ERHART.
[With an outburst.] Oh, say rather what you have consecrated my life to. You, you have been my will. You have never given me leave to have any of my own. But now I cannot bear this yoke any longer. I am young; remember that, mother. [With a polite, considerate glance towards BORKMAN.] I cannot consecrate my life to making atonement for another--whoever that other may be.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Seized with growing anxiety.] Who is it that has transformed you, Erhart?
ERHART.
[Struck.] Who? Can you not conceive that it is I myself?
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no, no! You have come under some strange power. You are not in your mother"s power any longer; nor in your--your foster-mother"s either.
ERHART.
[With laboured defiance.] I am in my own power, mother! And working my own will!
BORKMAN.
[Advancing towards ERHART.] Then perhaps my hour has come at last.
ERHART.
[Distantly and with measured politeness.] How so! How do you mean, sir?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Scornfully.] Yes, you may well ask that.
BORKMAN.
[Continuing undisturbed.] Listen, Erhart--will you not cast in your lot with your father? It is not through any other man"s life that a man who has fallen can be raised up again. These are only empty fables that have been told to you down here in the airless room. If you were to set yourself to live your life like all the saints together, it would be of no use whatever to me.
ERHART.
[With measured respectfulness.] That is very true indeed.
BORKMAN.
Yes, it is. And it would be of no use either if I should resign myself to wither away in abject penitence. I have tried to feed myself upon hopes and dreams, all through these years. But I am not the man to be content with that; and now I mean to have done with dreaming.
ERHART.
[With a slight bow.] And what will--what will you do, sir?
BORKMAN.
I will work out my own redemption, that is what I will do. I will begin at the bottom again. It is only through his present and his future that a man can atone for his past. Through work, indefatigable work, for all that, in my youth, seemed to give life its meaning--and that now seems a thousand times greater than it did then. Erhart, will you join with me and help me in this new life?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Raising her hand warningly.] Do not do it, Erhart!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Warmly.] Yes, yes do it! Oh, help him, Erhart!
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you advise him to do that? You, the lonely dying woman.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I don"t care about myself.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, so long as it is not I that take him from you.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Precisely so, Gunhild.
BORKMAN.
Will you, Erhart?
ERHART.
[Wrung with pain.] Father, I cannot now. It is utterly impossible!
BORKMAN.
What do you want to do then?
ERHART.
[With a sudden glow.] I am young! I want to live, for once in a way, as well as other people! I want to live my own life!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You cannot give up two or three little months to brighten the close of a poor waning life?
ERHART.
I cannot, Aunt, however much I may wish to.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not for the sake of one who loves you so dearly?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking sharply at him.] And your mother has no power over you either, any more?
ERHART.
I will always love you, mother; but I cannot go on living for you alone. This is no life for me.
BORKMAN.
Then come and join with me, after all! For life, life means work, Erhart. Come, we two will go forth into life and work together!
ERHART.
[Pa.s.sionately.] Yes, but I don"t want to work now! For I am young! That"s what I never realised before; but now the knowledge is tingling through every vein in my body. I will not work! I will only live, live, live!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a cry of divination.] Erhart, what will you live for?
ERHART.
[With sparkling eyes.] For happiness, mother!
MRS. BORKMAN.
And where do you think you can find that?