MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looks at her in surprise._] You don’t suppose I ever have anything to
do with him? That I ever meet him? That I see anything of him?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not even that!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_As before._] The man who was in gaol, in gaol for five years! [_Covers
her face with her_ _hands._] Oh, the crushing shame of it! [_With
increased vehemence._] And then to think of all that the name of John
Gabriel Borkman used to mean! No, no, no—I can never see him again!
Never!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looks at her for a while._] You have a hard heart, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Towards _him_, yes.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
After all, he is your husband.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Did he not say in court that it was I who began his ruin? That I spent
money so recklessly?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Tentatively._] But is there not some truth in that?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Why, it was he himself that made me do it! He insisted on our living in
such an absurdly lavish style——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I know. But that is just where you should have restrained him; and
apparently you didn’t.
MRS. BORKMAN.
How was I to know that it was not his own money he gave me to squander?
And that he himself used to squander, too—ten times more than I did!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Quietly._] Well, I daresay his position forced him to do that—to some
extent at any rate.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Scornfully._] Yes, it was always the same story—we were to “cut a
figure.” And he did “cut a figure” to some purpose! He used to drive
about with a four-in-hand as if he were a king. And he had people bowing
and scraping to him just as to a king. [_With a laugh._] And they always
called him by his Christian names—all the country over—as if he had been
the king himself. “John Gabriel,” “John Gabriel.” Every one knew what a
great man “John Gabriel” was!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Warmly and emphatically._] He was a great man then.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, to all appearance. But he never breathed a single word to me as to
his real position—never gave a hint as to where he got his means from.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, no; and other people did not dream of it either.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I don’t care about the other people. But it was his duty to tell me the
truth. And that he never did! He kept on lying to me—lying abominably——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Interrupting._] Surely not, Gunhild. He kept things back perhaps, but
I am sure he did not lie.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well; call it what you please; it makes no difference. And then it
all fell to pieces—the whole thing.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_To herself._] Yes, everything fell to pieces—for him—and for others.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Drawing herself up menacingly._] But I tell you this, Ella, I do not
give in yet! I shall redeem myself yet—you may make up your mind to
that!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Eagerly._] Redeem yourself! What do you mean by that?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Redeem my name, and honour, and fortune! Redeem my ruined life—that is
what I mean! I have some one in reserve, let me tell you—one who will
wash away every stain that _he_ has left.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Gunhild! Gunhild!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With rising excitement._] There is an avenger living, I tell you! One
who will make up to me for all his father’s sins!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart you mean.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, Erhart, my own boy! He will redeem the family, the house, the name.
All that can be redeemed.—And perhaps more besides.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And how do you think that is to be done?
MRS. BORKMAN.
It must be done as best it can; I don’t know how. But I know that it
must and shall be done. [_Looks searchingly at her._] Come now, Ella;
isn’t that really what you have had in mind too, ever since he was a
child?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, I can’t exactly say that.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No? Then why did you take charge of him when the storm broke upon—upon
this house?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You could not look after him yourself at that time, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no, I could not. And his father—he had a valid enough excuse—while
he was there—in safe keeping——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Indignant._] Oh, how can you say such things!—You!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a venomous expression._] And how could you make up your mind to
take charge of the child of a—a John Gabriel! Just as if he had been
your own? To take the child away from me—home with you—and keep him
there year after year, until the boy was nearly grown up. [_Looking
suspiciously at her._] What was your real reason, Ella? Why did you keep
him with you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I came to love him so dearly——
MRS. BORKMAN.
More than I—his mother?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Evasively._] I don’t know about that. And then, you know, Erhart was
rather delicate as a child——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart—delicate!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I thought so—at that time at any rate. And you know the air of the
west coast is so much milder than here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Smiling bitterly._] H’m—is it indeed? [_Breaking off._] Yes, it is
true you have done a great deal for Erhart. [_With a change of tone._]
Well, of course, you could afford it. [_Smiling._] You were so lucky,
Ella; you managed to save all your money.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Hurt._] I did not _manage_ anything about it, I assure you. I had no
idea—until long, long afterwards—that the securities belonging to
me—that they had been left untouched.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well; I don’t understand anything about these things! I only say
you were lucky. [_Looking inquiringly at her._] But when you, of your
own accord, undertook to educate Erhart for me—what was your motive in
that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at her._] My motive?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, some motive you must have had. What did you want to do with him? To
make of him, I mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Slowly._] I wanted to smooth the way for Erhart to happiness in life.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Contemptuously._] Pooh—people situated as we are have something else
than happiness to think of.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
What, then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking steadily and earnestly at her._] Erhart has in the first place
to make so brilliant a position for himself, that no trace shall be left
of the shadow his father has cast upon my name—and my son’s.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Searchingly._] Tell me, Gunhild, is _this_ what Erhart himself demands
of his life?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Slightly taken aback._] Yes, I should hope so!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Is it not rather what _you_ demand of him?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Curtly._] Erhart and I always make the same demands upon ourselves.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Sadly and slowly._] You are so very certain of your boy, then,
Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With, veiled triumph._] Yes, that I am—thank Heaven. You may be sure
of that!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then I should think in reality you must be happy after all; in spite of
all the rest.
