and she wasn't a bit handsomer than you.

REGINA. [Making for him.] Out you go!

ENGSTRAND. [Falling back.] Come, come! You're not going to hit me,
I hope.

REGINA. Yes, if you begin talking about mother I shall hit you. Get
away with you, I say! [Drives him back towards the garden door.]
And don't slam the doors. Young Mr. Alving--

ENGSTRAND. He's asleep; I know. You're mightily taken up about
young Mr. Alving--[More softly.] Oho! you don't mean to say it's
him as--?

REGINA. Be off this minute! You're crazy, I tell you! No, not that
way. There comes Pastor Manders. Down the kitchen stairs with you.

ENGSTRAND. [Towards the right.] Yes, yes, I'm going. But just you
talk to him as is coming there. He's the man to tell you what a
child owes its father. For I am your father all the same, you know.
I can prove it from the church register.

[He goes out through the second door to the right, which REGINA
has opened, and closes again after him. REGINA glances hastily at
herself in the mirror, dusts herself with her pocket handkerchief;
and settles her necktie; then she busies herself with the flowers.]

[PASTOR MANDERS, wearing an overcoat, carrying an umbrella, and
with a small travelling-bag on a strap over his shoulder, comes