Oswald.
Well, you must know that all this fatigue—and my inability to think of work—all that is not the illness itself——
Mrs. Alving.
Then what is the illness itself?
Oswald.
The disease I have as my birthright—[He points to his forehead and adds very softly]—is seated here.
Mrs. Alving.
[Almost voiceless.] Oswald! No—no!
Oswald.
Don’t scream. I can’t bear it. Yes, mother, it is seated here—waiting. And it may break out any day—at any moment.