John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

MRS. BORKMAN.
I am always cold.

ELLA RENTHEIM. [Stands looking at her for a time with her arms resting on the back of the armchair.] Well, Gunhild, it is nearly eight years now since we saw each other last.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Coldly.] Since last we spoke to each other at any rate.

ELLA RENTHEIM. True, since we spoke to each other. I daresay you have seen me now and again—when I came on my yearly visit to the bailiff.

MRS. BORKMAN.
Once or twice, I have.

ELLA RENTHEIM. I have caught one or two glimpses of you, too—there, at the window.

MRS. BORKMAN. You must have seen me through the curtains then. You have good eyes. [Harshly and cuttingly.] But the last time we spoke to each other—it was here in this room——

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Trying to stop her.] Yes, yes; I know, Gunhild!

MRS. BORKMAN.
—the week before he—before he was let out.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Moving towards the back.] O, don't speak about that.