tells me that they start early to-morrow morning; quite
early.

BORKMAN.
Oh indeed--to-morrow? Does she tell you that?

FOLDAL.
[Laughing and rubbing his hands.] Yes; but I know a trick worth
two of that, you see! I am going straight up to Mrs. Wilton's----

BORKMAN.
This evening?

FOLDAL.
Oh, it's not so very late yet. And even if the house is shut
up, I shall ring; without hesitation. For I must and will see
Frida before she starts. Good-night, good-night!
[Makes a movement to go.

BORKMAN.
Stop a moment, my poor Vilhelm; you may spare yourself that
heavy bit of road.

FOLDAL.
Oh, you are thinking of my ankle----

BORKMAN.
Yes; and in any case you won't get in at Mrs. Wilton's.

FOLDAL.
Yes, indeed I will. I'll go on ringing and knocking till some
one comes and lets me in. For I must and will see Frida.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Your daughter has gone already, Mr. Foldal.

FOLDAL.
[Stands as though thunderstruck.] Has Frida gone already! Are
you quite sure? Who told you?

BORKMAN.
We had it from her future teacher.

FOLDAL.
Indeed? And who is he?

BORKMAN.
A certain Mr. Erhart Borkman.

FOLDAL.
[Beaming with joy.] Your son, John Gabriel? Is he going with
them?

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 ove