Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (314 page)

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 — during the investigation.

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?