able to work, it's--!

Mrs. Alving. I don't believe you were wise to come home.

Oswald. Yes, mother; I had to.

Mrs. Alving. Because I would ten times rather give up the
happiness of having you with me, sooner than that you should--

Oswald (standing still by the table). Tell me, mother--is it
really such a great happiness for you to have me at home?

Mrs. Alving. Can you ask?

Oswald (crumpling up a newspaper). I should have thought it would
have been pretty much the same to you whether I were here or
away.

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

Oswald. But you have been quite happy living without me so far.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, I have lived without you--that is true.

(A silence. The dusk falls by degrees. OSWALD walks restlessly up
and down. He has laid aside his cigar.) Oswald (stopping beside
MRS. ALVING). Mother, may I sit on the couch beside you?

Mrs. Alving. Of course, my dear boy.

Oswald (sitting down). Now I must tell you something mother.

Mrs. Alving (anxiously). What?

Oswald (staring in front of him). I can't bear it any longer.

Mrs. Alving. Bear what? What do you mean?

Oswald (as before). I couldn't bring myself to write to you about
it; and since I have been at home--

Mrs. Alving (catching him by the arm). Oswald, what is it?

Oswald. Both yesterday and today I have tried to push my
thoughts away from me--to free myself from them. But I can't.

Mrs. Alving (getting up). You must speak plainly, Oswald!

Oswald (drawing her down to her seat again). Sit still, and I
will try and tell you. I have made a great deal of the fatigue I
felt after my journey--

Mrs. Alving. Well, what of that?

Oswald. But that isn't what is the matter. It is no ordinary
fatigue--

Mrs. Alving (trying to get up). You are not ill, Oswald!

Oswald (pulling her down again). Sit still, mother. Do take it
quietly. I am not exactly ill--not ill in the usual sense. (Takes
his head in his hands.) Mother, it's my mind that has broken
down--gone to pieces--I shall never be able to work anymore!
(Buries his face in his hands and throws himself at her knees in
an outburst of sobs.)

Mrs. Alving (pale and trembling). Oswald! Look at me! No, no, it
isn't true!

Oswald (looking up with a distracted expression). Never to be
able to work anymore! Never--never! A living death! Mother, can
you imagine anything so horrible!

Mrs. Alving. My poor unhappy boy? How has this terrible thing
happened?

Oswald (sitting up again). That is just what I cannot possibly
understand. I have never lived recklessly, in any sense. You must
believe that of me, mother, I have never done that.

Mrs. Alving. I haven't a doubt of it, Oswald.

Oswald. And yet this comes upon me all the same; this terrible
disaster!

Mrs. Alving. Oh, but it will all come right again, my dear
precious boy. It is nothing but overwork. Believe me, that is so.

Oswald (dully). I thought so too, at first; but it isn't so.

Mrs. Alving. Tell me all about it.

Oswald. Yes, I will.

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