own free will, he is not mine at all. And have him I must! I must have
my boy’s heart, whole and undivided—now!
BORKMAN.
You must remember that Erhart is well into his twenties. You could
scarcely reckon on keeping his heart very long undivided, as you express
it.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With a melancholy smile._] It would not need to be for so very long.
BORKMAN.
Indeed? I should have thought that when _you_ want a thing, you want it
to the end of your days.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So I do. But that need not mean for very long.
BORKMAN.
[_Taken aback._] What do you mean by that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I suppose you know I have been in bad health for many years past?
BORKMAN.
Have _you_?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you not know that?
BORKMAN.
No, I cannot say I did——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at him in surprise._] Has Erhart not told you so?
BORKMAN.
I really don’t remember at the moment.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Perhaps he has not spoken of me at all?
BORKMAN.
Oh, yes, I believe he has spoken of you. But the fact is, I so seldom
see anything of him—scarcely ever. There is a certain person below that
keeps him away from me. Keeps him away, you understand?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Are you quite sure of that, Borkman?
BORKMAN.
Yes, absolutely sure. [_Changing his tone._] And so you have been in bad
health, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I have. And this autumn I grew so much worse that I had to come to
town and take better medical advice.
BORKMAN.
And you have seen the doctors already?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, this morning.
BORKMAN.
And what did they say to you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
They gave me full assurance of what I had long suspected.
BORKMAN.
Well?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Calmly and quietly._] My illness will never be cured, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Oh, you must not believe that, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is a disease that there is no help or cure for. The doctors can do
nothing with it. They must just let it take its course. They cannot
possibly check it; at most, they can allay the suffering. And that is
always something.
BORKMAN.
Oh, but it will take a long time to run its course. I am sure it will.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I may perhaps last out the winter, they told me.
BORKMAN.
[_Without thinking._] Oh, well, the winter is long.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Quietly._] Long enough for me, at any rate.
BORKMAN.
[_Eagerly, changing the subject._] But what in all the world can have
brought on this illness? You, who have always lived such a healthy and
regular life? What can have brought it on?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at him._] The doctors thought that perhaps at one time in my
life I had had to go through some great stress of emotion.
BORKMAN.
[_Firing up._] Emotion! Aha, I understand! You mean that it is my fault?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With increasing inward agitation._] It is too late to go into that
matter now! But I must have my heart’s own child again before I go! It
is so unspeakably sad for me to think that I must go away from all that
is called life—away from sun, and light, and air—and not leave behind me
one single human being who will think of me—who will remember me
lovingly and mournfully—as a son remembers and thinks of the mother he
has lost.
BORKMAN.
[_After a short pause._] Take him, Ella, if you can win him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_With animation._] Do you give your consent? _Can_ you?
BORKMAN.
[_Gloomily._] Yes. And it is no great sacrifice either. For in any case
he is not mine.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Thank you, thank you all the same for the sacrifice! But I have one
thing more to beg of you—a great thing for me, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Well, what is it?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I daresay you will think it childish of me—you will not understand——
BORKMAN.
Go on—tell me what it is.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
When I die—as I must soon—I shall have a fair amount to leave behind me.
BORKMAN.
Yes, I suppose so.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And I intend to leave it all to Erhart.
BORKMAN.
Well, you have really no one nearer to you than he.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Warmly._] No indeed, I have no one nearer me than he.
BORKMAN.
No one of your own family. You are the last.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Nodding slowly._] Yes, that is just it. When I die, the name of
Rentheim dies with me. And that is such a torturing thought to me. To be
wiped out of existence—even to your very name——
BORKMAN.
[_Firing up._] Ah, I see what you are driving at!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Passionately._] Do not let it be so! Let Erhart bear my name after me!
BORKMAN.
[_Looking harshly at her._] I understand you well enough. You want to
save my son from having to bear his father’s name. That is your idea.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, no, not that! I myself would have borne it proudly and gladly along
with you! But a mother who is at the point of death——There is more
binding force in a name than you think or believe, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
[_Coldly and proudly._] Well and good, Ella. I am man enough to bear my
own name alone.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Seizing and pressing his hand._] Thank you, thank you! Now there has
been a full settlement between us! Yes, yes, let it be so! You have made
all the atonement in your power. For when I have gone from the world, I
shall leave Erhart Rentheim behind me!
