BORKMAN.

[Growling, resumes his seat.] Well, that is a good thing, at any rate.

FOLDAL.

Besides, you mustn't think it is my wife that I complain of. It is true she has not much polish, poor thing; but she is a good sort of woman all the same. No, it's the children.

BORKMAN.

I thought as much.

FOLDAL.

For the children--well, they have more culture and therefore they expect more of life.

BORKMAN.

[Looking at him sympathetically.] And so your children despise you, Vilhelm?

FOLDAL.

[Shrugging his shoulders.] I haven't made much of a career, you see--there is no denying that.

BORKMAN.

[Moving nearer to him, and laying his hand upon his arm.] Do they not know, then, that in your young days you wrote a tragedy?

FOLDAL.

Yes, of course they know that. But it doesn't seem to make much impression on them.

BORKMAN.

Then they don't understand these things. For your tragedy is good. I am firmly convinced of that.

FOLDAL.

[Brightening up.] Yes, don't you think there are some good things in it, John Gabriel? Good G.o.d, if I could only manage to get it placed----! [Opens his portfolio, and begins eagerly turning over the contents.] Look here! Just let me show you one or two alterations I have made.

BORKMAN.

Have you it with you?

FOLDAL.

Yes, I thought I would bring it. It's so long now since I have read it to you. And I thought perhaps it might amuse you to hear an act or two.

BORKMAN.

[Rising, with a negative gesture.] No, no, we will keep that for another time.

FOLDAL.

Well, well, as you please.

[BORKMAN paces up and down the room. FOLDAL puts the ma.n.u.script up again.

BORKMAN.

[Stopping in front of him.] You are quite right in what you said just now--you have not made any career. But I promise you this, Vilhelm, that when once the hour of my restoration strikes----

FOLDAL.

[Making a movement to rise.] Oh, thanks, thanks!

BORKMAN.

[Waving his hand.] No, please be seated. [With rising excitement.] When the hour of my restoration strikes--when they see that they cannot get on without me--when they come to me, here in the gallery, and crawl to my feet, and beseech me to take the reins of the bank again----! The new bank, that they have founded and can't carry on---- [Placing himself beside the writing-table in the same att.i.tude as before, and striking his breast.] Here I shall stand, and receive them! And it shall be known far and wide, all the country over, what conditions John Gabriel Borkman imposes before he will---- [Stopping suddenly and staring at FOLDAL.] You're looking so doubtfully at me! Perhaps you do not believe that they will come? That they must, must, must come to me some day? Do you not believe it?

FOLDAL.

Yes, Heaven knows I do, John Gabriel.

BORKMAN.

[Seating himself again on the sofa.] I firmly believe it. I am immovably convinced--I know that they will come. If I had not been certain of that I would have put a bullet through my head long ago.

FOLDAL.

[Anxiously.] Oh no, for Heaven's sake----!

BORKMAN.

[Exultantly.] But they will come! They will come sure enough!

You shall see! I expect them any day, any moment. And you see, I hold myself in readiness to receive them.

FOLDAL.

[With a sigh.] If only they would come quickly.

BORKMAN.

[Restlessly.] Yes, time flies: the years slip away; life---- Ah, no--I dare not think of it! [Looking at him.] Do you know what I sometimes feel like?

FOLDAL.

What?

BORKMAN.

I feel like a Napoleon who has been maimed in his first battle.

FOLDAL.

[Placing his hand upon his portfolio.] I have that feeling too.

BORKMAN.

Oh, well, that is on a smaller scale, of course.

FOLDAL.

[Quietly.] My little world of poetry is very precious to me, John Gabriel.

BORKMAN.

[Vehemently.] Yes, but think of me, who could have created millions! All the mines I should have controlled! New veins innumerable! And the water-falls! And the quarries! And the trade routes, and the steamship-lines all the wide world over!

I would have organised it all--I alone!

FOLDAL.

Yes, I know, I know. There was nothing in the world you would have shrunk from.

BORKMAN.

[Clenching his hands together.] And now I have to sit here, like a wounded eagle, and look on while others pa.s.s me in the race, and take everything away from me, piece by piece!

FOLDAL.

That is my fate too.