Ghosts

epub:type="z3998:persona">Oswald At last he said: “There has been something worm-eaten in you from your birth.” He used that very word⁠—vermoulu. Mrs. Alving Breathlessly. What did he mean by that? Oswald I didn’t understand either, and begged him to explain himself more clearly. And then the old cynic said⁠—Clenching his fist. Oh⁠—! Mrs. Alving What did he say? Oswald He said, “The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.” Mrs. Alving Rising slowly. The sins of the fathers⁠—! Oswald I very nearly struck him in the face⁠— Mrs. Alving Walks away across the room. The sins of the fathers⁠— Oswald Smiles sadly. Yes; what do you think of that? Of course I assured him that such a thing was out of the question. But do you think he gave in? No, he stuck to it; and it was only when I produced your letters and translated the passages relating to father⁠— Mrs. Alving But then⁠—? Oswald Then of course he had to admit that he was on the wrong track; and so I learned the truth⁠—the incomprehensible truth! I ought not to have taken part with my comrades in that lighthearted, glorious life of theirs. It had been too much for my strength. So I had brought it upon myself! Mrs. Alving Oswald! No, no; do not believe it! Oswald No other explanation was possible, he said. That’s the awful part of it. Incurably ruined for life⁠—by my own heedlessness! All that I meant to have done in the world⁠—I never dare think of it again⁠—I’m not able to think of it. Oh! if I could only live over again, and undo all I have done! He buries his face in the sofa. Mrs. Alving Wrings her hands and walks, in silent struggle, backwards and forwards. Oswald After a while, looks up and remains resting upon his elbow. If it had only been something inherited⁠—something one wasn’t responsible for! But this! To have thrown away so shamefully, thoughtlessly, recklessly, one’s own happiness, one’s own health, everything in the world⁠—one’s future, one’s very life⁠—! Mrs. Alving No, no, my dear, darling boy; this is impossible! Bends over him. Things are not so desperate as you think. Oswald Oh, you don’t know⁠—Springs up. And then, Mother, to cause you all this sorrow! Many a time I have almost wished and hoped that at bottom you didn’t care so very much about me. Mrs. Alving I, Oswald? My only boy! You are all I have in the world! The only thing I care about! Oswald Seizes both her hands and kisses them. Yes, yes, I see it. When I’m at home, I see it, of course; and that’s almost the hardest part for me.⁠—But now you know the whole story and now we won’t talk any more about it today. I daren’t think of it for long together. Goes up the room. Get me something to drink, Mother. Mrs. Alving To drink? What do you want to drink now? Oswald Oh, anything you like. You have some cold punch in the house. Mrs. Alving Yes, but my dear Oswald⁠— Oswald Don’t refuse me, Mother. Do be kind, now! I must have something to wash down all these gnawing thoughts. Goes into the conservatory. And then⁠—it’s so dark here! Mrs. Alving pulls a bell-rope on the right. And this ceaseless rain! It may go on week after week, for months together. Never to get a glimpse of the sun! I can’t recollect ever having seen the sun shine all the times I’ve been at home. Mrs. Alving Oswald⁠—you are thinking of going away from me. Oswald H’m⁠—Drawing a heavy breath.⁠—I’m not thinking of anything. I cannot think of anything! In a low voice. I let thinking alone. Regina From the dining room. Did you ring, ma’am? Mrs. Alving Yes; let us have the lamp in. Regina Yes, ma’am. It’s ready lighted. Goes out. Mrs. Alving Goes across to Oswald. Oswald, be frank with me. Oswald Well, so I am, Mother. Goes to the table. I think I have told you enough. Regina brings the lamp and sets it upon the table. Mrs. Alving Regina, you may bring us a small bottle of champagne. Regina Very well, ma’am. Goes out. Oswald Puts his arm round Mrs. Alving’s neck. That’s just what I wanted. I knew mother wouldn’t let her boy go thirsty. Mrs. Alving My own, poor, darling Oswald; how could I deny you anything now? Oswald Eagerly. Is that true, Mother? Do you mean it? Mrs. Alving How? What? Oswald That you couldn’t deny me anything. Mrs. Alving My dear Oswald⁠— Oswald Hush! Regina Brings a tray with a half-bottle of champagne and two glasses, which she sets on the table. Shall I open it? Oswald No, thanks. I will do it myself. Regina goes out again. Mrs. Alving Sits down by the table. What was it you meant⁠—that I mustn’t deny you? Oswald Busy opening the bottle. First let us have a glass⁠—or two. The cork pops; he pours wine into one glass, and is about to pour it into the other. Mrs. Alving Holding her hand over it. Thanks; not for me. Oswald Oh! won’t you? Then I will! He empties the glass, fills, and empties it again; then he sits down by the table. Mrs. Alving In expectancy. Well? Oswald Without looking at her. Tell me⁠—I thought you and Pastor Manders seemed so odd⁠—so quiet⁠—at dinner today. Mrs. Alving Did you notice it? Oswald Yes. H’m⁠—After a short silence. Tell me: what do you think of Regina? Mrs. Alving What do I think? Oswald Yes; isn’t she splendid? Mrs. Alving My dear Oswald, you don’t know her as I do⁠— Oswald Well? Mrs. Alving Regina, unfortunately, was allowed to stay at home too long. I ought to have taken her earlier into my house. Oswald Yes, but isn’t she splendid to look at, Mother? He fills his glass. Mrs. Alving Regina has many serious faults⁠— Oswald Oh, what does that matter? He drinks again. Mrs. Alving But I am fond of her, nevertheless, and I am responsible for her. I wouldn’t for all the world have any harm happen to her. Oswald Springs up. Mother, Regina is my only salvation! Mrs. Alving Rising. What do you mean by that?