Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/355

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John Gabriel Borkman. He could not live in the fresh air.

Ella Rentheim.

It was rather the cold that killed him.

Mrs. Borkman.

[Shakes her head.] The cold, you say? The cold—that had killed him long ago. Ella Rentheim. [Nodding to her.] Yes—and changed us two into shadows. Mrs. Borkman. You are right there. Ella Rentheim. [With a painful smile.] A dead man and two shadows—that is what the cold has made of us. Mrs. Borkman. Yes, the coldness of heart.—And now I think we two may hold out our hands to each other, Ella. Ella Rentheim. I think we may, now. Mrs. Borkman. We twin sisters—over him we have both loved. Ella Rentheim. We two shadows—over the dead man. [Mrs. Borkman behind the bench, and Ella Rentheim in front of it, take each other's hand.