Mrs. Alving. —and I would have told him all I have told you, from beginning to end.
Manders. I am almost shocked at you, Mrs. Alving.
Mrs. Alving. I know. I know quite well! I am shocked at myself when I think of it. (Comes away from the window.) I am coward enough for that.
Manders. Can you call it cowardice that you simply did your duty? Have you forgotten that a child should love and honour his father and mother?
Mrs. Alving. Don't let us talk in such general terms. Suppose we say: "Ought Oswald to love and honour Mr. Alving?"
Manders. You are a mother—isn't there a voice in your heart that forbids you to shatter your son's ideals?
Mrs. Alving. And what about the truth?
Manders. What about his ideals?
Mrs. Alving. Oh—ideals, ideals! If only I were not such a coward as I am!
Manders. Do not spurn ideals, Mrs. Alving—they have a way of avenging themselves cruelly. Take Oswald's own case, now. He hasn't many ideals, more's the pity. But this much I have seen, that his father is something of an ideal to him.