Part 8

[_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.

[_Looking at her._] We? Whom do you mean by we?

MRS. WILTON.

[_Laughing._] Oh, I ought really to have said I. But I was commissioned by the ladies of the house to bring Mr. Borkman with me—if I happened to see him.

MRS. BORKMAN.

And you _did_ happen to see him, it appears.

MRS. WILTON.

Yes, fortunately. He was good enough to look in at my house—to call for Frida.

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_Drily._] But, Erhart, I did not know that you knew that family—these Hinkels?

ERHART.

[_Irritated._] No, I don’t exactly know them. [_Adds rather impatiently._] You know better than anybody, mother, what people I know and don’t know.

MRS. WILTON.

Oh, it doesn’t matter! They soon put you at your ease at that house! They are such cheerful, hospitable people—the house swarms with young ladies.

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_With emphasis._] If I know my son rightly, Mrs. Wilton, they are no fit company for him.

MRS. WILTON.

Why, good gracious, dear lady, he is young, too, you know!

MRS. BORKMAN.

Yes, fortunately he’s young. He would need to be young.

ERHART.

[_Concealing his impatience._] Well, well, well, mother, it’s quite clear I can’t go to the Hinkels’ this evening. Of course I shall remain here with you and Aunt Ella.

MRS. BORKMAN.

I knew you would, my dear Erhart.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

No, Erhart, you must not stop at home on my account——

ERHART.

Yes, indeed, my dear Aunt; I can’t think of going. [_Looking doubtfully at MRS. WILTON._] But how shall we manage? Can I get out of it? You have said “Yes” for me, haven’t you?

MRS. WILTON.

[_Gaily._] What nonsense! Not get out of it! When I make my entrance into the festive halls—just imagine it!—deserted and forlorn—then I must simply say “No” for you.

ERHART.

[_Hesitatingly._] Well, if you really think I can get out of it——

MRS. WILTON.

[_Putting the matter lightly aside._] I am quite used to saying both yes and no—on my own account. And you can’t possibly think of leaving your aunt the moment she has arrived! For shame, Monsieur Erhart! Would that be behaving like a good son?

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_Annoyed._] Son?

MRS. WILTON.

Well, adopted son then, Mrs. Borkman.

MRS. BORKMAN.

Yes, you may well add that.

MRS. WILTON.

Oh, it seems to me we have often more cause to be grateful to a foster-mother than to our own mother.

MRS. BORKMAN.

Has that been your experience?

MRS. WILTON.

I knew very little of my own mother, I am sorry to say. But if I had had a good foster-mother, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so—so naughty, as people say I am. [_Turning towards ERHART._] Well, then, we stop peaceably at home like a good boy, and drink tea with mamma and auntie! [_To the ladies._] Good-bye, goodbye Mrs. Borkman! Good-bye Miss Rentheim.

[_The ladies bow silently. She goes toward the door._

ERHART.

[_Following her._] Shan’t I go a little bit of the way with you?

MRS. WILTON.

[_In the doorway, motioning him back._] You shan’t go a step with me. I am quite accustomed to taking my walks alone. [_Stops on the threshold, looks at him and nods._] But now beware, Mr. Borkman—I warn you!

ERHART.

What am I to beware of?

MRS. WILTON.

[_Gaily._] Why, as I go down the road—deserted and forlorn, as I said before—I shall try if I can’t cast a spell upon you.

ERHART.

[_Laughing._] Oh, indeed! Are you going to try that again?

MRS. WILTON.

[_Half seriously._] Yes, just you beware! As I go down the road, I will say in my own mind—right from the very centre of my will—I will say: “Mr. Erhart Borkman, take your hat at once!”

MRS. BORKMAN.

And you think he will take it?

MRS. WILTON.

[_Laughing._] Good heavens, yes, he’ll snatch up his hat instantly. And then I will say: “Now put on your overcoat, like a good boy, Erhart Borkman! And your goloshes! Be sure you don’t forget the goloshes! And then follow me! Do as I bid you, as I bid you, as I bid you!”

ERHART.

[_With forced gaiety._] Oh, you may rely on that.

MRS. WILTON.

[_Raising her forefinger._] As I bid you! As I bid you! Good-night!

[_She laughs and nods to the ladies, and closes the door behind her._

MRS. BORKMAN.

Does she really play tricks of that sort?

ERHART.

