Mrs. Alving.
Well now, what do you think of him, Mr. Manders?
Manders. I—I—can it really be?
Oswald. Yes, it's really the Prodigal Son, sir.
Manders. [Protesting.] My dear young friend
Oswald. Well, then, the Lost Sheep Found.
Mrs. Alving.
Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so much opposed to his becoming a painter.
Manders.
To our human eyes many a step seems dubious, which afterwards proves [Wrings his hand.]
But first of all, welcome, welcome home! Do not think, my dear Oswald—I suppose I may call you by your Christian name?
Oswald. What else should you call me?
Manders.
Very good. What I wanted to say was this, my dear Oswald—you must not think that I utterly condemn the artist's calling. I have no doubt there are many who can keep their inner self unharmed in that profession, as in any other.
