BORKMAN. [In a gentler tone.] Well, you know, I don't pretend to know much about these matters. FOLDAL. Perhaps you know more than you think. BORKMAN. I? FOLDAL. [Softly.] Yes, you. For I myself have had my doubts, now and then, I may tell you. The horrible doubt that I may have bungled my life for the sake of a delusion. BORKMAN. If you have no faith in yourself, you are on the downward path indeed. FOLDAL. That was why I found such comfort in coming here to lean upon your faith in me. [Taking his hat.] But now you have become a stranger to me. BORKMAN. And you to me. FOLDAL. Good night, John Gabriel. BORKMAN. Good night, Vilhelm. [Foldal goes out to the left. [BORKMAN stands for a moment gazing at the closed door; makes a movement as though to call FOLDAL back, but changes his mind, and begins to pace the floor with his hands behind his back. Then he stops at the table beside the sofa and puts out the lamp. The room becomes half dark. After a short pause, there comes a knock at the tapestry door. BORKMAN. [At the table, starts, turns, and asks in a loud voice:] Who is that knocking? [No answer, another knock. BORKMAN. [Without moving.] Who is it? Come in! [ELLA RENTHEIM, with a lighted candle in her hand, appears in the doorway. She wears her black dress, as before, with