John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

FOLDAL.
Good evening, John Gabriel. Yes, you see it is me.

BORKMAN.
[With a stern glance.] I must say you are rather a late visitor.

FOLDAL. Well, you know, it's a good bit of a way, especially when you have to trudge it on foot.

BORKMAN. But why do you always walk, Vilhelm? The tramway passes your door.

FOLDAL.
It's better for you to walk—and then you always save twopence.
Well, has Frida been playing to you lately?

BORKMAN.
She has just this moment gone. Did you not meet her outside?

FOLDAL. No, I have seen nothing of her for a long time; not since she went to live with this Mrs. Wilton.

BORKMAN.
[Seating himself on the sofa and waving his hand toward a chair.]
You may sit down, Vilhelm.

FOLDAL. [Seating himself on the edge of a chair.] Many thanks. [Looks mournfully at him.] You can't think how lonely I feel since Frida left home.

BORKMAN.
Oh, come—you have plenty left.