Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (315 page)

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 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 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 these 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 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 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 hallway?

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 ——