MRS. BORKMAN.
So I am—so far as that goes. But then, every moment, all the rest comes
rushing in upon me like a storm.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a change of tone._] Tell me—you may as well tell me at once—for
that is really what I have come for——
MRS. BORKMAN.
What?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Something I felt I must talk to you about.—Tell me—Erhart does not live
out here with with—you others?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Harshly._] Erhart _cannot_ live out here with me. He has to live in
town——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he wrote to me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
He must, for the sake of his studies. But he comes out to me for a
little while every evening.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Well, may I see him then? May I speak to him at once?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He has not come yet; but I expect him every moment.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Why, Gunhild, surely he _must_ have come. I can hear his footsteps
overhead.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a rapid upward glance._] Up in the long gallery?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes. I have heard him walking up and down there ever since I came.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking away from her._] That is not Erhart, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Surprised._] Not Erhart? [_Divining._] Who is it then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
It is _he_.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Softly, with suppressed pain._] Borkman? John Gabriel Borkman?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He walks up and down like that—backwards and forwards—from morning to
night—day out and day in.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have heard something of this——
MRS. BORKMAN.
I daresay. People find plenty to say about us, no doubt.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart has spoken of it in his letters. He said that his father
generally remained by himself—up there—and you alone down here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes; that is how it has been, Ella, ever since they let him out, and
sent him home to me. All these long eight years.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I never believed it could really be so. It seemed impossible!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Nods._] It is so; and it can never be otherwise.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at her._] This must be a terrible life, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Worse than terrible—almost unendurable.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it must be.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Always to hear his footsteps up there—from early morning till far into
the night. And everything sounds so clear in this house!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is strange how clear the sound is.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I often feel as if I had a sick wolf pacing his cage up there in the
gallery, right over my head. [_Listens and whispers._] Hark! Do you
hear! Backwards and forwards, up and down, goes the wolf.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Tentatively._] Is no change possible, Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a gesture of repulsion._] He has never made any movement towards
a change.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Could you not make the first movement, then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Indignantly._] I! After all the wrong he has done me! No, thank you!
Rather let the wolf go on prowling up there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
This room is too hot for me. You must let me take off my things after
all.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I asked you to.
[_ELLA RENTHEIM takes off her hat and cloak and lays them on a chair
beside the door leading to the hall._
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you never happen to meet him, away from home?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a bitter laugh._] In society, do you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I mean, when he goes out walking. In the woods, or——
MRS. BORKMAN.
He never goes out.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not even in the twilight?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Never.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With emotion._] He cannot bring himself to go out?
MRS. BORKMAN.
I suppose not. He has his great cloak and his hat hanging in the
cupboard—the cupboard in the hall you know——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_To herself._] The cupboard we used to hide in when we were little——
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Nods._] And now and then—late in the evening—I can hear him come down
as though to go out. But he always stops when he is halfway downstairs,
and turns back—straight back to the gallery.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Quietly._] Do none of his old friends ever come up to see him?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He _has_ no old friends.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
He had so many—once.
MRS. BORKMAN.
H’m! He took the best possible way to get rid of them. He was a _dear_
friend to his friends, was John Gabriel.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh yes, that is true, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Vehemently._] All the same, I call it mean, petty, base, contemptible
of them, to think so much of the paltry losses they may have suffered
through him. They were only money losses, nothing more.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Not answering her._] So he lives up there quite alone. Absolutely by
himself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, practically so. They tell me an old clerk or copyist or something
comes out to see him now and then.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Ah, indeed; no doubt it is a man called Foldal. I know they were friends
as young men.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I believe they were. But I know nothing about him. He was quite
outside our circle—when we _had_ a circle——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he comes out to see Borkman now?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, he condescends to. But of course he only comes when it is dark.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
This Foldal—he was one of those that suffered when the bank failed.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Carelessly._] Yes, I believe I heard he had lost some money. But no
doubt it was something quite trifling.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With slight emphasis._] It was all he possessed.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Smiling._] Oh, well; what he possessed must have been little
enough—nothing to speak of.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And he _did_ not speak of it—Foldal I mean—at the trial.
MRS. BORKMAN.