[_The tapestry door is thrown open. MRS. BORKMAN, with the large
shawl over her head, stands in the doorway._
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_In violent agitation._] Never to his dying day shall Erhart be called
by that name!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Shrinking back._] Gunhild!
BORKMAN.
[_Harshly and threateningly._] I allow no one to come up to my room!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Advancing a step._] I do not ask your permission.
BORKMAN.
[_Going towards her._] What do you want with me?
MRS. BORKMAN.
I will fight with all my might for you. I will protect you from the
powers of evil.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The worst “powers of evil” are in yourself, Gunhild!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Harshly._] So be it then. [_Menacingly, with upstretched arm._] But
this I tell you—he shall bear his father’s name! And bear it aloft in
honour again. And I will be his mother! I alone! My son’s heart shall be
mine—mine, and no other’s.
[_She goes out by the tapestry door and shuts it behind her._
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Shaken and shattered._] Borkman, Erhart’s life will be wrecked in this
storm. There must be an understanding between you and Gunhild. We must
go down to her at once.
BORKMAN.
[_Looking at her._] We? I too, do you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Both you and I.
BORKMAN.
[_Shaking his head._] She is hard, I tell you. Hard as the metal I once
dreamed of hewing out of the rocks.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then try it now!
[_BORKMAN does not answer, but stands looking doubtfully at her._
ACT THIRD
_MRS. BORKMAN’S Drawing-room. The lamp is still burning on the table
beside the sofa in front. The garden-room at the back is quite
dark._
_MRS. BORKMAN, with the shawl still over her head, enters, in violent
agitation, by the hall door, goes up to the window, draws the
curtain a little aside, and looks out; then she seats herself
beside the stove, but immediately springs up again, goes to the
bell-pull and rings. Stands beside the sofa, and waits a moment.
No one comes. Then she rings again, this time more violently._
_THE MAID presently enters from the hall. She looks sleepy and out of
temper, and appears to have dressed in great haste._
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Impatiently._] What has become of you, Malena? I have rung for you
twice!
THE MAID.
Yes, ma’am, I heard you.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And yet you didn’t come?
THE MAID.
[_Sulkily._] I had to put some clothes on first, I suppose.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you must dress yourself properly, and then you must run at once and
fetch my son.
THE MAID.
[_Looking at her in astonishment._] You want me to fetch Mr. Erhart?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes; tell him he must come home to me at once; I want to speak to him.
THE MAID.
[_Grumbling._] Then I’d better go to the bailiff’s and call up the
coachman.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Why?
THE MAID.
To get him to harness the sledge. The snow’s dreadful to-night.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh, that doesn’t matter; only make haste and go. It’s just round the
corner.
THE MAID.
Why ma’am, you can’t call that just round the corner!
MRS. BORKMAN.
Of course it is. Don’t you know Mr. Hinkel’s villa?
THE MAID.
[_With malice._] Oh, indeed! It’s there Mr. Erhart is this evening?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Taken aback._] Why, where else should he be?
THE MAID.
[_With a slight smile._] Well, I only thought he might be where he
usually is.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Where do you mean?
THE MAID.
At that Mrs. Wilton’s, as they call her.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Mrs. Wilton’s? My son isn’t so often there.
THE MAID.
[_Half muttering._] I’ve heard say as he’s there every day of his life.
MRS. BORKMAN.
That’s all nonsense, Malena. Go straight to Mr. Hinkel’s and try to get
hold of him.
THE MAID.
[_With a toss of her head._] Oh, very well; I’m going.
[_She is on the point of going out by the hall, but just at that
moment the hall door is opened, and ELLA RENTHEIM and BORKMAN
appear on the threshold._
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Staggers a step backwards._] What does this mean?
THE MAID.
[_Terrified, instinctively folding her hands._] Lord save us!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Whispers to THE MAID._] Tell him he must come this instant.
THE MAID.
[_Softly._] Yes, ma’am.
[_ELLA RENTHEIM and, after her, BORKMAN enter the room. THE MAID
sidles behind them to the door, goes out, and closes it after
her._
[_A short silence._]
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Having recovered her self-control, turns to ELLA._] What does he want
down here in my room?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
He wants to come to an understanding with you, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
He has never tried that before.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
He is going to, this evening.
MRS. BORKMAN.
The last time we stood face to face—it was in the Court, when I was
summoned to give an account——
BORKMAN.
[_Approaching._] And this evening it is _I_ who will give an account of
myself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking at him._] You?