Oh, not at all. How can you think so! She only says it in fun. [_Breaking off._] But don’t let us talk about Mrs. Wilton. [_He forces ELLA RENTHEIM to seat herself in the armchair beside the stove, then stands and looks at her._] To think of your having taken all this long journey, Aunt Ella! And in winter too!

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I found I had to, Erhart.

ERHART.

Indeed? Why so?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I had to come to town after all, to consult the doctors.

ERHART.

Oh, I’m glad of that!

ELLA RENTHEIM.

[_Smiling._] Are you glad of that?

ERHART.

I mean I am glad you made up your mind to it at last.

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_On the sofa, coldly._] Are you ill, Ella?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

[_Looking hardly at her._] You know quite well that I am ill.

MRS. BORKMAN.

I knew you were not strong, and hadn’t been for years.

ERHART.

I told you before I left you that you ought to consult a doctor.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

There is no one in my neighbourhood that I have any real confidence in. And, besides, I did not feel it so much at that time.

ERHART.

Are you worse, then, Aunt?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

Yes, my dear boy; I am worse now.

ERHART.

But there’s nothing dangerous?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

Oh, that depends how you look at it.

ERHART.

[_Emphatically._] Well, then, I tell you what it is, Aunt Ella; you mustn’t think of going home again for the present.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

No, I am not thinking of it.

ERHART.

You must remain in town; for here you can have your choice of all the best doctors.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

That was what I thought when I left home.

ERHART.

And then you must be sure and find a really nice place to live—quiet, comfortable rooms.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I went this morning to the old ones, where I used to stay before.

ERHART.

Oh, well, you were comfortable enough there.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

Yes, but I shall not be staying there after all.

ERHART.

Indeed? Why not?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I changed my mind after coming out here.

ERHART.

[_Surprised._] Really? Changed your mind?

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_Crocheting; without looking up._] Your aunt will live here, in her own house, Erhart.

ERHART.

[_Looking from one to the other alternately._] Here, with us? With us? Is this true, Aunt?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

Yes, that is what I have made up my mind to do.

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_As before._] Everything here belongs to your aunt, you know.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I intend to remain here, Erhart—just now—for the present. I shall set up a little establishment of my own, over in the bailiff’s wing.

ERHART.

Ah, that’s a good idea. There are plenty of rooms there. [_With sudden vivacity._] But, by-the-bye, Aunt—aren’t you very tired after your journey?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

Oh yes, rather tired.

ERHART.

Well, then, I think you ought to go quite early to bed.

ELLA RENTHEIM.

[_Looks at him smilingly._] I mean to.

ERHART.

[_Eagerly._] And then we could have a good long talk to-morrow—or some other day, of course—about this and that—about things in general—you and mother and I. Wouldn’t that be much the best plan, Aunt Ella?

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_With an outburst, rising from the sofa._] Erhart, I can see you are going to leave me!

ERHART.

[_Starts._] What do you mean by that?

MRS. BORKMAN.

You are going down to—to the Hinkels’?

ERHART.

[_Involuntarily._] Oh, that! [_Collecting himself._] Well, you wouldn’t have me sit here and keep Aunt Ella up half the night? Remember, she’s an invalid, mother.

MRS. BORKMAN.

You are going to the Hinkels’, Erhart!

ERHART.

[_Impatiently._] Well, really, mother, I don’t think I can well get out of it. What do _you_ say, Aunt?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

I should like you to feel quite free, Erhart.

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_Goes up to her menacingly._] You want to take him away from me!

ELLA RENTHEIM.

[_Rising._] Yes, if only I could, Gunhild!

[_Music is heard from above._

ERHART.

[_Writhing as if in pain._] Oh, I can’t endure this! [_Looking round._] What have I done with my hat? [_To ELLA RENTHEIM._] Do you know the air that she is playing up there?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

No. What is it?

ERHART.

It’s the _Danse Macabre_—the Dance of Death! Don’t you know the Dance of Death, Aunt?

ELLA RENTHEIM.

[_Smiling sadly._] Not yet, Erhart.

ERHART.

[_To MRS. BORKMAN._] Mother—I beg and implore you—let me go!

MRS. BORKMAN.

[_Looks hardly at him._] Away from your mother? So that is what you want to do?

ERHART.

Of course I’ll come out again—to-morrow perhaps.

MRS. BORKMAN.