Ghosts by Henrik Ibsen (best novels of all time .TXT) 📕

boy! Oswald I’ve scraped together twelve pilules⁠— Mrs. Alving Snatches at it. Give me the box, Oswald. Oswald Not yet, Mother. He hides the box again in his pocket. Mrs. Alving I shall never survive this! Oswald It must be survived. Now if I’d had Regina here, I should have told her how things stood with me⁠—and begged her to come to the rescue at the last. She would have done it. I know she would. Mrs. Alving Never! Oswald When the horror had come upon me, and she saw me lying there helpless, like a little newborn baby, impotent, lost, hopeless⁠—past all saving⁠— Mrs. Alving Never in all the world would Regina have done this! Oswald Regina would have done it. Regina was so splendidly lighthearted. And she would soon have wearied of nursing an invalid like me. Mrs. Alving Then heaven be praised that Regina is not here. Oswald Well then, it is you that must come to the rescue, Mother. Mrs. Alving Shrieks aloud. I! Oswald Who should do it if not you? Mrs. Alving I! your mother! Oswald For that very reason. Mrs. Alving I, who gave you life! Oswald I never asked you for life. And what sort of a life have you given me? I will not have it! You shall take it back again! Mrs. Alving Help! Help! She runs out into the hall. Oswald Going after her. Do not leave me! Where are you going? Mrs. Alving In the hall. To fetch the doctor, Oswald! Let me pass! Oswald Also outside. You shall not go out. And no one shall come in. The locking of a door is heard. Mrs. Alving Comes in again. Oswald! Oswald⁠—my child! Oswald Follows her. Have you a mother’s heart for me⁠—and yet can see me suffer from this unutterable dread? Mrs. Alving After a moment’s silence, commands herself, and says: Here is my hand upon it. Oswald Will you⁠—? Mrs. Alving If it should ever be necessary. But it will never be necessary. No, no; it is impossible. Oswald Well, let us hope so. And let us live together as long as we can. Thank you, Mother. He seats himself in the armchair which Mrs. Alving has moved to the sofa. Day is breaking. The lamp is still burning on the table. Mrs. Alving Drawing near cautiously. Do you feel calm now? Oswald Yes. Mrs. Alving Bending over him. It has been a dreadful fancy of yours, Oswald⁠—nothing but a fancy. All this excitement has been too much for you. But now you shall have a long rest; at home with your mother, my own blessëd boy. Everything you point to you shall have, just as when you were a little child.⁠—There now. The crisis is over. You see how easily it passed! Oh, I was sure it would.⁠—And do you see, Oswald, what a lovely day we are going to have? Brilliant sunshine! Now you can really see your home. She goes to the table and puts out the lamp. Sunrise. The glacier and the snow-peaks in the background glow in the morning light. Oswald Sits in the armchair with his back towards the landscape, without moving. Suddenly he says: Mother, give me the sun. Mrs. Alving By the table, starts and looks at him. What do you say? Oswald Repeats, in a dull, toneless voice. The sun. The sun. Mrs. Alving Goes to him. Oswald, what is the matter with you? Oswald Seems to shrink together to the chair; all his muscles relax; his face is expressionless, his eyes have a glassy stare. Mrs. Alving Quivering with terror. What is this? Shrieks. Oswald! what is the matter with you? Falls on her knees beside him and shakes him. Oswald! Oswald! look at me! Don’t you know me? Oswald Tonelessly as before. The sun.⁠—The sun. Mrs. Alving Springs up in despair, entwines her hands in her hair and shrieks. I cannot bear it! Whispers, as though petrified. I cannot bear it! Never! Suddenly. Where has he got them? Fumbles hastily in his breast. Here! Shrinks back a few steps and screams: No! No; no!⁠—Yes!⁠—No; no! She stands a few steps away from him with her hands twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless horror. Oswald Sits motionless as before and says. The sun.⁠—The sun. Endnotes

See “The Mausoleum of Ibsen,” Fortnightly Review, August 1893. See also Mr. Bernard Shaw’s Quintessence of Ibsenism, p. 89, and my introduction to Ghosts in the single-volume edition. ↩

Chamberlain (Kammerherre) is the only title of honour now existing in Norway. It is a distinction conferred by the King on men of wealth and position, and is not hereditary. ↩

This and other French words by Regina are in that language in the original. ↩

A phrase equivalent to the German Prosit die Mahlzeit⁠—“May good digestion wait on appetite.” ↩

“Sige du” = Fr. tutoyer ↩

Colophon

Ghosts
was published in 1881 by
Henrik Ibsen.
It was translated from Norwegian in 1911 by William Archer.

This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
B. Timothy Keith,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2005 by
Nicole Apostola and David Widger
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans available at the
Internet Archive.

The cover page is adapted from
Interiors,
a painting completed in 1898 by
Vilhelm Hammershøi.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
typefaces created in 2014 and 2009 by
The League of Moveable Type.

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