If it becomes necessary. But it shan't become
necessary: No, no--it is impossible it should!
Oswald. Let us hope so. And let us live together as long as we
can. Thank you, mother.
(He sits down in the armchair, which MRS. ALVING had moved beside
the couch. Day is breaking; the lamp is still burning on the
table.)
Mrs. Alving (coming cautiously nearer). Do you feel calmer now?
Oswald. Yes.
Mrs. Alving (bending over him). It has only been a dreadful fancy
of yours, Oswald. Nothing but fancy. All this upset has been bad for
you. But now you will get some rest, at home with your own mother, my
darling boy. You shall have everything you want, just as you did
when you were a little child.--There, now. The attack is over.
You see how easily it passed off! I knew it would.--And look,
Oswald, what a lovely day we are going to have? Brilliant
sunshine. Now you will be able to see your home properly. (She
goes to the table and puts out the lamp. It is sunrise. The
glaciers and peaks in the distance are seen bathed in bright
morning fight.
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