John Gabriel Borkman

by Henrik Ibsen

BORKMAN. What do you think of that, Vilhelm? My son is down there in the whirl of the dance this evening. Am I not right in calling it a comedy?

FOLDAL.
But in that case you may be sure he knows nothing about it.

BORKMAN.
What does he know?

FOLDAL.
You may be sure he doesn't know how he—that man——

BORKMAN.
Do not shrink from his name. I can quite well bear it now.

FOLDAL.
I'm certain your son doesn't know the circumstances, John Gabriel.

BORKMAN. [Gloomily, sitting and beating the table.] Yes, he knows, as surely as I am sitting here.

FOLDAL.
Then how can he possibly be a guest in that house?

BORKMAN. [Shaking his head.] My son probably does not see things with my eyes. I'll take my oath he is on my enemies' side! No doubt he thinks, as they do, that Hinkel only did his confounded duty when he went and betrayed me.

FOLDAL. But, my dear friend, who can have got him to see things in that light?