BORKMAN. [Stopping in front of him.] You are quite right in what you said just now—you have not made any career. But I promise you this, Vilhelm, that when once the hour of my restoration strikes——
FOLDAL.
[Making a movement to rise.] Oh, thanks, thanks!
BORKMAN. [Waving his hand.] No, please be seated. [With rising excitement.] When the hour of my restoration strikes—when they see that they cannot get on without me—when they come to me, here in the gallery, and crawl to my feet, and beseech me to take the reins of the bank again——! The new bank, that they have founded and can't carry on—— [Placing himself beside the writing-table in the same attitude as before, and striking his breast.] Here I shall stand, and receive them! And it shall be known far and wide, all the country over, what conditions John Gabriel Borkman imposes before he will—— [Stopping suddenly and staring at FOLDAL.] You're looking so doubtfully at me! Perhaps you do not believe that they will come? That they must, must, must come to me some day? Do you not believe it?
FOLDAL.
Yes, Heaven knows I do, John Gabriel.
BORKMAN. [Seating himself again on the sofa.] I firmly believe it. I am immovably convinced—I know that they will come. If I had not been certain of that I would have put a bullet through my head long ago.
FOLDAL.
[Anxiously.] Oh no, for Heaven's sake——!
BORKMAN.
[Exultantly.] But they will come! They will come sure enough!
You shall see! I expect them any day, any moment. And you see,
I hold myself in readiness to receive them.
FOLDAL.
[With a sigh.] If only they would come quickly.
BORKMAN.
[Restlessly.] Yes, time flies: the years slip away; life——
Ah, no—I dare not think of it! [Looking at him.] Do you know
what I sometimes feel like?
FOLDAL.
What?