FOLDAL. But he rose high in the world. BORKMAN. And I fell into the abyss. FOLDAL. Oh, it's a terrible tragedy---- BORKMAN. [Nodding to him.] Almost as terrible as yours, I fancy, when I come to think of it. FOLDAL. [Naively.] Yes, at least as terrible. BORKMAN. [Laughing quietly.] But looked at from another point of view, it is really a sort of comedy as well. FOLDAL. A comedy? The story of your life? BORKMAN. Yes, it seems to be taking a turn in that direction. For let me tell you---- FOLDAL. What? BORKMAN. You say you did not meet Frida as you came in? FOLDAL. No. BORKMAN. At this moment, as we sit here, she is playing waltzes for the guests of the man who betrayed and ruined me. FOLDAL. I hadn't the least idea of that. BORKMAN. Yes, she took her music, and went straight from me to--to the great house. FOLDAL. [Apologetically.] Well, you see, poor child----