upwards.

MRS. ALVING. Well, and then?

OSWALD. At first I thought it was nothing but the ordinary headache
I had been so plagued with while I was growing up--

MRS. ALVING. Yes, yes--

OSWALD. But it wasn't that. I soon found that out. I couldn't work
any more. I wanted to begin upon a big new picture, but my powers
seemed to fail me; all my strength was crippled; I could form no
definite images; everything swam before me--whirling round and
round. Oh, it was an awful state! At last I sent for a doctor--and
from him I learned the truth.

MRS. ALVING. How do you mean?

OSWALD. He was one of the first doctors in Paris. I told him my
symptoms; and then he set to work asking me a string of questions
which I thought had nothing to do with the matter. I couldn't
imagine what the man was after--

MRS. ALVING. Well?

OSWALD. At last he said: "There has been something worm-eaten in
you from your birth." He used that very word--_vermoulu_.

MRS. ALVING. [Breathlessly.] What did he mean by that?