think of no one but him. 
[OSWALD ALVING, in a light overcoat, hat in hand, and smoking a large meerschaum, enters by the door on the left; he stops in the doorway.] 
OSWALD. Oh, I beg your pardon; I thought you were in the study. [Comes forward.] Good-morning, Pastor Manders. 
MANDERS. [Staring.] Ah--! How strange--! 
MRS. ALVING. Well now, what do you think of him, Mr. Manders? 
MANDERS. I--I--can it really be--? 
OSWALD. Yes, it's really the Prodigal Son, sir. 
MANDERS. [Protesting.] My dear young friend-- 
OSWALD. Well, then, the Lost Sheep Found. 
MRS. ALVING. Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so much opposed to his becoming a painter. 
MANDERS. To our human eyes many a step seems dubious, which afterwards proves--[Wrings his hand.] But first of all, welcome, welcome home! Do not think, my dear Oswald--I suppose I may call you by your Christian name? 
OSWALD. What else should you call me? 
MANDERS. Very good. What I wanted to say was this, my dear Oswald you must not think that I utterly condemn the artist's calling. I have no doubt there are many who can keep their inner self unharmed in that profession, as in any other. 
OSWALD. Let us hope so. 
MRS. ALVING. [Beaming with delight.] I know one who has kept both his inner and his outer self unharmed. Just look at him, Mr. Manders. 
OSWALD. [Moves restlessly about the room.] Yes, yes, my dear mother; let's say no more about it. 
MANDERS. Why, certainly--that is undeniable. And you have begun to make a name for yourself already. The newspapers have often spoken of you, most favourably. Just lately, by-the-bye, I fancy I haven't seen your name quite so often. 
OSWALD. [Up in the conservatory.] I haven't been able to paint so much lately. 
MRS. ALVING. Even a painter needs a little rest now and then. 
MANDERS. No doubt, no doubt. And meanwhile he can be preparing himself and mustering his forces for some great work. 
OSWALD. Yes.--Mother, will dinner soon be ready? 
MRS. ALVING. In less than half an hour. He has a capital appetite, thank God. 
MANDERS. And a taste for tobacco, too. 
OSWALD. I found my father's pipe in my room-- 
MANDERS. Aha--then that accounts for it! 
MRS. ALVING. For what? 
MANDERS. When Oswald appeared there, in the doorway, with the pipe in his mouth, I could have sworn I saw his father, large as life. 
OSWALD. No, really? 
MRS. ALVING. Oh, how can you say so? Oswald takes after me. 
MANDERS. Yes, but there is an expression about the corners of the mouth--something about the lips--that reminds one exactly of Alving: at any rate, now that he is smoking. 
MRS. ALVING. Not in the least. Oswald has rather a clerical curve about his mouth, I think. 
MANDERS. Yes, yes; some of my colleagues have much the same expression. 

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