Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (316 page)

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 — those 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 in 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 got 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, good-bye 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 at 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 you 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? Is this true, Aunt?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, that is what I 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.
[With passionate emotion.]
You want to go away from me! To be with those strange people! With — with — no, I will not even think of it!

ERHART. There are bright lights down there, and young, happy faces; and there’s music there, mother!

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Pointing upwards.]
There is music here, too, Erhart.

ERHART.
Yes, it’s just that music that drives me out of the house.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you grudge your father a moment of self-forgetfulness?

ERHART. No, I don’t. I’m very, very glad that he should have it — if only
I
don’t have to listen.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking solemnly at him.]
Be strong, Erhart! Be strong, my son! Do not forget that you have your great mission.

ERHART.
Oh, mother — do spare me these phrases! I wasn’t born to be
a “missionary.” — Good-night, aunt dear! Good-night, mother.
  [He goes hastily out through the hall.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[After a short silence.]
It has not taken you long to recapture him, Ella, after all.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
I wish I could believe it.

MRS. BORKMAN.
But you shall see you won’t be allowed to keep him long.