And nevertheless, I say, when yesterday I asked you--urged
you--to become my wife, you cried out that it never could be.
Rebecca. I cried out in despair, John.
Rosmer. Why?
Rebecca. Because Rosmersholm has unnerved me. All the courage has
been sapped out of my will here--crushed out! The time has gone
for me to dare risk anything whatever. I have lost all power of
action, John.
Rosmer. Tell me how that has come about.
Rebecca. It has come about through my living with you.
Rosmer. But how? How?
Rebecca. When I was alone with you here--and you had really found
yourself--
Rosmer. Yes, yes?
Rebecca. For you never really found yourself as long as Beata was
Alive--
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 passion 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.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115