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?
