Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (324 page)

BOOK: Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen
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BORKMAN. Yes; it is he that is to help Mrs. Wilton with little Frida’s education.

 

FOLDAL.
Oh, Heaven be praised! Then the child is in the best of hands.
But is it quite certain that they have started with her already?

 

BORKMAN.
They took her away in that sledge which ran you over in the road.

 

FOLDAL.
[Clasping his hands.]
To think that my little Frida was in that magnificent sledge!

 

BORKMAN.
[Nodding.]
Yes, yes, Vilhelm, your daughter has come to drive in her carriage. And Master Erhart, too. Tell me, did you notice the silver bells?

 

FOLDAL. Yes, indeed. Silver bells did you say? Were they silver? Real, genuine silver bells?

 

BORKMAN. You may be quite sure of that. Everything was genuine — both outside and in.

 

FOLDAL.
[In quiet emotion.]
Isn’t it strange how fortune can sometimes befriend one? It is my — my little gift of song that has transmuted itself into music in Frida. So after all, it is not for nothing that I was born a poet. For now she is going forth into the great wide world, that I once yearned so passionately to see. Little Frida sets out in a splendid covered sledge with silver bells on the harness ——

 

BORKMAN.
And runs over her father.

 

FOLDAL.
[Happily.]
Oh, pooh! What does it matter about me, if only the child —— ! Well, so I am too late, then, after all. I must go home again and comfort her mother. I left her crying in the kitchen.

 

BORKMAN.
Crying?

 

FOLDAL.
[Smiling.]
Yes, would you believe it, she was crying her eyes out when I came away.

 

BORKMAN.
And you are laughing, Vilhelm?

 

FOLDAL. Yes,
I
am, of course. But she, poor thing, she doesn’t know any better, you see. Well, good-bye! It’s a good thing I have the tramway so handy. Good-bye, good-bye, John Gabriel. Good-bye, Madam.

 

[He bows and limps laboriously out by the way he came.

 

BORKMAN.
[Stands silent for a moment, gazing before him.]
Good-bye,
Vilhelm! It is not the first time in your life that you’ve
been run over, old friend.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at him with suppressed anxiety.]
You are so pale,
John, so very pale.

 

BORKMAN.
That is the effect of the prison air up yonder.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have never seen you like this before.

 

BORKMAN.
No, for I suppose you have never seen an escaped convict before.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, do come into the house with me, John!

 

BORKMAN.
It is no use trying to lure me in. I have told you ——

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
But when I beg and implore you —— ? For your own sake ——

 

[THE MAID opens the door, and stands in the doorway.

 

THE MAID. I beg your pardon. Mrs. Borkman told me to lock the front door now.

 

BORKMAN.
[In a low voice, to ELLA.]
You see, they want to lock me up again!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[To THE MAID.]
Mr. Borkman is not quite well. He wants to have a little fresh air before coming in.

 

THE MAID.
But Mrs. Borkman told me to ——

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
I shall lock the door. Just leave the key in the lock.

 

THE MAID.
Oh, very well; I’ll leave it.
  [She goes into the house again.

 

BORKMAN.
[Stands silent for a moment, and listens; then goes hastily down the steps and out into the open space.]
Now I am outside the walls, Ella! Now they will never get hold of me again!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Who has gone down to him.]
But you are a free man in there, too, John. You can come and go just as you please.

 

BORKMAN.
[Softly, as though in terror.]
Never under a roof again! It is so good to be out here in the night. If I went up into the gallery now, ceiling and walls would shrink together and crush me — crush me flat as a fly.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
But where will you go, then?

 

BORKMAN. I will simply go on, and on, and on. I will try if I cannot make my way to freedom, and life, and human beings again. Will you go with me, Ella?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
I? Now?

 

BORKMAN.
Yes, at once!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
But how far?

 

BORKMAN.
As far as ever I can.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM. Oh, but think what you are doing! Out in this raw, cold winter night ——

 

BORKMAN.
[Speaking very hoarsely.]
Oho — my lady is concerned about her health? Yes, yes — I know it is delicate.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is your health I am concerned about.

 

BORKMAN.
Hohoho! A dead man’s health! I can’t help laughing at you,
Ella! [He moves onwards.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Following him: holding him back.]
What did you call yourself?

 

BORKMAN. A dead man, I said. Don’t you remember, Gunhild told me to lie quiet where I was?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With resolution, throwing her cloak around her.]
I will go with you, John.

 

BORKMAN.
Yes, we two belong to each other, Ella.
[Advancing.]
So come!

 

 [They have gradually passed into the low wood on the left.
      It conceals them little by little, until they are quite
      lost to sight. The house and the open space disappear.
      The landscape, consisting of wooded slopes and ridges,
      slowly changes and grows wilder and wilder.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM’s VOICE.
[Is heard in the wood to the right.]
Where are we going, John?
I don’t recognise this place.

