[Seems to shrink together in 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.