ACT THIRD.

Mrs. Alving.

And then?

Oswald.

Of course I had forgotten all about it; but the day before yesterday I happened to ask her whether she was glad I was to stay at home so long——

Mrs. Alving.

Yes?

Oswald.

And then she gave me such a strange look, and asked, “But what’s to become of my trip to Paris?”

Mrs. Alving.

Her trip!

Oswald.

And so it came out that she had taken the thing seriously; that she had been thinking of me the whole time, and had set to work to learn French——

Mrs. Alving.

Sothatwas why——!

Oswald.

Mother—when I saw that fresh, lovely, splendid girl standing there before me—till then I had hardly noticed her—but when she stood there as though with open arms ready to receive me——

Mrs. Alving.

Oswald!

Oswald.

——then it flashed upon me that in her lay my salvation; for I saw that she was full of the joy of life.

Mrs. Alving.

[Starts.] The joy of life——? Can there be salvation inthat?

Regina.

[From the dining-room, with a bottle of champagne.] I’m sorry to have been so long, but I had to go to the cellar.[Places the bottle on the table.

Oswald.

And now bring another glass.

Regina.

[Looks at him in surprise.] There is Mrs. Alving’s glass, Mr. Alving.

Oswald.

Yes, but bring one for yourself, Regina. [Reginastarts and gives a lightning-like side glance atMrs. Alving.] Why do you wait?

Regina.

[Softly and hesitatingly.] Is it Mrs. Alving’s wish?

Mrs. Alving.

Bring the glass, Regina.

[Reginagoes out into the dining-room.

Oswald.

[Follows her with his eyes.] Have you noticed how she walks?—so firmly and lightly!

Mrs. Alving.

This can never be, Oswald!

Oswald.

It’s a settled thing. Can’t you see that? It’s no use saying anything against it.

[Reginaenters with an empty glass, which she keeps in her hand.

Oswald.

Sit down, Regina.

[Reginalooks inquiringly at Mrs. Alving.

Mrs. Alving.

Sit down. [Reginasits on a chair by the dining-room door, still holding the empty glass in her hand.] Oswald—what were you saying about the joy of life?

Oswald.

Ah, the joy of life, mother—that’s a thing you don’t know much about in these parts. I have never felt it here.

Mrs. Alving.

Not when you are with me?

Oswald.

Not when I’m at home. But you don’t understand that.

Mrs. Alving.

Yes, yes; I think I almost understand it—now.

Oswald.

And then, too, the joy of work! At bottom, it’s the same thing. But that, too, you know nothing about.

Mrs. Alving.

Perhaps you are right. Tell me more about it, Oswald.

Oswald.

I only mean that here people are brought up to believe that work is a curse and a punishment for sin, and that life is something miserable, something it would be best to have done with, the sooner the better.

Mrs. Alving.

“A vale of tears,” yes; and we certainly do our best to make it one.

Oswald.

But in the great world people won’t hear of such things. There, nobody really believes such doctrines any longer. There, you feel it a positive bliss and ecstasy merely to draw the breath of life. Mother, have you noticed that everything I have painted has turned upon the joy of life?—always, always upon the joy of life?—light and sunshine and glorious air—and faces radiant with happiness. That is why I’m afraid of remaining at home with you.

Mrs. Alving.

Afraid? What are you afraid of here, with me?

Oswald.

I’m afraid lest all my instincts should be warped into ugliness.

Mrs. Alving.

[Looks steadily at him.] Do you thinkthatis what would happen?

Oswald.

I know it. You may live the same life here as there, and yet it won’t be the same life.

Mrs. Alving.

[Who has been listening eagerly, rises, her eyes big with thought, and says:] Now I see the sequence of things.

Oswald.

What is it you see?

Mrs. Alving.

I see it now for the first time. And now I can speak.

Oswald.

[Rising.] Mother, I don’t understand you.

Regina.

[Who has also risen.] Perhaps I ought to go?

Mrs. Alving.

No. Stay here. Now I can speak. Now, my boy, you shall know the whole truth. And then you can choose. Oswald! Regina!

Oswald.

Hush! The Pastor——

Manders.

[Enters by the hall door.] There! We have had a most edifying time down there.

Oswald.

So have we.

Manders.

We must stand by Engstrand and his Sailors’ Home. Regina must go to him and help him——

Regina.

No thank you, sir.

Manders.

[Noticing her for the first time.] What——? You here? And with a glass in your hand!

Regina.

[Hastily putting the glass down.]Pardon!

Oswald.

Regina is going withme, Mr. Manders.

Manders.

Going! With you!

Oswald.

Yes; as my wife—if she wishes it.

Manders.

But, merciful God——!

Regina.

I can’t help it, sir.

Oswald.

Or she’ll stay here, if I stay.

Regina.

[Involuntarily.] Here!

Manders.

I am thunderstruck at your conduct, Mrs. Alving.

Mrs. Alving.

They will do neither one thing nor the other; for now I can speak out plainly.

Manders.

You surely will not do that! No, no, no!

Mrs. Alving.

Yes, I can speak and I will. And no ideals shall suffer after all.

