REGINA. Yes, ma'am. It's ready lighted. [Goes out.]

MRS. ALVING. [Goes across to OSWALD.] Oswald, be frank with me.

OSWALD. Well, so I am, mother. [Goes to the table.] I think I have told you enough.

[REGINA brings the lamp and sets it upon the table.]

MRS. ALVING. Regina, you may bring us a small bottle of champagne.

REGINA. Very well, ma'am. [Goes out.]

OSWALD. [Puts his arm round MRS. ALVING's neck.] That's just what I wanted. I knew mother wouldn't let her boy go thirsty.

MRS. ALVING. My own, poor, darling Oswald; how could I deny you anything now?

OSWALD. [Eagerly.] Is that true, mother? Do you mean it?

MRS. ALVING. How? What?

OSWALD. That you couldn't deny me anything.

MRS. ALVING. My dear Oswald--

OSWALD. Hush!

REGINA. [Brings a tray with a half-bottle of champagne and two glasses, which she sets on the table.] Shall I open it?

OSWALD. No, thanks. I will do it myself.

[REGINA goes out again.]

MRS. ALVING. [Sits down by the table.] What was it you meant--that I mustn't deny you?

OSWALD. [Busy opening the bottle.] First let us have a glass--or two.

[The cork pops; he pours wine into one glass, and is about to pour it into the other.]

MRS. ALVING. [Holding her hand over it.] Thanks; not for me.

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