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not for me.

Oswald. Oh, well, for me then! (He empties his glass, fills it
again and empties it; then sits down at the table.)

Mrs. Alving (expectantly). Now, tell me.

Oswald (without looking at her). Tell me this; I thought you and
Mr. Manders seemed so strange--so quiet--at dinner.

Mrs. Alving. Did you notice that?

Oswald. Yes. Ahem! (After a short pause.) Tell me--what do you
think of Regina?

Mrs. Alving. What do I think of her?

Oswald. Yes, isn't she splendid!

Mrs. Alving. Dear Oswald, you don't know her as well as I do--

Oswald. What of that?

Mrs. Alving. Regina was too long at home, unfortunately. I ought
to have taken her under my charge sooner.

Oswald. Yes, but isn't she splendid to look at, mother? (Fills
his glass,)

Mrs. Alving. Regina has many serious faults--

Oswald. Yes, but what of that? (Drinks.)

Mrs. Alving. But I am fond of her, all the same; and I have made
myself responsible for her. I wouldn't for the world she should
come to any harm.

Oswald (jumping up). Mother, Regina is my only hope of salvation!

Mrs. Alving (getting up). What do you mean?

Oswald. I can't go on bearing all this agony of mind alone.

Mrs. Alving, Haven't you your mother to help you to bear it?

Oswald. Yes, I thought so; that was why I came home to you. But
it is no use; I see that it isn't. I cannot spend my life here.

Mrs. Alving. Oswald!

Oswald. I must live a different sort of life, mother; so I shall
have to go away from you, I don't want you watching it.

Mrs. Alving. My unhappy boy! But, Oswald, as long as you are ill
like this--

Oswald. If it was only a matter of feeling ill, I would stay with
you, mother. You are the best friend I have in the world.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, I am that, Oswald, am I not?

Oswald (walking restlessly about). But all this torment--the
regret, the remorse--and the deadly fear. Oh--this horrible fear!

Mrs. Alving (following him). Fear? Fear of what? What do you
mean?

Oswald. Oh, don't ask me any more about it. I don't know what it
is. I can't put it into words. (MRS. ALVING crosses the room and
rings the bell.) What do you want?

Mrs. Alving. I want my boy to be happy, that's what I want. He
mustn't brood over anything. (To REGINA, who has come to the
door.) More champagne-- a large bottle.

Oswald. Mother!

Mrs. Alving. Do you think we country people don't know how to
live?

Oswald. Isn't she splendid to look at? What a figure! And the
picture of health!

Mrs. Alving (sitting down at the table). Sit down, Oswald, and
let us have a quiet talk.

Oswald (sitting down). You don't know, mother, that I owe Regina
a little reparation.

Mrs. Alving. You!

Oswald. Oh, it was only a little thoughtlessness--call it what
you like. Something quite innocent, anyway. The last time I was
home--

Mrs. Alving. Yes?

Oswald. --she used often to ask me questions about Paris, and I
told her one thing and another about the life there. And I
remember saying one day: "Wouldn't you like to go there yourself?"

Mrs. Alving.

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