OSWALD. But it wasn't that. I soon found that out. I couldn't work any
more. I wanted to begin upon a big new picture, but my powers seemed to
fail me; all my strength was crippled; I could form no definite images;
everything swam before me--whirling round and round. Oh, it was an awful
state! At last I sent for a doctor--and from him I learned the truth.
MRS. ALVING. How do you mean?
OSWALD. He was one of the first doctors in Paris. I told him my
symptoms; and then he set to work asking me a string of questions which
I thought had nothing to do with the matter. I couldn't imagine what the
man was after--
MRS. ALVING. Well?
OSWALD. At last he said: "There has been something worm-eaten in you
from your birth." He used that very word--_vermoulu_.
MRS. ALVING. [Breathlessly.] What did he mean by that?
OSWALD. I didn't understand either, and begged him to explain himself
more clearly. And then the old cynic said--[Clenching his fist] Oh--!
MRS. ALVING. What did he say?
OSWALD. He said, "The sins of the fathers are visited upon the
children."
MRS. ALVING. [Rising slowly.] The sins of the fathers--!