Mrs. Alving (glancing at MANDERS). The ode to be sung tomorrow, I expect. 

 Manders. Hm—! 

 Regina. And dinner is ready. 

 Mrs. Alving. Good. We will come in a moment. I will just—(begins to open the parcel). 

 Regina (to OSWALD). Will you drink white or red wine, sir? 

 Oswald. Both, Miss Engstrand. 

 Regina. Bien—very good, Mr. Alving. (Goes into the dining-room.) 

 Oswald. I may as well help you to uncork it—. (Follows her into the dining-room, leaving the door ajar after him.) 

 Mrs. Alving. Yes, I thought so. Here is the ode, Mr Manders. 

 Manders (clasping his hands). How shall I ever have the courage tomorrow to speak the address that— 

 Mrs. Alving. Oh, you will get through it. 

 Manders (in a low voice, fearing to be heard in the dining room). Yes, we must raise no suspicions. 

 Mrs. Alving (quietly but firmly). No; and then this long dreadful comedy will be at an end. After tomorrow, I shall feel as if my dead husband had never lived in this house. There will be no one else here then but my boy and his mother. 

 (From the dining-room is heard the noise of a chair falling; then REGINA'S voice is heard in a loud whisper: Oswald! Are you mad? Let me go!) 

 Mrs. Alving (starting in horror). Oh—! 

 (She stares wildly at the half-open door. OSWALD is heard coughing and humming, then the sound of a bottle being uncorked.) 

 Manders (in an agitated manner). What's the matter? What is it, Mrs. Alving? 

 Mrs. Alving (hoarsely). Ghosts. The couple in the conservatory—over again. 

 Manders. What are you saying! Regina—? Is SHE—! 

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