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Ella Rentheim.
[Looking far away.] Perhaps it is the lack of love that keeps that power alive. Mrs. Borkman. [Fixing her eyes on her.] If that is so, then I shall soon be as rich as you, Ella. [She turns and goes into the house.
Ella Rentheim.
[Stands for a time looking with a troubled expression at Borkman; then lays her hand cautiously upon his shoulder.] Come, John—you must come in, too.
Borkman.
[As if awakening.] I?
Ella Rentheim.
Yes, this winter air is too keen for you; I can see that, John. So come—come in with me—into the house, into the warmth.
Borkman.
[Angrily.] Up to the gallery again, I suppose.
Ella Rentheim.
No, rather into the room below.
Borkman.
[His anger-flaming forth.] Never will I set foot under that roof again!
