about it; and since I've come home--

MRS. ALVING. [Seizes him by the arm.] Oswald, what is the matter?

OSWALD. Both yesterday and to-day I have tried to put the thoughts
away from me--to cast them off; but it's no use.

MRS. ALVING. [Rising.] Now you must tell me everything, Oswald!

OSWALD. [Draws her down to the sofa again.] Sit still; and then I
will try to tell you.--I complained of fatigue after my journey--

MRS. ALVING. Well? What then?

OSWALD. But it isn't that that is the matter with me; not any
ordinary fatigue--

MRS. ALVING. [Tries to jump up.] You are not ill, Oswald?

OSWALD. [Draws her down again.] Sit still, mother. Do take it
quietly. I'm not downright ill, either; not what is commonly called
"ill." [Clasps his hands above his head.] Mother, my mind is broken
down--ruined--I shall never be able to work again! [With his hands
before his face, he buries his head in her lap, and breaks into
bitter sobbing.]

MRS. ALVING. [White and trembling.] Oswald! Look at me! No, no;
it's not true.

OSWALD. [Looks up with despair in his eyes.] Never to be able to