John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

ELLA RENTHEIM.
So it appears.

MRS. BORKMAN.
——strong man that he was.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coming in front of the bench.] Will you not look at him,
Gunhild?

MRS. BORKMAN. [With a gesture of repulsion.] No, no, no. [Lowering her voice.] He was a miner's son, John Gabriel Borkman. He could not live in the fresh air.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
It was rather the cold that killed him.

MRS. BORKMAN. [Shakes her head.] The cold, you say? The cold—that had killed him long ago.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding to her.] Yes—and changed us two into shadows.

MRS. BORKMAN.
You are right there.

ELLA RENTHEIM. [With a painful smile.] A dead man and two shadows—that is what the cold has made of us.

MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, the coldness of heart.—And now I think we two may hold out our hands to each other, Ella.