MRS. ALVING. Oh, you'll soon be able to work again, my dear boy--now
that you haven't got all those gnawing and depressing thoughts to brood
over any longer.
OSWALD. Yes, I'm glad you were able to rid me of all those fancies. And
when I've got over this one thing more--[Sits on the sofa.] Now we will
have a little talk, mother--
MRS. ALVING. Yes, let us. [She pushes an arm-chair towards the sofa, and
sits down close to him.]
OSWALD. And meantime the sun will be rising. And then you will know all.
And then I shall not feel this dread any longer.
MRS. ALVING. What is it that I am to know?
OSWALD. [Not listening to her.] Mother, did you not say a little while
ago, that there was nothing in the world you would not do for me, if I
asked you?
MRS. ALVING. Yes, indeed I said so!
OSWALD. And you'll stick to it, mother?
MRS. ALVING. You may rely on that, my dear and only boy! I have nothing
in the world to live for but you alone.
OSWALD. Very well, then; now you shall hear--Mother, you have a strong,
steadfast mind, I know. Now you're to sit quite still when you hear it.
MRS. ALVING. What dreadful thing can it be--?
OSWALD. You're not to scream out. Do you hear? Do you promise me that?
We will sit and talk about it quietly. Do you promise me, mother?
MRS. ALVING. Yes, yes; I promise. Only speak!
OSWALD. Well, you must know that all this fatigue--and my inability to
think of work--all that is not the illness itself--
MRS. ALVING. Then what is the illness itself?
OSWALD. The disease I have as my birthright--[He points to his forehead
and adds very softly]--is seated here.
MRS. ALVING. [Almost voiceless.] Oswald! No--no!
OSWALD. Don't scream. I can't bear it. Yes, mother, it is seated here
waiting. And it may break out any day--at any moment.
MRS. ALVING. Oh, what horror--!