and now we won't talk any
more about it to-day. I daren't think of it for long together. [Goes up
the room.] Get me something to drink, mother.

MRS. ALVING. To drink? What do you want to drink now?

OSWALD. Oh, anything you like. You have some cold punch in the house.

MRS. ALVING. Yes, but my dear Oswald--

OSWALD. Don't refuse me, mother. Do be kind, now! I must have something
to wash down all these gnawing thoughts. [Goes into the conservatory.]
And then--it's so dark here! [MRS. ALVING pulls a bell-rope on the
right.] And this ceaseless rain! It may go on week after week, for
months together. Never to get a glimpse of the sun! I can't recollect
ever having seen the sun shine all the times I've been at home.

MRS. ALVING. Oswald--you are thinking of going away from me.

OSWALD. H'm--[Drawing a heavy breath.]--I'm not thinking of anything. I
cannot think of anything! [In a low voice.] I let thinking alone.

REGINA. [From the dining-room.] Did you ring, ma'am?

MRS. ALVING. Yes; let us have the lamp in.

REGINA. Yes, ma'am. It's ready lighted. [Goes out.]

MRS. ALVING. [Goes across to OSWALD.] Oswald, be frank with me.

OSWALD. Well, so I am, mother. [Goes to the table.] I think I have told
you enough.

[REGINA brings the lamp and sets it upon the table.]

MRS. ALVING. Regina, you may bring us a small bottle of champagne.

REGINA. Very well, ma'am. [Goes out.]

OSWALD. [Puts his arm round MRS. ALVING's neck.] That's just what I
wanted. I knew mother wouldn't let her boy go thirsty.

MRS. ALVING. My own, poor, darling Oswald; how could I deny you anything
now?

OSWALD. [Eagerly.] Is that true, mother? Do you mean it?

MRS. ALVING. How? What?

OSWALD. That you couldn't deny me anything.

MRS. ALVING. My dear Oswald--

OSWALD. Hush!

REGINA. [Brings a tray with a half-bottle of champagne and two glasses,
which she sets on the table.] Shall I open it?

OSWALD. No, thanks. I will do it myself.

[REGINA goes out again.]

MRS. ALVING. [Sits down by the table.] What was it you meant--that I
musn't deny you?

OSWALD. [Busy opening the bottle.] First let us have a glass--or two.

[The cork pops; he pours wine into one glass, and is about to pour it
into the other.]

MRS. ALVING. [Holding her hand over it.] Thanks; not for me.

OSWALD. Oh! won't you? Then I will!

[He empties the glass, fells, and empties it again; then he sits down by
the table.]

MRS. ALVING. [In expectancy.] Well?

O