John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

BORKMAN.
[Stopping at the verge of the steep declivity on the left.]
Come here, Ella, and you shall see.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coming up to him.] What do you want to show me, John?

BORKMAN. [Pointing outwards.] Do you see how free and open the country lies before us—away to the far horizon?

ELLA RENTHEIM. We have often sat on this bench before, and looked out into a much, much further distance.

BORKMAN.
It was a dreamland we then looked out over.

ELLA RENTHEIM. [Nodding sadly.] It was the dreamland of our life, yes. And now that land is buried in snow. And the old tree is dead.

BORKMAN. [Not listening to her.] Can you see the smoke of the great steamships out on the fiord?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.

BORKMAN. I can. They come and they go. They weave a network of fellowship all round the world. They shed light and warmth over the souls of men in many thousands of homes. That was what I dreamed of doing.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Softly.] And it remained a dream.