Erhart.
There are bright lights down there, and young, happy faces; and there’s music there, mother!
Mrs. Borkman.
[Pointing upwards.] There is music here, too, Erhart.
Erhart.
Yes, it’s just that music that drives me out of the house.
Ella Rentheim.
Do you grudge your father a moment of self-forgetfulness?
Erhart.
No, I don’t. I’m very, very glad that he should have it—if only I don’t have to listen.