Mrs. Alving. You will soon find you are able to work again now, my dear boy. You have no longer all those painful depressing thoughts to brood over.
Oswald. No, it is a good thing that you have been able to rid me of those fancies; if only, now, I could overcome this one thing--(Sits down on the couch.) Let us have a little chat, mother.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, let us. (Pushes an armchair near to the couch and sits down beside him.)Oswald. The sun is rising--and you know all about it; so I don't feel the fear any longer.
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.
Mrs. Alving (almost speechless). Oswald! No--no!
Oswald. Don't scream; I can't stand it. Yes, I tell you, it lies here, waiting. And any time, any moment, it may break out.
Mrs. Alving. How horrible--!
Oswald. Do keep quiet. That is the state I am in--Mrs. Alving (springing up). It isn't true, Oswald! It is impossible! It can't be that!
Oswald. I had one attack while I was abroad. It passed off quickly. But when I learned the condition I had been in, then this dreadful haunting fear took possession of me.
Mrs. Alving. That was the fear, then--
Oswald. Yes, it is so indescribably horrible, you know If only it had been an ordinary mortal disease--. I am not so much afraid of dying; though, of course, I should like to live as long as I can.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, yes, Oswald, you must!
Oswald. But this is so appallingly horrible. To become like a helpless child again--to have to be fed, to have to be--. Oh, it's unspeakable!
Mrs. Alving. My child has his mother to tend him.
Oswald (jumping up). No, never; that is just what I won't endure!
I dare not think what it would mean to linger on like that for years--to get old and grey like that. And you might die before Idid. (Sits down in MRS. ALVING'S chair.) Because it doesn't necessarily have a fatal end quickly, the doctor said; he called it a kind of softening of the brain--or something of that sort.
(Smiles mournfully.) I think that expression sounds so nice. It always makes me think of cherry-coloured velvet curtains--something that is soft to stroke.
Mrs. Alving (with a scream). Oswald!
Oswald (jumps up and walks about the room). And now you have taken Regina from me! If I had only had her, she would have given me a helping hand, I know.
Mrs. Alving (going up to him). What do you mean, my darling boy?
Is there any help in the world I would not be willing to give you?
Oswald. When I had recovered from the attack I had abroad, the doctor told me that when it recurred--and it will recur--there would be no more hope.
Mrs. Alving. And he was heartless enough to--Oswald. I insisted on knowing. I told him I had arrangements to make--. (Smiles cunningly.) And so I had. (Takes a small box from his inner breast-pocket.) Mother, do you see this?
Mrs. Alving. What is it?
Oswald. Morphia powders.
Mrs. Alving (looking at him in terror). Oswald--my boy!
Oswald. I have twelve of them saved up--