BORKMAN.
Not of what I have done amiss. All the world knows that.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a bitter sigh._] Yes, that is true; all the world knows that.
BORKMAN.
But it does not know _why_ I did it; why I _had_ to do it. People do not
understand that I had to, because I was myself—because I was John
Gabriel Borkman—myself, and not another. And that is what I will try to
explain to you.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Shaking her head._] It is of no use. Temptations and promptings acquit
no one.
BORKMAN.
They may acquit one in one’s own eyes.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a gesture of repulsion._] Oh, let all that alone! I have thought
over that black business of yours enough and to spare.
BORKMAN.
I too. During those five endless years in my cell—and elsewhere—I had
time to think it over. And during the eight years up there in the
gallery I have had still more ample time. I have re-tried the whole
case—by myself. Time after time I have re-tried it. I have been my own
accuser, my own defender, and my own judge. I have been more impartial
than any one else could be—that I venture to say. I have paced up and
down the gallery there, turning every one of my actions upside down and
inside out. I have examined them from all sides as unsparingly, as
pitilessly, as any lawyer of them all. And the final judgment I have
always come to is this: the one person I have sinned against is—myself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And what about me? What about your son?
BORKMAN.
You and he are included in what I mean when I say myself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And what about the hundreds of others, then—the people you are said to
have ruined?
BORKMAN.
[_More vehemently._] I had power in my hands! And then I felt the
irresistible vocation within me! The prisoned millions lay all over the
country, deep in the bowels of the earth, calling aloud to me! They
shrieked to me to free them! But no one else heard their cry—I alone had
ears for it.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, to the branding of the name of Borkman.
BORKMAN.
If the others had had the power, do you think they would not have acted
exactly as I did?
MRS. BORKMAN.
No one, no one but you would have done it!
BORKMAN.
Perhaps not. But that would have been because they had not my brains.
And if they _had_ done it, it would not have been with _my_ aims in
view. The act would have been a different act. In short, I have
acquitted myself.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Softly and appealingly._] Oh, can you say that so confidently,
Borkman?
BORKMAN.
[_Nodding._] Acquitted myself on _that_ score. But then comes the great,
crushing self-accusation.
MRS. BORKMAN.
What is that?
BORKMAN.
I have skulked up there and wasted eight precious years of my life! The
very day I was set free, I should have gone forth into the world—out
into the steel-hard, dreamless world of reality! I should have begun at
the bottom and swung myself up to the heights anew—higher than ever
before—in spite of all that lay between.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh, it would only have been the same thing over again; take my word for
that.
BORKMAN.
[_Shakes his head, and looks at her with a sententious air._] It is true
that nothing new happens; but what _has_ happened does not repeat itself
either. It is the eye that transforms the action. The eye, born anew,
transforms the old action. [_Breaking off._] But you do not understand
this.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Curtly._] No, I do not understand it.
BORKMAN.
Ah, that is just the curse—I have never found one single soul to
understand me.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking at him._] Never, Borkman?
BORKMAN.
Except one—perhaps. Long, long ago. In the days when I did not think I
needed understanding. Since then, at any rate, no one has understood me!
There has been no one alive enough to my needs to be afoot and rouse
me—to ring the morning bell for me—to call me up to manful work anew.
And to impress upon me that I had done nothing inexpiable.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a scornful laugh._] So, after all, you require to have _that_
impressed on you from without?
BORKMAN.
[_With increasing indignation._] Yes, when the whole world hisses in
chorus that I have sunk never to rise again, there come moments when I
almost believe it myself. [_Raising his head._] But then my inmost
assurance rises again triumphant; and _that_ acquits me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking harshly at him._] Why have you never come and asked me for
what you call understanding?
BORKMAN.
What use would it have been to come to you?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With a gesture of repulsion._] You have never loved anything outside
yourself; _that_ is the secret of the whole matter.
BORKMAN.
[_Proudly._] I have loved power.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, power!
BORKMAN.
The power to create human happiness in wide, wide circles around me!
MRS. BORKMAN.
You had once the power to make me happy. Have you used it to that end?
BORKMAN.
[_Without looking at her._] Some one must generally go down in a
shipwreck.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And your own son! Have you used your power—have you lived and
laboured—to make _him_ happy?
BORKMAN.
I do not know him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, that is true. You do not even know him.
BORKMAN.
