your mother, my own blessed boy. Everything you point to you shall
have, just as when you were a little child.--There now. The crisis
is over. You see how easily it passed! Oh, I was sure it would.--
And do you see, Oswald, what a lovely day we are going to have?
Brilliant sunshine! Now you can really see your home. [She goes to
the table and puts out the lamp. Sunrise. The glacier and the
snow-peaks in the background glow in the morning light.]

OSWALD. [Sits in the arm-chair with his back towards the landscape,
without moving. Suddenly he says:] Mother, give me the sun.

MRS. ALVING. [By the table, starts and looks at him.] What do you
say?

OSWALD. [Repeats, in a dull, toneless voice.] The sun. The sun.

MRS. ALVING. [Goes to him.] Oswald, what is the matter with you?

OSWALD. [Seems to shrink together to the chair; all his muscles
relax; his face is expressionless, his eyes have a glassy stare.]

MRS. ALVING. [Quivering with terror.] What is this? [Shrieks.]
Oswald! what is the matter with you? [Falls on her knees beside him
and shakes him.] Oswald! Oswald! look at me! Don't you know me?

OSWALD. [Tonelessly as before.] The sun.--The sun.

MRS. ALVING. [Springs up in despair, entwines her hands in her
hair and shrieks.] I cannot bear it! [Whispers, as though
petrified]; I cannot bear it! Never! [Suddenly.] Where has he got