Ghosts, Henrik Ibsen [books to read for 13 year olds .txt] 📗

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 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 by, 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. Mrs. Alving But put your pipe away, my dear boy; I won’t have smoking in here. Oswald Does so. By all means. I only wanted to try it; for I once smoked it when I was a child. Mrs. Alving You? Oswald Yes. I was quite small at the time. I recollect I came up to father’s room one evening when he was in great spirits. Mrs. Alving Oh, you can’t recollect anything of those times. Oswald Yes, I recollect it distinctly. He took me on his knee, and gave me the pipe. “Smoke, boy,” he said; “smoke away, boy!” And I smoked as hard as I could, until I felt I was growing quite pale, and the perspiration stood in great drops on my forehead. Then he burst out laughing heartily⁠— Manders That was most extraordinary. Mrs. Alving My dear friend, it’s only something Oswald has dreamt. Oswald No, Mother, I assure you I didn’t dream it. For⁠—don’t you remember this?⁠—you came and carried me out into the nursery. Then I was sick, and I saw that you were crying.⁠—Did father often play such practical jokes? Manders In his youth he overflowed with the joy of life⁠— Oswald And yet he managed to do so much in the world; so much that was good and useful; although he died so early. Manders Yes, you have inherited the name of an energetic and admirable man, my dear Oswald Alving. No doubt it will be an incentive to you⁠— Oswald It ought to, indeed. Manders It was good of you to come home for the ceremony in his honour. Oswald I could do no less for my father. Mrs. Alving And I am to keep him so long! That is the best of all. Manders You are going to pass the winter at home, I hear. Oswald My stay is indefinite, sir. But, ah! it is good to be at home! Mrs. Alving Beaming. Yes, isn’t it, dear? Manders Looking sympathetically at him. You went out into the world early, my dear Oswald. Oswald I did. I sometimes wonder whether it wasn’t too early. Mrs. Alving Oh, not at all. A healthy lad is all the better for it; especially when he’s an only child. He oughtn’t to hang on at home with his mother and father, and get spoilt. Manders That is a very disputable point, Mrs. Alving. A child’s proper place is, and must be, the home of his fathers. Oswald There I quite agree with you, Pastor Manders. Manders Only look at your own son⁠—there is no reason why we should not say it in his presence⁠—what has the consequence been for him? He is six or seven and twenty, and has never had the opportunity of learning what a well-ordered home really is. Oswald I beg your pardon, Pastor; there you’re quite mistaken. Manders Indeed? I thought you had lived almost exclusively in