Oswald.

Mother—what is it you are hiding from me?

Regina.

[Listening.] Oh, ma’am, listen! Don’t you hear shouts outside.

[She goes into the conservatory and looks out.

Oswald.

[At the window on the left.] What’s going on? Where does that light come from?

Regina.

[Cries out.] The Orphanage is on fire!

Mrs. Alving.

[Rushing to the window.] On fire!

Manders.

On fire! Impossible! I’ve just come from there.

Oswald.

Where’s my hat? Oh, never mind it—Father’s Orphanage——!

[He rushes out through the garden door.

Mrs. Alving.

My shawl, Regina! The whole place is in a blaze!

Manders.

Terrible! Mrs. Alving, it is a judgment upon this abode of lawlessness.

Mrs. Alving.

Yes, of course. Come, Regina.

[She andReginahasten out through the hall.

Manders.

[Clasps his hands together.] And we left it uninsured!

[He goes out the same way.

ACT THIRD.

The room as before. All the doors stand open. The lamp is still burning on the table. It is dark out of doors; there is only a faint glow from the conflagration in the background to the left.

Mrs. Alving, with a shawl over her head, stands in the conservatory, looking out.Regina, also with a shawl on, stands a little behind her.

Mrs. Alving.

The whole thing burnt!—burnt to the ground!

Regina.

The basement is still burning.

Mrs. Alving.

How is it Oswald doesn’t come home? There’s nothing to be saved.

Regina.

Should you like me to take down his hat to him?

Mrs. Alving.

Has he not even got his hat on?

Regina.

[Pointing to the hall.] No; there it hangs.

Mrs. Alving.

Let it be. He must come up now. I shall go and look for him myself.

[She goes out through the garden door.

Manders.

[Comes in from the hall.] Is not Mrs. Alving here?

Regina.

She has just gone down the garden.

Manders.

This is the most terrible night I ever went through.

Regina.

Yes; isn’t it a dreadful misfortune, sir?

Manders.

Oh, don’t talk about it! I can hardly bear to think of it.

Regina.

How can it have happened——?

Manders.

Don’t ask me, Miss Engstrand! How shouldIknow? Doyou, too——? Is it not enough that your father——?

Regina.

What about him?

Manders.

Oh, he has driven me distracted——

Engstrand.

[Enters through the hall.] Your Reverence——

Manders.

[Turns round in terror.] Are you after me here, too?

Engstrand.

Yes, strike me dead, but I must——! Oh, Lord! what am I saying? But this is a terrible ugly business, your Reverence.

Manders.

[Walks to and fro.] Alas! alas!

Regina.

What’s the matter?

Engstrand.

Why, it all came of this here prayer-meeting, you see. [Softly.] The bird’s limed, my girl. [Aloud.] And to think it should bemydoing that such a thing should be his Reverence’s doing!

Manders.

But I assure you, Engstrand——

Engstrand.

There wasn’t another soul except your Reverence as ever laid a finger on the candles down there.

Manders.

[Stops.] So you declare. But I certainly cannot recollect that I ever had a candle in my hand.

Engstrand.

And Isawas clear as daylight how your Reverence took the candle and snuffed it with your fingers, and threw away the snuff among the shavings.

Manders.

And you stood and looked on?

Engstrand.

Yes; I saw it as plain as a pike-staff, I did.

Manders.

It’s quite beyond my comprehension. Besides, it has never been my habit to snuff candles with my fingers.

Engstrand.

And terrible risky it looked, too, that it did! But is there such a deal of harm done after all, your Reverence?

Manders.

[Walks restlessly to and fro.] Oh, don’t ask me!

Engstrand.

[Walks with him.] And your Reverence hadn’t insured it, neither?

Manders.

[Continuing to walk up and down.] No, no, no; I have told you so.

Engstrand.

[Following him.] Not insured! And then to go straight away down and set light to the whole thing! Lord, Lord, what a misfortune!

Manders.

[Wipes the sweat from his forehead.] Ay, you may well say that, Engstrand.

Engstrand.

And to think that such a thing should happento a benevolent Institution, that was to have been a blessing both to town and country, as the saying goes! The newspapers won’t be for handling your Reverence very gently, I expect.

Manders.

No; that is just what I am thinking of. That is almost the worst of the whole matter. All the malignant attacks and imputations——! Oh, it makes me shudder to think of it!

Mrs. Alving.

[Comes in from the garden.] He is not to be persuaded to leave the fire.

Manders.

Ah, there you are, Mrs. Alving.

Mrs. Alving.

So you have escaped your Inaugural Address, Pastor Manders.

Manders.

Oh, I should so gladly——

Mrs. Alving.

[In an undertone.] It is all for the best. That Orphanage would have done no one any good.

Manders.

Do you think not?

Mrs. Alving.

Do you think it would?

Manders.

It is a terrible misfortune, all the same.

Mrs. Alving.

Let us speak of it plainly, as a matter of business.—Are you waiting for Mr. Manders, Engstrand?

Engstrand.

[At the hall door.] That’s just what I’m a-doing of, ma’am.

Mrs. Alving.

Then sit down meanwhile.

