OSWALD. It's a settled thing. Can't you see that? It's no use
saying anything against it.

[REGINA enters with an empty glass, which she keeps in her hand.]

OSWALD. Sit down, Regina.

[REGINA looks inquiringly at MRS. ALVING.]

MRS. ALVING. Sit down. [REGINA sits on a chair by the dining room
door, still holding the empty glass in her hand.] Oswald--what were
you saying about the joy of life?

OSWALD. Ah, the joy of life, mother--that's a thing you don't know
much about in these parts. I have never felt it here.

MRS. ALVING. Not when you are with me?

OSWALD. Not when I'm at home. But you don't understand that.

MRS. ALVING. Yes, yes; I think I almost understand it--now.

OSWALD. And then, too, the joy of work! At bottom, it's the same
thing. But that, too, you know nothing about.

MRS. ALVING. Perhaps you are right. Tell me more about it, Oswald.

OSWALD. I only mean that here people are brought up to believe that
work is a curse and a punishment for sin, and that life is
something miserable, something; it would be best to have done with,