fallen woman! 

 Mrs. Alving. What about myself, then?—I let myself be bound in marriage to a fallen man. 

 Manders. Heaven forgive you! What are you saying? A fallen man? 

 Mrs. Alving. Do you suppose my husband was any purer, when I went with him to the altar, than Joanna was when Engstrand agreed to marry her? 

 Manders. The two cases are as different as day from night. 

 Mrs. Alving. Not so very different, after all. It is true there was a great difference in the price paid, between a paltry seventy pounds and a whole fortune. 

 Manders. How can you compare such totally different things! I presume you consulted your own heart—and your relations. 

 Mrs. Alving (looking away from him). I thought you understood where what you call my heart had strayed to at that time. 

 Manders (in a constrained voice). If I had understood anything of the kind, I would not have been a daily guest in your husband's house. 

 Mrs. Alving. Well, at any rate this much is certain—I didn't consult myself in the matter at all. 

 Manders. Still you consulted those nearest to you, as was only right—your mother, your two aunts. 

 Mrs. Alving. Yes, that is true. The three of them settled the whole matter for me. It seems incredible to me now, how clearly they made out that it would be sheer folly to reject such an offer. If my mother could only see what all that fine prospect has led to! 

 Manders. No one can be responsible for the result of it. Anyway there is this to be said, that the match was made in complete conformity with law and order. 

 Mrs. Alving (going to the window). Oh, law and order! I often think it is that that is at the bottom of all the misery in the world. 

 Manders. Mrs. Alving, it is very wicked of you to say that. 

 Mrs. Alving. That may be so; but I don't attach importance to those obligations and considerations any longer. I cannot! I must struggle for my freedom. 

 Manders. What do you mean? 

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