At all events, I can assure you Erhart has made ample amends for any
little loss he may have suffered.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With surprise._] Erhart! How can Erhart have done _that_?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He has taken an interest in Foldal’s youngest daughter. He has taught
her things, and put her in the way of getting employment, and some day
providing for herself. I am sure that is a great deal more than her
father could ever have done for her.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I daresay her father can’t afford to do much.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And then Erhart has arranged for her to have lessons in music. She has
made such progress already that she can come up to—to him in the
gallery, and play to him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he is still fond of music?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh yes, I suppose he is. Of course he has the piano you sent out
here—when he was expected back——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And she plays to him on it?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, now and then—in the evenings. That is Erhart’s doing, too.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Has the poor girl to come all the long way out here, and then back to
town again?
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, she doesn’t need to. Erhart has arranged for her to stay with a lady
who lives near us—a Mrs. Wilton——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With interest._] Mrs. Wilton?
MRS. BORKMAN.
A very rich woman. You don’t know her.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have heard her name. Mrs. Fanny Wilton, is it not——?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, quite right.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart has mentioned her several times. Does she live out here now?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, she has taken a villa here; she moved out from town some time ago.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a slight hesitation._] They say she is divorced from her husband.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Her husband has been dead for several years.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, but they were divorced. He got a divorce.
MRS. BORKMAN.
He deserted her, that is what he did. I am sure the fault wasn’t hers.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you know her at all intimately, Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh yes, pretty well. She lives close by here; and she looks in every now
and then.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And do you like her?
MRS. BORKMAN.
She is unusually intelligent; remarkably clear in her judgments.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
In her judgments of people, do you mean?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, principally of people. She has made quite a study of Erhart; looked
deep into his character—into his soul. And the result is she idolises
him, as she could not help doing.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a touch of finesse._] Then perhaps she knows Erhart still better
than she knows you?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, Erhart saw a good deal of her in town, before she came out here.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Without thinking._] And in spite of that she moved out of town?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Taken aback, looking keenly at her._] In spite of that! What do you
mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Evasively._] Oh, nothing particular.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You said it so strangely—you _did_ mean something by it, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking her straight in the eyes._] Yes, that is true, Gunhild! I did
mean something by it.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, then, say it right out.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
First let me tell you, I think I too have a certain claim upon Erhart.
Do you think I haven’t?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Glancing round the room._] No doubt—after all the money you have spent
upon him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, not on that account, Gunhild. But because I love him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Smiling scornfully._] Love _my_ son? Is it possible? _You?_ In spite
of everything?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is possible—in spite of everything. And it is true. I love
Erhart—as much as I can love any one—now—at my time of life.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well, suppose you do: what then?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Why, then, I am troubled as soon as I see anything threatening him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Threatening Erhart! Why, what should threaten him? Or who?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You in the first place—in your way.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Vehemently._] I!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And then this Mrs. Wilton, too, I am afraid.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looks at her for a moment in speechless surprise._] And you can think
such things of Erhart! Of my own boy! He, who has his great mission to
fulfil!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Lightly._] Oh, his mission!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Indignantly._] How dare you say that so scornfully?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you think a young man of Erhart’s age, full of health and spirits—-do
you think he is going to sacrifice himself for—for such a thing as a
"mission"?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Firmly and emphatically._] Erhart will! I know he will.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Shaking her head._] You neither know it nor believe it, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I don’t believe it!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is only a dream that you cherish. For if you hadn’t that to cling to,
you feel that you would utterly despair.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, indeed I should despair. [_Vehemently._] And I daresay that is what
you would like to see, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With head erect._] Yes, I would rather see that than see you “redeem”
yourself at Erhart’s expense.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Threateningly._] You want to come between us? Between mother and son?
You?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I want to free him from your power—your will—your despotism.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Triumphantly._] You are too late! You had him in your nets all those
years—until he was fifteen. But now I have won him again, you see!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then I will win him back from you! [_Hoarsely, half whispering._] We two
have fought a life-and-death battle before, Gunhild—for a man’s soul!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking at her in triumph._] Yes, and I won the victory.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a smile of scorn._] Do you still think that victory was worth the
winning?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Darkly._] No; Heaven knows you are right there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You need look for no victory worth the winning this time either.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Not when I am fighting to preserve a mother’s power over my son!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No; for it is only _power_ over him that you want.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Warmly._] I want his affection—his soul—his whole heart!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With an outburst._] That you shall never have in this world!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at her._] You have seen to that?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Smiling._] Yes, I have taken that liberty. Could you not see that in
his letters?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Nods slowly._] Yes. I could see you—the whole of you—in his letters of
late.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Gallingly._] I have made the best use of these eight years, I have had
him under my own eye, you see.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Controlling herself._] What have you said to Erhart about me? Is it
the sort of thing you can tell me?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh yes, I can tell you well enough.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then please do.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I have only told him the truth.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Well?
MRS. BORKMAN.
