Manders.
Now you are making fun of me. Ah, you're naturally in great spirits to-day—what with to-morrow's festival and Oswald's return.
Mrs. Alving.
Yes; you can think what a delight it is to me! It's more than two years since he was home last. And now he has promised to stay with me all the winter.
Manders.
Has he really? That is very nice and dutiful of him. For I can well believe that life in Rome and Paris has very different attractions from any we can offer here.
Mrs. Alving.
Ah, but here he has his mother, you see. My own darling boy—he hasn't forgotten his old mother!
Manders.
It would be grievous indeed, if absence and absorption in art and that sort of thing were to blunt his natural feelings.
Mrs. Alving.
Yes, you may well say so. But there's nothing of that sort to fear with him. I'm quite curious to see whether you know him again. He'll be down presently; he's upstairs just now, resting a little on the sofa. But do sit down, my dear Pastor.
Manders
Thank you. Are you quite at liberty?
