FOLDAL.
[Looking up.] Good heavens, are you out on the steps, John
Gabriel? [Bowing.] And Mrs. Borkman, too, I see.
BORKMAN.
[Shortly.] This is not Mrs. Borkman.
FOLDAL. Oh, I beg pardon. You see, I have lost my spectacles in the snow. But how is it that you, who never put your foot out of doors——?
BORKMAN. [Carelessly and gaily.] It is high time I should come out into the open air again, don't you see? Nearly three years in detention—five years in prison—eight years in the gallery up there——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Distressed.] Borkman, I beg you——
FOLDAL.
Ah yes, yes, yes!
BORKMAN.
But I want to know what has brought you here.
FOLDAL.
[Still standing at the foot of the steps.] I wanted to come up
to you, John Gabriel. I felt I must come to you, in the gallery.
Ah me, that gallery——!
BORKMAN.
Did you want to come up to me after I had shown you the door?
FOLDAL.
Oh, I couldn't let that stand in the way.