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Ghosts, A Domestic Tragedy
Henrik Ibsen

Page 180 of 180

stupidly.  MRS.  ALVING is trembling with terror.) What is it!
(Screams.) Oswald! What is the matter with you! (Throws herself
on her knees beside him and shakes him.) Oswald! Oswald! Look at
me! Don't you know me! 

Oswald (in an expressionless voice, as before).  The sun--the sun. 

Mrs.  Alving (jumps up despairingly, beats her head with her
hands, and screams).  I can't bear it! (Whispers as though
paralysed with fear.) I can't bear it...  I Never! (Suddenly.) Where
has he got it? (Passes her hand quickly over his coat.) Here!
(Draws back a little spay and cries :) No, no, no!--Yes!--no, no!
(She stands a few steps from him, her hands thrust into her hair,
and stares at him in speechless terror.) 

Oswald (sitting motionless, as before).  The sun--the sun. 


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