But their correspondence had gone on without any cessation. They had remained constantly in communication by letter. They exchanged full confidences in regard to all their labors and plans; they shared their views over all external happenings; but they never actually wrote any personal confidences. His poems and her lectures formed the chief topics of their correspondence; as colleagues they had become strongly bound together; as man and woman they had remained rather like strangers, although their letters had always preserved that soul-relationship of brother and sister with which their correspondence had begun. It was for both a great and genuine pleasure to be invited together as Mr. John A. Toker’s guests; it gave to the festivities of this week a flavor of intimacy. During these days they had seen a good deal of each other,—every time he had been her seat-mate at table,—and they had told each other all that was worth telling of their lives during the past two years.
“So I look sad, do I?” replied Franka to Helmer’s observation. “And yet I have no sorrow; I am not unhappy.”
“That is only a negative assurance—you do not say that you feel happy. But I can imagine what you lack....”
“And I can guess what you imagine.... Well, it is true that in the life that I am leading there is more or less renunciation; but isn’t that necessary whenever one dedicates one’s self to any impersonal service? How is it when a maiden devoted to piety takes the veil?”
“Fortunately you have registered no vow, Franka. You can always....”
“Marry, do you mean? Let us talk of something else. You are the last person to say such things to me.”
“It is true, I myself directed you to the path of renunciation. As long as your task completely occupied you—but does it still?”
“Do not ask me such confessional questions. The task is great enough to fill any life; but I often feel myself too small for the task. Are you quite satisfied, are you quite happy, Helmer?”
“No; but that is not at all necessary. I believe that no man has any rightful claim to be. Least of all, we fighters. We need bitterness, hindrances—our goal must forever seem farther away from us.”
At this instant the daughter of their host joined them:—