Ghosts

happened. Manders More repulsive than what you have told me? Mrs. Alving I had gone on bearing with him, although I knew very well the secrets of his life out of doors. But when he brought the scandal within our own walls⁠— Manders Impossible! Here! Mrs. Alving Yes; here in our own home. It was there pointing towards the first door on the right, in the dining room, that I first came to know of it. I was busy with something in there, and the door was standing ajar. I heard our housemaid come up from the garden, with water for those flowers. Manders Well⁠—? Mrs. Alving Soon after, I heard Alving come in too. I heard him say something softly to her. And then I heard⁠—With a short laugh⁠—oh! it still sounds in my ears, so hateful and yet so ludicrous⁠—I heard my own servant-maid whisper, “Let me go, Mr. Alving! Let me be!” Manders What unseemly levity on his part! But it cannot have been more than levity, Mrs. Alving; believe me, it cannot. Mrs. Alving I soon knew what to believe. Mr. Alving had his way with the girl; and that connection had consequences, Mr. Manders. Manders As though petrified. Such things in this house⁠—in this house! Mrs. Alving I had borne a great deal in this house. To keep him at home in the evenings, and at night, I had to make myself his boon companion in his secret orgies up in his room. There I have had to sit alone with him, to clink glasses and drink with him, and to listen to his ribald, silly talk. I have had to fight with him to get him dragged to bed⁠— Manders Moved. And you were able to bear all this! Mrs. Alving I had to bear it for my little boy’s sake. But when the last insult was added; when my own servant-maid⁠—; then I swore to myself: This shall come to an end! And so I took the reins into my own hand⁠—the whole control⁠—over him and everything else. For now I had a weapon against him, you see; he dared not oppose me. It was then I sent Oswald away from home. He was nearly seven years old, and was beginning to observe and ask questions, as children do. That I could not bear. It seemed to me the child must be poisoned by merely breathing the air of this polluted home. That was why I sent him away. And now you can see, too, why he was never allowed to set foot inside his home so long as his father lived. No one knows what that cost me. Manders You have indeed had a life of trial. Mrs. Alving I could never have borne it if I had not had my work. For I may truly say that I have worked! All the additions to the estate⁠—all the improvements⁠—all the laboursaving appliances, that Alving was so much praised for having introduced⁠—do you suppose he had energy for anything of the sort?⁠—he, who lay all day on the sofa, reading an old Court Guide! No; but I may tell you this too: when he had his better intervals, it was I who urged him on; it was I who had to drag the whole load when he relapsed into his evil ways, or sank into querulous wretchedness. Manders And it is to this man that you raise a memorial? Mrs. Alving There you see the power of an evil conscience. Manders Evil⁠—? What do you mean? Mrs. Alving It always seemed to me impossible but that the truth must come out and be believed. So the Orphanage was to deaden all rumours and set every doubt at rest. Manders In that you have certainly not missed your aim, Mrs. Alving. Mrs. Alving And besides, I had one other reason. I was determined that Oswald, my own boy, should inherit nothing whatever from his father. Manders Then it is Alving’s fortune that⁠—? Mrs. Alving Yes. The sums I have spent upon the Orphanage, year by year, make up the amount⁠—I have reckoned it up precisely⁠—the amount which made Lieutenant Alving “a good match” in his day. Manders I don’t understand⁠— Mrs. Alving It was my purchase-money. I do not choose that that money should pass into Oswald’s hands. My son shall have everything from me⁠—everything. Oswald Alving enters through the second door to the right; he has taken off his hat and overcoat in the hall. Mrs. Alving Going towards him. Are you back again already? My dear, dear boy! Oswald Yes. What can a fellow do out of doors in this eternal rain? But I hear dinner is ready. That’s capital! Regina With a parcel, from the dining room. A parcel has come for you, Mrs. Alving. Hands it to her. Mrs. Alving With a glance at Mr. Manders. No doubt copies of the ode for tomorrow’s ceremony. Manders H’m⁠— Regina And dinner is ready. Mrs. Alving Very well. We will come directly. I will just⁠—Begins to open the parcel. Regina To Oswald. Would Mr. Alving like red or white wine? Oswald Both, if you please. Regina Bien. Very well, sir. She goes into the dining room. Oswald I may as well help to uncork it. He also goes into the dining room, the door of which swings half open behind him. Mrs. Alving Who has opened the parcel. Yes, I thought so. Here is the Ceremonial Ode, Pastor Manders. Manders With folded hands. With what countenance I am to deliver my discourse tomorrow⁠—! Mrs. Alving Oh, you will get through it somehow. Manders Softly, so as not to be heard in the dining room. Yes; it would not do to provoke scandal. Mrs. Alving Under her breath, but firmly. No. But then this long, hateful comedy will be ended. From the day after tomorrow, I shall act in every way as though he who is dead had never lived in this house. There shall be no one here but my boy and his mother. From the dining room comes the noise of a chair overturned, and at the same moment is heard: Regina Sharply, but in a whisper. Oswald! take care! are you mad? Let me go!