[_Harshly._] You, his mother, have taken care of that!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking at him with a lofty air._] Oh, you do not know what I have
taken care of!
BORKMAN.
You?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I. I alone.
BORKMAN.
Then tell me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I have taken care of your memory.
BORKMAN.
[_With a short dry laugh._] My memory? Oh, indeed! It sounds almost as
if I were dead already.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With emphasis._] And so you are.
BORKMAN.
[_Slowly._] Yes, perhaps you are right. [_Firing up._] But no, no! Not
yet! I have been close to the verge of death. But now I have awakened. I
have come to myself. A whole life lies before me yet. I can see it
awaiting me, radiant and quickening. And you—you shall see it too.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Raising her hand._] Never dream of life again! Lie quiet where you
are.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Shocked._] Gunhild! Gunhild, how can you——!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Not listening to her._] I will raise the monument over your grave.
BORKMAN.
The pillar of shame, I suppose you mean?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_With increasing excitement._] Oh, no, it shall be no pillar of metal
or stone. And no one shall be suffered to carve any scornful legend on
the monument I shall raise. There shall be, as it were, a quickset hedge
of trees and bushes, close, close around your tomb. They shall hide away
all the darkness that has been. The eyes of men and the thoughts of men
shall no longer dwell on John Gabriel Borkman!
BORKMAN.
[_Hoarsely and cuttingly._] And this labour of love you will perform?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Not by my own strength. I cannot think of that. But I have brought up
one to help me, who shall live for this alone. His life shall be so pure
and high and bright, that your burrowing in the dark shall be as though
it had never been!
BORKMAN.
[_Darkly and threateningly._] If it is Erhart you mean, say so at once!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking him straight in the eyes._] Yes, it is Erhart; my son; he whom
you are ready to renounce in atonement for your own acts.
BORKMAN.
[_With a look towards ELLA._] In atonement for my blackest sin.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Repelling the idea._] A sin towards a stranger only. Remember the sin
towards me! [_Looking triumphantly at them both._] But he will not obey
you! When I cry out to him in my need, he will come to me! It is with me
that he will remain! With me, and never with any one else. [_Suddenly
listens, and cries._] I hear him! He is here, he is here! Erhart!
[_ERHART BORKMAN hastily tears open the hall door, and enters the
room. He is wearing an overcoat and has his hat on._
ERHART.
[_Pale and anxious._] Mother! What in Heaven’s name——! [_Seeing BORKMAN,
who is standing beside the doorway leading into the garden-room, he
starts and takes off his hat. After a moment’s silence, he asks_:] What
do you want with me, mother? What has happened?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Stretching out her arms towards him._] I want to see you, Erhart! I
want to have you with me, always!
ERHART.
[_Stammering._] Have me——? Always? What do you mean by that?
MRS. BORKMAN.
I _will_ have you, I say! There is some one who wants to take you from
me!
ERHART.
[_Recoiling a step._] Ah—so you know?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes. Do you know it, too?
ERHART.
[_Surprised, looking at her._] Do _I_ know it? Yes, of course.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Aha, so you have planned it all out! Behind my back! Erhart! Erhart!
ERHART.
[_Quickly._] Mother, tell me what it is you know!
MRS. BORKMAN.
I know everything. I know that your aunt has come here to take you from
me.
ERHART.
Aunt Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, listen to me a moment, Erhart!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Continuing._] She wants me to give you up to her. She wants to stand
in your mother’s place to you, Erhart! She wants you to be her son, and
not mine, from this time forward. She wants you to inherit everything
from her; to renounce your own name and take hers instead!
ERHART.
Aunt Ella, is this true?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is true.
ERHART.
I knew nothing of this. Why do you want to have me with you again?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Because I feel that I am losing you here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Hardly._] You are losing him to me—yes. And that is just as it should
be.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Looking beseechingly at him._] Erhart, I cannot afford to lose you.
For, I must tell you, I am a lonely—dying woman.
ERHART.
Dying——?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, dying. Will you come and be with me to the end? Attach yourself
wholly to me? Be to me, as though you were my own child——?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Interrupting._] And forsake your mother, and perhaps your mission in
life as well? Will you, Erhart?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I am condemned to death. Answer me, Erhart.
ERHART.
[_Warmly, with emotion._] Aunt Ella, you have been unspeakably good to
me. With you I grew up in as perfect happiness as any boy can ever have
known——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart, Erhart!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, how glad I am that you can still say that!
