ERHART.
[To MRS. BORKMAN.] Mother—I beg and implore you—let me go!
MRS. BORKMAN. [Looks hardly at him.] Away from your mother? So that is what you want to do?
ERHART.
Of course I'll come out again—to-morrow perhaps.
MRS. BORKMAN. [With passionate emotion.] You want to go away from me! To be with those strange people! With—with—no, I will not even think of it!
ERHART. There are bright lights down there, and young, happy faces; and there's music there, mother!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Pointing upwards.] There is music here, too, Erhart.
ERHART.
Yes, it's just that music that drives me out of the house.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you grudge your father a moment of self-forgetfulness?
ERHART. No, I don't. I'm very, very glad that he should have it—if only I don't have to listen.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Looking solemnly at him.] Be strong, Erhart! Be strong, my son! Do not forget that you have your great mission.