Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/203



It is he.

[Softly, with suppressed pain.] Borkman? John Gabriel Borkman?

He walks up and down like that—backwards and forwards—from morning to night—day out and day in.

I have heard something of this

I daresay. People find plenty to say about us, no doubt.

Erhart has spoken of it in his letters. He said that his father generally remained by himself—up there—and you alone down here.

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.

I never believed it could really be so. It seemed impossible!

[Nods.] It is so; and it can never be otherwise.