ERHART.
But I cannot sacrifice myself to you now. It is not possible for me to
devote myself wholly to taking a son’s place towards you.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Triumphing._] Ah, I knew it! You shall not have him! You shall not
have him, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Sadly._] I see it. You have won him back.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, yes! Mine he is, and mine he shall remain! Erhart, say it is so,
dear; we two have still a long way to go together, have we not?
ERHART.
[_Struggling with himself._] Mother, I may as well tell you plainly——
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Eagerly._] What?
ERHART.
I am afraid it is only a very little way you and I can go together.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Stands as though thunderstruck._] What do you mean by that?
ERHART.
[_Plucking up spirit._] Good heavens, mother, I am young, after all! I
feel as if the close air of this room must stifle me in the end.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Close air? Here—with me?
ERHART.
Yes, here with you, mother.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then come with me, Erhart.
ERHART.
Oh, Aunt Ella, it’s not a whit better with you. It’s different, but no
better—no better for me. It smells of rose-leaves and lavender there
too; it is as airless there as here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Shaken, but having recovered her composure with an effort._] Airless
in your mother’s room, you say!
ERHART.
[_In growing impatience._] Yes, I don’t know how else to express it. All
this morbid watchfulness and—and idolisation, or whatever you like to
call it——I can’t endure it any longer!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking at him with deep solemnity._] Have you forgotten what you have
consecrated your life to, Erhart?
ERHART.
[_With an outburst._] Oh, say rather what _you_ have consecrated my life
to. You, you have been my will. You have never given me leave to have
any of my own. But now I cannot bear this yoke any longer. I am young;
remember that, mother. [_With a polite, considerate glance towards
BORKMAN._] I cannot consecrate my life to making atonement for
another—whoever that other may be.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Seized with a growing anxiety._] Who is it that has transformed you,
Erhart?
ERHART.
[_Struck._] Who? Can you not conceive that it is I myself?
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no, no! You have come under some strange power. You are not in your
mother’s power any longer; nor in your—your foster-mother’s either.
ERHART.
[_With laboured defiance._] I am in my own power, mother! And working my
own will!
BORKMAN.
[_Advancing towards ERHART._] Then perhaps my hour has come at last.
ERHART.
[_Distantly and with measured politeness._] How so? How do you mean,
sir?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Scornfully._] Yes, you may well ask that.
BORKMAN.
[_Continuing undisturbed._] Listen, Erhart—will you not cast in your lot
with your father? It is not through any other man’s life that a man who
has fallen can be raised up again. These are only empty fables that have
been told to you down here in the airless room. If you were to set
yourself to live your life like all the saints together, it would be of
no use whatever to me.
ERHART.
[_With measured respectfulness._] That is very true indeed.
BORKMAN.
Yes, it is. And it would be of no use either if I should resign myself
to wither away in abject penitence. I have tried to feed myself upon
hopes and dreams, all through these years. But I am not the man to be
content with that; and now I mean to have done with dreaming.
ERHART.
[_With a slight bow._] And what will—what will you do, sir?
BORKMAN.
I will work out my own redemption, that is what I will do. I will begin
at the bottom again. It is only through his present and his future that
a man can atone for his past. Through work, indefatigable work, for all
that, in my youth, seemed to give life its meaning—and that now seems a
thousand times greater than it did then. Erhart, will you join with me
and help me in this new life?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Raising her hand warningly._] Do not do it, Erhart!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[_Warmly._] Yes, yes, do it! Oh, help him, Erhart!
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you advise him to do that? You, the lonely, dying woman.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I don’t care about myself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, so long as it is not I that take him from you.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Precisely so, Gunhild.
BORKMAN.
Will you, Erhart?
ERHART.
[_Wrung with pain._] Father, I cannot now. It is utterly impossible!
BORKMAN.
What do you want to do then?
ERHART.
[_With a sudden glow._] I am young! I want to live, for once in a way,
as well as other people! I want to live my own life!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You cannot give up two or three little months to brighten the close of a
poor waning life?
ERHART.
I _cannot_, Aunt, however much I may wish to.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not for the sake of one who loves you so dearly?
ERHART.
I solemnly assure you, Aunt Ella, I cannot.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[_Looking sharply at him._] And your mother has no power over you
either, any more?
ERHART.
I will always love you, mother; but I cannot go on living for you alone.
This is no life for me.
BORKMAN.