Mrs. Alving. I know all about what?
Oswald (without listening to her). Mother, isn't it the case that
you said this evening there was nothing in the world you would
not do for me if I asked you?
Mrs. Alving. Yes, certainly I said so.
Oswald. And will you be as good as your word, mother?
Mrs. Alving. You may rely upon that, my own dear boy. I have
nothing else to live for, but you.
Oswald. Yes, yes; well, listen to me, mother, You are very
strong-minded, I know. I want you to sit quite quiet when you
hear what I am going to tell you,
Mrs. Alving. But what is this dreadful thing--?
Oswald. You mustn't scream. Do you hear? Will you promise me
that? We are going to sit and talk it over quite quietly. Will
you promise me that, mother?
Mrs. Alving. Yes, yes, I promise--only tell me what it is.
Oswald. Well, then, you must know that this fatigue of mine--and
my mot being able to think about my work--all that is not really
the illness itself--
Mrs. Alving. What is the illness itself?
Oswald. What I am suffering from is hereditary; it--(touches his
forehead, and speaks very quietly)--it lies here.
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