Mrs. Alving. Yes, yes, I promise—only tell me what it is.
Oswald. Well, then, you must know that this fatigue of mine—and my mot being able to think about my work—all that is not really the illness itself—
Mrs. Alving. What is the illness itself?
Oswald. What I am suffering from is hereditary; it—(touches his forehead, and speaks very quietly)—it lies here.
Mrs. Alving (almost speechless). Oswald! No—no!
Oswald. Don't scream; I can't stand it. Yes, I tell you, it lies here, waiting. And any time, any moment, it may break out.
Mrs. Alving. How horrible—!
Oswald. Do keep quiet. That is the state I am in—
Mrs. Alving (springing up). It isn't true, Oswald! It is impossible! It can't be that!
Oswald. I had one attack while I was abroad. It passed off quickly. But when I learned the condition I had been in, then this dreadful haunting fear took possession of me.