John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

MRS. BORKMAN.
Worse than terrible—almost unendurable.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it must be.

MRS. BORKMAN. Always to hear his footsteps up there—from early morning till far into the night. And everything sounds so clear in this house!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is strange how clear the sound is.

MRS. BORKMAN.
I often feel as if I had a sick wolf pacing his cage up there in
the gallery, right over my head. [Listens and whispers.] Hark!
Do you hear! Backwards and forwards, up and down, goes the wolf.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Tentatively.] Is no change possible, Gunhild?

MRS. BORKMAN. [With a gesture of repulsion.] He has never made any movement towards a change.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Could you not make the first movement, then?

MRS. BORKMAN. [Indignantly.] I! After all the wrong he has done me! No thank you! Rather let the wolf go on prowling up there.

ELLA RENTHEIM. This room is too hot for me. You must let me take off my things after all.