man free from harm. 

 Oswald. Let us hope so. 

 Mrs. Alving (beaming with pleasure). I know one who has kept both the inner and the outer man free from harm. Just take a look at him, Mr. Manders. 

 Oswald (walks across the room). Yes, yes, mother dear, of course. 

 Manders. Undoubtedly—no one can deny it. And I hear you have begun to make a name for yourself. I have often seen mention of you in the papers—and extremely favourable mention, too. Although, I must admit, lately I have not seen your name so often. 

 Oswald (going towards the conservatory). I haven't done so much painting just lately. 

 Mrs. Alving. An artist must take a rest sometimes, like other people. 

 Manders. Of course, of course. At those times the artist is preparing and strengthening himself for a greater effort. 

 Oswald. Yes. Mother, will dinner soon be ready? 

 Mrs. Alving. In half an hour. He has a fine appetite, thank goodness. 

 Manders. And a liking for tobacco too. 

 Oswald. I found father's pipe in the room upstairs, and— 

 Manders. Ah, that is what it was! 

 Mrs. Alving. What? 

 Manders. When Oswald came in at that door with the pipe in his mouth, I thought for the moment it was his father in the flesh. 

 Oswald. Really? 

 Mrs. Alving. How can you say so! Oswald takes after me. 

 Manders. Yes, but there is an expression about the corners of his mouth—something about the lips—that reminds me so exactly of Mr. Alving—especially when he smokes. 

 Mrs. Alving. I don't think so at all. To my mind, Oswald has much more of a clergyman's mouth. 

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