Mother. You are a harlot--that's what I know!

Christine. That word I do not understand.

Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master
Olof was talking that evening in the beer-shop.

Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very
happy.

Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your
presence shames me!

Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap
abuse on me!

Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's
house, the threshold of which you have defiled.

Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to
receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess
what language you would use.

Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave!

Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house
in order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son,
and raised him--that was your duty, your mission, and you may
thank your God for being permitted to fill that mission so well,
which is a good fortune not granted to everybody. Now you have