Mrs. Alving. Indeed, I set myself very definitely against that. And, besides, you know Regina is to have a post in the Orphanage. 

 Manders. But consider, after all he is her father— 

 Mrs. Alving. I know best what sort of a father he has been to her. No, she shall never go to him with my consent. 

 Manders (getting up). My dear lady, don't judge so hastily. It is very sad how you misjudge poor Engstrand. One would really think you were afraid... 

 Mrs. Alving (more calmly). That is not the question. I have taken Regina into my charge, and in my charge she remains. (Listens.) Hush, dear Mr. Manders, don't say any more about it. (Her face brightens with pleasure.) Listen! Oswald is coming downstairs. We will only think about him now. 

 (OSWALD ALVING, in a light overcoat, hat in hand and smoking a big meerschaum pipe, comes in by the door on the left.) 

 Oswald (standing in the doorway). Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought you were in the office. (Comes in.) Good morning, Mr. Manders. 

 Manders (staring at him). Well! It's most extraordinary. 

 Mrs. Alving. Yes, what do you think of him, Mr. Manders? 

 Manders. I-I-no, can it possibly be—? 

 Oswald. Yes, it really is the prodigal son, Mr. Manders. 

 Manders. Oh, my dear young friend— 

 Oswald. Well, the son came home, then. 

 Mrs. Alving. Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so opposed to the idea of his being a painter. 

 Manders. We are only fallible, and many steps seem to us hazardous at first, that afterwards—(grasps his hand). Welcome, welcome! Really, my dear Oswald—may I still call you Oswald? 

 Oswald. What else would you think of calling me? 

 Manders. Thank you. What I mean, my dear Oswald, is that you must not imagine that I have any unqualified disapproval of the artist's life. I admit that there are many who, even in that career, can keep the inner 

 Prev. P 17/70 next