t out of her that she had taken the thing
seriously, and had been thinking about me all the time, and had set
herself to learn French--

Mrs. Alving. So that was why--

Oswald. Mother--when I saw this fine, splendid, handsome girl standing
there in front of me--I had never paid any attention to her before
then--but now, when she stood there as if with open arms ready for me
to take her to myself--

Mrs. Alving. Oswald!

Oswald. --then I realised that my salvation lay in her, for I saw the
joy of life in her!

Mrs. Alving (starting back). The joy of life--? Is there salvation in
that?

Regina (coming in from the dining-room with a bottle of champagne).
Excuse me for being so long; but I had to go to the cellar. (Puts the
bottle down on the table.)

Oswald. Bring another glass, too.

Regina (looking at him in astonishment). The mistress's glass is there,
sir.

Oswald. Yes, but fetch one for yourself, Regina (REGINA starts, and
gives a quick shy glance at MRS. ALVING.) Well?

Regina (in a low and hesitating voice). Do you wish me to, ma'am?

Mrs. Alving. Fetch the glass, Regina. (REGINA goes into the
dining-room.)

Oswald (looking after her). Have you noticed how well she walks?--so
firmly and confidently!

Mrs. Alving. It cannot be, Oswald.

Oswald. It is settled. You must see that. It is no use forbidding it.
(REGINA comes in with a glass, which she holds in her hand.) Sit down,
Regina. (REGINA looks questioningly at MRS. ALVING.)

Mrs. Alving. Sit down. (REGINA sits down on a chair near the
dining-room door, still holding the glass in her hand.) Oswald, what
was it you were saying about the joy of life?

Oswald. Ah, mother--the joy of life! You don't know very much about
that at home here. I shall never realise it here.

Mrs. Alving. Not even when you are with me?

Oswald. Never at home. But you can't understand that.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, indeed I almost think I do understand you now.

Oswald. That--and the joy of work. They are really the same thing at
bottom. Put you don't know anything about that either.

Mrs. Alving. Perhaps you are right. Tell me some more about it, Oswald.

Oswald. Well, all I mean is that here people are brought up to believe
that work is a curse and a punishment for sin, and that life is a state
of wretchedness and that the sooner we can get out of it the better.

Mrs. Alving. A vale of tears, yes. And we quite conscientiously make
it so.

Oswald. But the people o