Borkman.
[Exultantly.] But they will come! They will come sure enough! You shall see! I expect them any day, any moment. And you see, I hold myself in readiness to receive them.
Foldal.
[With a sigh.] If only they would come quickly.
Borkman.
[Restlessly.] Yes, time flies: the years slip away; lifeAh, no—I dare not think of it! [Looking at him.] Do you know what I sometimes feel like?
Foldal.
What?
Borkman.
I feel like a Napoleon who has been maimed in his first battle.
Foldal.
[Placing his hand upon his portfolio.] I have that feeling too.
Borkman.
Oh, well, that is on a smaller scale, of course.
Foldal.
[Quietly.] My little world of poetry is very precious to me, John Gabriel.
Borkman.
[Vehemently.] Yes, but think of me, who could have created millions! All the mines I