I have impressed upon him, every day of his life, that he must never
forget that it is you we have to thank for being able to live as we
do—for being able to live at all.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Is that all?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh, that is the sort of thing that rankles; I feel that in my own heart.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But that is very much what Erhart knew already.
MRS. BORKMAN.
When he came home to me, he imagined that you did it all out of goodness
of heart. [_Looks_ _malignly at her._] Now he does not believe that any
longer, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then what does he believe now?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He believes what is the truth. I asked him how he accounted for the fact
that Aunt Ella never came here to visit us——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Interrupting._] He knew my reasons already!
MRS. BORKMAN.
He knows them better now. You had got him to believe that it was to
spare me and—and him up there in the gallery——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And so it was.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart does not believe that for a moment, now.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
What have you put in his head?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He thinks, what is the truth, that you are ashamed of us—that you
despise us. And do you pretend that you don’t? Were you not once
planning to take him quite away from me? Think, Ella; you cannot have
forgotten.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a gesture of negation._] That was at the height of the
scandal—when the case was before the courts. I have no such designs now.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And it would not matter if you had. For in that case what would become
of his mission? No, thank you. It is me that Erhart needs—not you. And
therefore he is as good as dead to you—and you to him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Coldly, with resolution._] We shall see. For now I shall remain out
here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Stares at her._] Here? In this house?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Here—with us? Remain all night?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I shall remain here all the rest of my days if need be.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Collecting herself._] Very well, Ella; the house is yours——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, nonsense——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Everything is yours. The chair I am sitting in is yours. The bed I lie
and toss in at night belongs to you. The food we eat comes to us from
you.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It can’t be arranged otherwise, you know. Borkman can hold no property
of his own; for some one would at once come and take it from him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I know. We must be content to live upon your pity and charity.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Coldly._] I cannot prevent you from looking at it in that light,
Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, you cannot. When do you want us to move out?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at her._] Move out?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_In great excitement._] Yes; you don’t imagine that I will go on living
under the same roof with you! I tell you, I would rather go to the
workhouse or tramp the roads!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Good. Then let me take Erhart with me——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart? My own son? My child?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes; for then I would go straight home again.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_After reflecting a moment, firmly._] Erhart himself shall choose
between us.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking doubtfully and hesitatingly at her._] He choose? Dare you risk
that, Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a hard laugh._] _Dare_ I? Let my boy choose between his mother
and you? Yes, indeed I dare!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Listening._] Is there some one coming? I thought I heard——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Then it must be Erhart.
[_There is a sharp knock at the door leading in from the hall, which
is immediately opened. MRS. WILTON enters, in evening dress, and
with outer wraps. She is followed by THE MAID, who has not had
time to announce her, and looks bewildered. The door remains
half open. MRS. WILTON is a strikingly handsome, well-developed
woman in the thirties. Broad, red, smiling lips, sparkling eyes.
Luxuriant dark hair._
MRS. WILTON.
Good evening, my dearest Mrs. Borkman!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Rather drily._] Good evening, Mrs. Wilton. [_To THE MAID, pointing
toward the garden-room._] Take out the lamp that is in there and light
it.
[_THE MAID takes the lamp and goes out with it._
MRS. WILTON.
[_Observing ELLA RENTHEIM._] Oh, I beg your pardon—you have a visitor.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Only my sister, who has just arrived from——
[_ERHART BORKMAN flings the half-open door wide open and rushes in.
He is a young man with bright cheerful eyes. He is well dressed;
his moustache is beginning to grow._
ERHART.
[_Radiant with joy; on the threshold._] What is this! Is Aunt Ella here?
[_Rushing up to her, and seizing her hands._] Aunt, aunt! Is it
possible? Are _you_ here?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Throws her arms round his neck._] Erhart! My dear, dear boy! Why, how
big you have grown! Oh, how good it is to see you again!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Sharply._] What does this mean, Erhart? Were you hiding out in the
hall?
MRS. WILTON.
[_Quickly._] Erhart—Mr. Borkman came in with me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking hard at him._] Indeed, Erhart! You don’t come to your mother
first.
ERHART.
I had just to look in at Mrs. Wilton’s for a moment—to call for little
Frida.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Is that Miss Foldal with you too?
MRS. WILTON.
Yes, we have left her in the hall.
ERHART.
[_Addressing some one through the open door._] You can go right
upstairs, Frida.
[_Pause. ELLA RENTHEIM observes ERHART. He seems embarrassed and a
little impatient; his face has assumed a nervous and colder
expression._
[_THE MAID brings the lighted lamp into the garden-room, goes
out again and closes the door behind her._
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With forced politeness._] Well, Mrs. Wilton, if you will give us the
pleasure of your company this evening, won’t you——
MRS. WILTON.
Many thanks, my dear lady, but I really can’t. We have another
invitation. We’re going down to the Hinkels’.
MRS. BORKMAN.