ERHART.
[Involuntarily.] Oh, that! [Collecting himself.] Well, you
wouldn't have me sit here and keep Aunt Ella up half the night?
Remember, she's an invalid, mother.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You are going to the Hinkels', Erhart!
ERHART. [Impatiently.] Well, really, mother, I don't think I can well get out of it. What do you say, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I should like you to feel quite free, Erhart.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Goes up to her menacingly.] You want to take him away from me!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Rising.] Yes, if only I could, Gunhild!
[Music is heard from above.
ERHART. [Writhing as if in pain.] Oh, I can't endure this! [Looking round.] What have I done with my hat? [To ELLA RENTHEIM.] Do you know the air that she is playing up there?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No. What is it?
ERHART. It's the Danse Macabre—the Dance of Death! Don't you know the Dance of Death, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Smiling sadly.] Not yet, Erhart.