MRS. ALVING. Oswald, have you not your mother to come to the
rescue?

OSWALD. You? [Smiles.] No, mother; that rescue you will never bring
me. [Laughs sadly.] You! ha ha! [Looks earnestly at her.] Though,
after all, who ought to do it if not you? [Impetuously.] Why can't
you say "thou" to me, Regina? [Note: "Sige du" = Fr. _tutoyer_] Why
do'n't you call me "Oswald"?

REGINA. [Softly.] I don't think Mrs. Alving would like it.

MRS. ALVING. You shall have leave to, presently. And meanwhile sit
over here beside us.

[REGINA seats herself demurely and hesitatingly at the other side
of the table.]

MRS. ALVING. And now, my poor suffering boy, I am going to take the
burden off your mind--

OSWALD. You, mother?

MRS. ALVING. --all the gnawing remorse and self-reproach you speak of.

OSWALD. And you think you can do that?

MRS. ALVING. Yes, now I can, Oswald. A little while ago you spoke
of the joy of life; and at that word a new light burst for me over
my life and everything connected with it.