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Mrs. Borkman.
It wouldn't greatly matter, I should say.
Ella Rentheim.
[Taking her outdoor things upon her arm.] For the first time in our lives, we twin sisters are of one mind. Good-night, Gunhild. [She goes out by the hall. The music sounds louder from above.
Mrs. Borkman.
[Stands still for a moment, starts, shrinks together, and whispers involuntarily.] The wolf is whining again—the sick wolf. [She stands still for a moment, then flings herself down on the floor, writhing in agony and whispering:] Erhart! Erhart—be true to me! Oh, come home and help your mother! For I can bear this life no longer!
