Oswald. Everything will be burned up; nothing will be left that is in memory of my father. Here am I being burned up, too.
(REGINA looks at him in alarm.)
Mrs. Alving. Oswald! You should not have stayed so long over there, my poor boy.
Oswald (sitting down at the table). I almost believe you are right.
Mrs. Alving. Let me dry your face, Oswald; you are all wet. (Wipes his face with her handkerchief.)
Oswald (looking straight before him, with no expression in his eyes). Thank you, mother.
Mrs. Alving. And aren't you tired, Oswald? Don't you want to go to sleep?
Oswald (uneasily). No, no—not to sleep! I never sleep; I only pretend to. (Gloomily.) That will come soon enough.
Mrs. Alving (looking at him anxiously). Anyhow you are really ill, my darling boy.
Regina (intently). Is Mr. Alving ill?