[With a shriek; clutching at his breast.] Ah——! [Feebly.] Now it let me go again.
Ella Rentheim.
[Shaking him.] What was it, John?
Borkman.
[Sinking down against the back of the seat.] It was a hand of ice that clutched at my heart.
Ella Rentheim.
John! Did you feel the ice-hand again!
Borkman.
[Murmurs.] No. No ice-hand. It was a metal hand.
[He sinks right down upon the bench.