 

BORKMAN’s VOICE.
[Higher up.]
Just follow my footprints in the snow!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM’s VOICE.
But why need we climb so high?

 

BORKMAN’s VOICE.
[Nearer at hand.]
We must go up the winding path.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Still hidden.]
Oh, but I can’t go much further.

 

BORKMAN.
[On the verge of the wood to the right.]
Come, come! We are not far from the view now. There used to be a seat there.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Appearing among the trees.]
Do you remember it?

 

BORKMAN.
You can rest there.

 

[They have emerged upon a small high-lying, open plateau in the wood. The mountain rises abruptly behind them. To the left, far below, an extensive fiord landscape, with high ranges in the distance, towering one above the other. On the plateau, to the left, a dead fir-tree with a bench under it. The snow lies deep upon the plateau.

 

 [BORKMAN and, after him, ELLA RENTHEIM enter from the right
      and wade with difficulty through the snow.

 

BORKMAN.
[Stopping at the verge of the steep declivity on the left.]
Come here, Ella, and you shall see.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coming up to him.]
What do you want to show me, John?

 

BORKMAN.
[Pointing outwards.]
Do you see how free and open the country lies before us — away to the far horizon?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM. We have often sat on this bench before, and looked out into a much, much further distance.

 

BORKMAN.
It was a dreamland we then looked out over.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding sadly.]
It was the dreamland of our life, yes. And now that land is buried in snow. And the old tree is dead.

 

BORKMAN.
[Not listening to her.]
Can you see the smoke of the great steamships out on the fiord?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.

 

BORKMAN. I can. They come and they go. They weave a network of fellowship all round the world. They shed light and warmth over the souls of men in many thousands of homes. That was what I dreamed of doing.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Softly.]
And it remained a dream.

 

BORKMAN. It remained a dream, yes.
[Listening.]
And hark, down by the river, dear! The factories are working! My factories! All those that I would have created! Listen! Do you hear them humming? The night shift is on — so they are working night and day. Hark! hark! the wheels are whirling and the bands are flashing — round and round and round. Can’t you hear, Ella?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.

 

BORKMAN.
I can hear it.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Anxiously.]
I think you are mistaken, John.

 

BORKMAN.
[More and more fired up.]
Oh, but all these — they are only like the outworks around the kingdom, I tell you!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
The kingdom, you say? What kingdom?

 

BORKMAN. My kingdom, of course! The kingdom I was on the point of conquering when I — when I died.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaken, in a low voice.]
Oh, John, John!

 

BORKMAN. And now there it lies — defenceless, masterless — exposed to all the robbers and plunderers. Ella, do you see the mountain chains there — far away? They soar, they tower aloft, one behind the other! That is my vast, my infinite, inexhaustible kingdom!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, but there comes an icy blast from that kingdom, John!

 

BORKMAN. That blast is the breath of life to me. That blast comes to me like a greeting from subject spirits. I seem to touch them, the prisoned millions; I can see the veins of metal stretch out their winding, branching, luring arms to me. I saw them before my eyes like living shapes, that night when I stood in the strong-room with the candle in my hand. You begged to be liberated, and I tried to free you. But my strength failed me; and the treasure sank back into the deep again.
[With outstretched hands.]
But I will whisper it to you here in the stillness of the night: I love you, as you lie there spellbound in the deeps and the darkness! I love you, unborn treasures, yearning for the light! I love you, with all your shining train of power and glory! I love you, love you, love you!

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[In suppressed but rising agitation.]
Yes, your love is still down there, John. It has always been rooted there. But here, in the light of day, here there was a living, warm, human heart that throbbed and glowed for you. And this heart you crushed. Oh worse than that! Ten times worse! You sold it for — for ——

 

BORKMAN.
[Trembles; a cold shudder seems to go through him.]
For the kingdom — and the power — and the glory — you mean?

 

ELLA RENTHEIM. Yes, that is what I mean. I have said it once before to-night: you have murdered the love-life in the woman who loved you. And whom you loved in return, so far as you could love any one.
[With uplifted arm.]
And therefore I prophesy to you, John Gabriel Borkman — you will never touch the price you demanded for the murder. You will never enter in triumph into your cold, dark kingdom!

 

BORKMAN.
[Staggers to the bench and seats himself heavily.]
I almost fear your prophecy will come true, Ella.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Going up to him.]
You must not fear it, John. That is the best thing that can happen to you.

 

BORKMAN.
[With a shriek; clutching at his breast.]
Ah —— !
[Feebly.]
Now it let me go again.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaking him.]
What was it, John?

 

BORKMAN.
[Sinking down against the back of the seat.]
It was a hand of ice that clutched at my heart.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
John! Did you feel the ice-hand again!

 

BORKMAN.
[Murmurs.]
No. No ice-hand. It was a metal hand.
  [He sinks right down upon the bench.

 

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Tears off her cloak and throws it over him.]
Lie still where you are! I will go and bring help for you.

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