Rosmer. Alas, you are right in that.

Rebecca. When it came about that I was living together with you here, in peace and solitude--when you exchanged all your thoughts with me unreservedly--your every mood, however tender or intimate--then the great change happened in me. Little by little, you understand. Almost imperceptibly--but overwhelmingly in the end, till it reached the uttermost depths of my soul.

Rosmer. What does this mean, Rebecca?

Rebecca. All the other feeling--all that horrible pa.s.sion that had drowned my better self--left me entirely. All the violent emotions that had been roused in me were quelled and silenced. A peace stole over my soul--a quiet like that of one of our mountain peaks up under the midnight sun.

Rosmer. Tell me more of it--all that you can.

Rebecca. There is not much more to tell. Only that this was how love grew up in my heart--a great, self-denying love--content with such a union of hearts as there has been between us two.

Rosmer. Oh, if only I had had the slightest suspicion of all this!

Rebecca. It is best as it is. Yesterday, when you asked me if I would be your wife, I gave a cry of joy--

Rosmer. Yes, it was that, Rebecca, was it not! I thought that was what it meant.

Rebecca. For a moment, yes-I forgot myself for a moment. It was my dauntless will of the old days that was struggling to be free again.

But now it has no more strength--it has lost it for ever.

Rosmer. How do you explain what has taken place in you?

Rebecca. It is the Rosmer att.i.tude towards life-or your att.i.tude towards life, at any rate--that has infected my will.

Rosmer. Infected?

Rebecca. Yes, and made it sickly--bound it captive under laws that formerly had no meaning for me. You--my life together with you--have enn.o.bled my soul--

Rosmer. Ah, if I dared believe that to be true!

Rebecca. You may believe it confidently. The Rosmer att.i.tude towards life enn.o.bles. But-(shakes her head)-but-but--

Rosmer. But? Well?

Rebecca. But it kills joy, you know.

Rosmer. Do you say that, Rebecca?

Rebecca. For me, at all events.

Rosmer. Yes, but are you so sure of that? If I asked you again now--?

Implored you--?

Rebecca. Oh, my dear--never go back to that again! It is impossible.

Yes, impossible--because I must tell you this, John. I have a--past behind me.

Rosmer. Something more than you have told me?

Rebecca. Yes, something more and something different.

Rosmer (with a faint smile). It is very strange, Rebecca, but--do you know--the idea of such a thing has occurred to me more than once.

Rebecca. It has? And yet--notwithstanding that, you--?

Rosmer. I never believed in it. I only played with the idea-nothing more.

Rebecca. If you wish, I will tell you all about it at once.

Rosmer (stopping her). No, no! I do not want to hear a word about it.

Whatever it is, it shall be forgotten, as far as I am concerned.

Rebecca. But I cannot forget it.

Rosmer. Oh, Rebecca--!

Rebecca. Yes, dear--that is just the dreadful part of it-that now, when all the happiness of life is freely and fully offered to me, all I can feel is that I am barred out from it by my past.

Rosmer. Your past is dead, Rebecca. It has no longer any hold on you--has nothing to do with you--as you are now.

Rebecca. Ah, my dear, those are mere words, you know. What about innocence, then? Where am I to get that from?

Rosmer (gloomily). Ah, yes--innocence.

Rebecca. Yes, innocence--which is at the root of all joy and happiness.

That was the teaching, you know, that you wanted to see realised by all the men you were going to raise up to n.o.bility and happiness.

Rosmer. Ah, do not remind me of that. It was nothing but a half-dreamt dream, Rebecca--a rash suggestion that I have no longer any faith in.

Human nature cannot be enn.o.bled by outside influences, believe me.

Rebecca (gently). Not by a tranquil love, do you think?

Rosmer (thoughtfully). Yes, that would be a splendid thing--almost the most glorious thing in life, I think if it were so. (Moves restlessly.) But how am I ever to clear up the question?--how am I to get to the bottom of it?

Rebecca. Do you not believe in me, John?

Rosmer. Ah, Rebecca, how can I believe you entirely--you whose life here has been nothing but continual concealment and secrecy!--And now you have this new tale to tell. If it is cloaking some design of yours, tell me so--openly. Perhaps there is something or other that you hope to gain by that means? I will gladly do anything that I can for you.

Rebecca (wringing her hands). Oh, this killing doubt! John, John--!

Rosmer. Yes, I know, dear--it is horrible--but I cannot help it. I shall never be able to free myself from it--never be able to feel certain that your love for me is genuine and pure.

Rebecca. But is there nothing in your own heart that bears witness to the transformation that has taken place in me--and taken place through your influence, and yours alone!

Rosmer. Ah, my dear, I do not believe any longer in my power to transform people. I have no belief in myself left at all. I do not believe either in myself or in you.

Rebecca (looking darkly at him). How are you going to live out your life, then?

Rosmer. That is just what I do not know--and cannot imagine. I do not believe I can live it out. And, moreover, I do not know anything in the world that would be worth living for.