. And therefore he is as good as dead to you--and you to
him.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coldly, with resolution.] We shall see. For now I shall remain
out here.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Stares at her.] Here? In this house?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, here.

MRS. BORKMAN.
Here--with us? Remain all night?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
I shall remain here all the rest of my days if need be.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Collecting herself.] Very well, Ella; the house is yours----

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, nonsense----

MRS. BORKMAN.
Everything is yours. The chair I am sitting in is yours. The
bed I lie and toss in at night belongs to you. The food we eat
comes to us from you.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
It can't be arranged otherwise, you know. Borkman can hold no
property of his own; for some one would at once come and take it
from him.

MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I know. We must be content to live upon your pity and
charity.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coldly.] I cannot prevent you from looking at it in that
light, Gunhild.

MRS. BORKMAN.
No, you cannot. When do you want us to move out?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at her.] Move out?

MRS. BORKMAN.
[In great excitement.] Yes; you don't imagine that I will go
on living under the same roof with you! I tell you, I would
rather go to the workhouse or tramp the roads!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Good. Then let me take Erhart with me----

MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart? My own son? My child?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes; for then I would go straight home again.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[After reflecting a moment, firmly.] Erhart himself shall choose
between us.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking doubtfully and hesitatingly at her.] He choose? Dare
you risk that, Gunhild?

MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a hard laugh.] Dare I? Let my boy choose between his
mother and you? Yes, indeed I dare!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Listening.] Is there some one coming? I thought I heard----

MRS. BORKMAN.
Then it must be Erhart.

[There is a sharp knock at the door leading in from the hall,
which is immediately opened. MRS. WILTON enters, in
evening dress, and with outer wraps. She is followed by
THE MAID, who has not had time to announce her, and looks
bewildered. The door remains half open. MRS. WILTON is
a strikingly handsome, well-developed woman in the
thirties. Broad, red, smiling lips, sparkling eyes.
Luxuriant dark hair.

MRS. WILTON.
Good evening, my deares