BORKMAN.
And what did they say to you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
They gave me full assurance of what I had long suspected.
BORKMAN.
Well?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Calmly and quietly.] My illness will never be cured, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Oh, you must not believe that, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM. It is a disease that there is no help or cure for. The doctors can do nothing with it. They must just let it take its course. They cannot possibly check it; at most, they can allay the suffering. And that is always something.
BORKMAN. Oh, but it will take a long time to run its course. I am sure it will.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I may perhaps last out the winter, they told me.
BORKMAN.
[Without thinking.] Oh, well, the winter is long.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Quietly.] Long enough for me, at any rate.