Mrs. Alving.
[Who has opened the parcel.] Yes, I thought so. Here is the Ceremonial Ode, Pastor Manders.
Manders.
[With folded hands.] With what countenance I am to deliver my discourse to-morrow!
Mrs. Alving.
Oh, you will get through it somehow.
Manders.
[Softly, so as not to be heard in the dining-room.] Yes; it would not do to provoke scandal.
Mrs. Alving.
[Under her breath, but firmly.] No. But then this long, hateful comedy will be ended. From the day after to-morrow, I shall act in every way as though he who is dead had never lived in this house. There shall be no one here but my boy and his mother.
[From the dining-room comes the noise of a chair overturned, and at the same moment is heard:
Regina.
[Sharply, but in a whisper.] Oswald! take care! are you mad? Let me go!
Mrs. Alving.
[Starts in terror.] Ah!
[She stares wildly towards the half-open door. Oswald is heard laughing and humming. A bottle is uncorked.
Manders.
[Agitated.] What can be the matter? What is it, Mrs. Alving?
