Mrs. Alving. No, no, my darling boy; that is impossible! (Bending
over him.) Things are not so desperate as you think.

Oswald. Ah, you don't know--(Springs up.) And to think, mother,
that I should bring all this sorrow upon you! Many a time I have
almost wished and hoped that you really did not care so very much
for me.

Mrs. Alving. I, Oswald? My only son! All that I have in the
world! The only thing I care about!

Oswald (taking hold of her hands and kissing them). Yes, yes, I
know that is so. When I am at home I know that is true. And that
is one of the hardest parts of it to me. But now you know all
about it; and now we won't talk anymore about it today. I can't
stand thinking about it long at a time. (Walks across the room.)
Let me have something to drink, mother!

Mrs. Alving. To drink? What do you want?

Oswald. Oh, anything you like. I suppose you have got some punch
in the house.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, but my dear Oswald--!

Oswald. Don't tell me I mustn't, mother. Do be nice! I must have
something to drown these gnawing thoughts. (Goes into the
conservatory.) And how--how gloomy it is here! (MRS. ALVING rings
the bell.) And this incessant rain. It may go on week after week-