ELLA RENTHEIM. It is only a dream that you cherish. For if you hadn't that to cling to, you feel that you would utterly despair. MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, indeed I should despair. [Vehemently.] And I daresay that is what you would like to see, Ella! ELLA RENTHEIM. [With head erect.] Yes, I would rather see that than see you "redeem" yourself at Erhart's expense. MRS. BORKMAN. [Threateningly.] You want to come between us? Between mother and son? You? ELLA RENTHEIM. I want to free him from your power--your will--your despotism. MRS. BORKMAN. [Triumphantly.] You are too late! You had him in your nets all these years--until he was fifteen. But now I have won him again, you see! ELLA RENTHEIM. Then I will win him back from you! [Hoarsely, half whispering.] We two have fought a life-and-death battle before, Gunhild--for a man's soul! MRS. BORKMAN. [Looking at her in triumph.] Yes, and I won the victory. ELLA RENTHEIM. [With a smile of scorn.] Do you still think that victory was worth the winning? MRS. BORKMAN. [Darkly.] No; Heaven knows you are right there. ELLA RENTHEIM. You need look for no victory worth the winning this time either. MRS. BORKMAN. Not when I am fighting to preserve a mother's power over my son! ELLA RENTHEIM. No; for it is only power over him that you want. MRS. BORKMAN. And you?