The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 07 (of 11)Ibsen, Henrik
General
The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 07 (of 11)
Ibsen, Henrik
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Translations into English; Norwegian drama -- Translations into English
Ah, that melancholy weakness! But he is often driven to it by his
injured leg, he says. Last time he was in town I was really touched by
him. He came and thanked me so warmly for having got him work here, so
that he might be near Regina.
MRS. ALVING.
He doesn’t see much of _her_.
MANDERS.
Oh, yes; he has a talk with her every day. He told me so himself.
MRS. ALVING.
Well, it may be so.
MANDERS.
He feels so acutely that he needs some one to keep a firm hold on him
when temptation comes. That is what I cannot help liking about Jacob
Engstrand: he comes to you so helplessly, accusing himself and
confessing his own weakness. The last time he was talking to me——Believe
me, Mrs. Alving, supposing it were a real necessity for him to have
Regina home again——
MRS. ALVING.
[_Rising hastily._] Regina!
MANDERS.
——you must not set yourself against it.
MRS. ALVING.
Indeed I _shall_ set myself against it. And besides—Regina is to have a
position in the Orphanage.
MANDERS.
But, after all, remember he is her father——
MRS. ALVING.
Oh, I know very well what sort of a father he has been to her. No! She
shall never go to him with _my_ goodwill.
MANDERS.
[_Rising._] My dear lady, don’t take the matter so warmly. You sadly
misjudge poor Engstrand. You seem to be quite terrified——
MRS. ALVING.
[_More quietly._] It makes no difference. I have taken Regina into my
house, and there she shall stay. [_Listens._] Hush, my dear Mr. Manders;
say no more about it. [_Her face lights up with gladness._] Listen!
there is Oswald coming downstairs. Now we’ll 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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