Foldal.
What is the worst of all then, John Gabriel?
Borkman.
[With emphasis.] The most infamous of crimes is a friend’s betrayal of his friend’s confidence.
Foldal.
[Somewhat doubtfully.] Yes, but you know——
Borkman.
[Firing up.] What are you going to say? I see it in your face. But it is of no use. The people who had their securities in the bank should have got them all back again—every farthing. No; I tell you the most infamous crime a man can commit is to misuse a friend’s letters; to publish to all the world what has been confided to him alone, in the closest secrecy, like a whisper in an empty, dark, double-locked room. The man who can do such things is infected and poisoned in every fibre with the morals of the higher rascality. And such a friend was mine—and it was he who crushed me.
Foldal.
I can guess whom you mean.