I thought I might call it loving you--then. I thought it
was love. But it was not. It was what I have said--a wild,
uncontrollable passion.
Rosmer (speaking with difficulty). Rebecca--is it really you-you-
who are sitting here telling me this?
Rebecca. Yes, indeed it is, John.
Rosmer. Then it was as the outcome of this--and under the
influence of this--that you "acted," as you called it.
Rebecca. It swept over me like a storm over the sea--like one of
the storms we have in winter in the north. They catch you up and
rush you along with them, you know, until their fury is expended.
There is no withstanding them.
Rosmer. So it swept poor unhappy Beata into the mill-race.
Rebecca. Yes--it was like a fight for life between Beata and me at
that time.
Rosmer. You proved the strongest of us all at Rosmersholm--
stronger than both Beata and me put together.
Rebecca. I knew you well enough to know that I could not get at
you in any way until you were set free--both in actual
circumstances and in your soul.
Rosmer. But I do not understand you, Rebecca. You--you yourself
and your whole conduct--are an insoluble riddle to me. I am free
now--both in my soul and my circumstances. You are absolutely in
touch with the goal you set before yourself from the beginning.
And nevertheless--
Rebecca. I have never stood farther from my goal than I do now.
Rosmer.
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