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.
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