Ella Rentheim.
The doors are closed upon him long ago, believe me.
Mrs. Borkman.
[In despair.] If he is in the sledge, then he is there with her, with her—her!
Borkman.
[Laughing gloomily.] Then he probably won’t hear his mother’s cry.
Mrs. Borkman.
No, he will not hear it. [Listening.] Hark! what is that?
Ella Rentheim.
[Also listening.] It sounds like sledge-bells.