Engstrand.

Thank you, ma’am; I’d as soon stand.

Mrs. Alving.

[ToManders.] I suppose you are going by the steamer?

Manders.

Yes; it starts in an hour.

Mrs. Alving.

Then be so good as to take all the papers with you. I won’t hear another word about this affair. I have other things to think of——

Manders.

Mrs. Alving——

Mrs. Alving.

Later on I shall send you a Power of Attorney to settle everything as you please.

Manders.

That I will very readily undertake. The original destination of the endowment must now be completely changed, alas!

Mrs. Alving.

Of course it must.

Manders.

I think, first of all, I shall arrange that the Solvik property shall pass to the parish. The land is by no means without value. It can always be turned to account for some purpose or other. And the interest of the money in the Bank I could, perhaps, best apply for the benefit of some undertaking of acknowledged value to the town.

Mrs. Alving.

Do just as you please. The whole matter is now completely indifferent to me.

Engstrand.

Give a thought to my Sailors’ Home, your Reverence.

Manders.

Upon my word, that is not a bad suggestion. That must be considered.

Engstrand.

Oh, devil take considering—Lord forgive me!

Manders.

[With a sigh.] And unfortunately I cannot tell how long I shall be able to retain control of these things—whether public opinion may not compel me to retire. It entirely depends upon the result of the official inquiry into the fire——

Mrs. Alving.

What are you talking about?

Manders.

And the result can by no means be foretold.

Engstrand.

[Comes close to him.] Ay, but it can though. For here stands old Jacob Engstrand.

Manders.

Well well, but——?

Engstrand.

[More softy.] And Jacob Engstrand isn’t the man to desert a noble benefactor in the hour of need, as the saying goes.

Manders.

Yes, but my good fellow—how——?

Engstrand.

Jacob Engstrand may be likened to a sort of a guardian angel, he may, your Reverence.

Manders.

No, no; I really cannot accept that.

Engstrand.

Oh, that’ll be the way of it, all the same. I know a man as has taken others’ sins upon himself before now, I do.

Manders.

Jacob! [Wrings his hand.] Yours is a rare nature. Well, you shall be helped with your Sailors’ Home. That you may rely upon.

[Engstrandtries to thank him, but cannot for emotion.

Manders.

[Hangs his travelling-bag over his shoulder.] And now let us set out. We two will go together.

Engstrand.

[At the dining-room door, softly toRegina.] You come along too, my lass. You shall live as snug as the yolk in an egg.

Regina.Regina.

[Tosses her head.]Merci!

[She goes out into the hall and fetchesManders’sovercoat.

Manders.

Good-bye, Mrs. Alving! and may the spirit of Law and Order descend upon this house, and that quickly.

Mrs. Alving.

Good-bye, Pastor Manders.

[She goes up towards the conservatory, as she seesOswaldcoming in through the garden door.

Engstrand.

[While he andReginahelpMandersto get his coat on.] Good-bye, my child. And if any trouble should come to you, you know where Jacob Engstrand is to be found. [Softly.] Little Harbour Street, h’m——! [ToMrs. AlvingandOswald.] And the refuge for wandering mariners shall be called “Chamberlain Alving’s Home,” that it shall! And if so be as I’m spared to carry on that house in my own way, I make so bold as to promise that it shall be worthy of the Chamberlain’s memory.

Manders.

[In the doorway.] H’m—h’m!—Come along, my dear Engstrand. Good-bye! Good-bye!

[He andEngstrandgo out through the hall.

Oswald.

[Goes towards the table.] What house was he talking about?

Mrs. Alving.

Oh, a kind of Home that he and Pastor Manders want to set up.

Oswald.

It will burn down like the other.

Mrs. Alving.

What makes you think so?

Oswald.

Everything will burn. All that recalls father’s memory is doomed. Here am I, too, burning down. [Reginastarts and looks at him.

Mrs. Alving.

Oswald! You oughtn’t to have remained so long down there, my poor boy.

Oswald.

[Sits down by the table.] I almost think you are right.

Mrs. Alving.

Let me dry your face, Oswald; you are quite wet.

[She dries his face with her pocket-handkerchief.

Oswald.

[Stares indifferently in front of him.] Thanks, mother.

Mrs. Alving.

Are you not tired, Oswald? Should you like to sleep?

Oswald.

[Nervously.] No, no—not to sleep! I never sleep. I only pretend to. [Sadly.] That will come soon enough.

Mrs. Alving.

[Looking sorrowfully at him.] Yes, you really are ill, my blessëd boy.

Regina.

[Eagerly.] Is Mr. Alving ill?

Oswald.

[Impatiently.] Oh, do shut all the doors! This killing dread——

Mrs. Alving.

Close the doors, Regina.

[Reginashuts them and remains standing by the hall door.Mrs. Alvingtakes her shawl off.Reginadoes the same.Mrs. Alvingdraws a chair across toOswald’s, and sits by him.

Mrs. Alving.

There now! I am going to sit beside you——

Oswald.

Yes, do. And Regina shall stay here too.Regina shall be with me always. You will come to the rescue, Regina, won’t you?

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