Oswald. That--and the joy of work. They are really the same thing at bottom. Put you don't know anything about that either.
Mrs. Alving. Perhaps you are right. Tell me some more about it, Oswald.
Oswald. Well, all I mean is that here people are brought up to believe that work is a curse and a punishment for sin, and that life is a state of wretchedness and that the sooner we can get out of it the better.
Mrs. Alving. A vale of tears, yes. And we quite conscientiously make it so.
Oswald. But the people over there will have none of that. There is no one there who really believes doctrines of that kind any longer. Over there the mere fact of being alive is thought to be a matter for exultant happiness. Mother, have you noticed that everything I have painted has turned upon the joy of life?--always upon the joy of life, unfailingly. There is light there, and sunshine, and a holiday feeling--and people's faces beaming with happiness. That is why I am afraid to stay at home here with you.
Mrs. Alving. Afraid? What are you afraid of here, with me?
Oswald. I am afraid that all these feelings that are so strong in me would degenerate into something ugly here.
Mrs. Alving (looking steadily at him). Do you think that is what would happen?
Oswald. I am certain it would. Even if one lived the same life at home here, as over there--it would never really be the same life.
Mrs. Alving (who has listened anxiously to him, gets up with a thoughtful expression and says:) Now I see clearly how it all happened.
Oswald. What do you see?
Mrs. Alving. I see it now for the first time. And now I can speak.
Oswald (getting up). Mother, I don't understand you.
Regina (who has got up also). Perhaps I had better go.
Mrs. Alving. No, stay here. Now I can speak. Now, my son, you shall know the whole truth. Oswald! Regina!
Oswald. Hush!--here is the parson.
(MANDERS comes in by the hall door.)
Manders. Well, my friends, we have been spending an edifying time over there.
Oswald. So have we.
Manders. Engstrand must have help with his Sailors Home. Regina must go home with him and give him her assistance.
Regina. No, thank you, Mr. Manders.
Manders (perceiving her for the first time). What--?You in here?--and with a wineglass in your hand!
Regina (putting down the glass hastily). I beg your pardon--!
Oswald. Regina is going away with me, Mr. Manders.
Manders. Going away! With you!
Oswald. Yes, as my wife--if she insists on that.
Manders. But, good heavens--!
Regina. It is not my fault, Mr. Manders.
Oswald. Or else she stays here if I stay.
Regina (involuntarily). Here!
Manders. I am amazed at you, Mrs. Alving.
Mrs. Alving. Neither of those things will happen, for now I can speak openly.
Manders. But you won't do that! No, no, no!
Mrs. Alving. Yes, I can and I will. And without destroying anyone's ideals.
Oswald. Mother, what is it that is being concealed from me?
Regina (listening). Mrs. Alving! Listen! They are shouting outside.
(Goes into the conservatory and looks out.)
Oswald (going to the window on the left). What can be the matter?
Where does that glare come from?
Regina (calls out). The Orphanage is on fire!
Mrs. Alving (going to the window). On fire?
Manders. On fire? Impossible. I was there just a moment ago.
Oswald. Where is my hat? Oh, never mind that. Father's Orphanage--!
(Runs out through the garden door.)
Mrs. Alving. My shawl, Regina! The whole place is in flames.
Manders. How terrible! Mrs. Alving, that fire is a judgment on this house of sin!
Mrs. Alving. Quite so. Come, Regina.
(She and REGINA hurry out.)
Manders (clasping his hands). And no insurance! (Follows them out.)
