Robert.
Oh, we don’t affect each other as you seem to think, and, besides, if you imagine he is going to be overcome by a subtle emotion on first entering here—
Mrs Buchner.
Your brother is so good—a really fine character!—He must have fought a great fight before bringing himself to this point. He is coming with an intense desire for reconciliation, that I can assure you!
Robert.
I can’t understand all that. Reconciled—to what?—That’s what I can’t see. As a rule, we understand one another fairly well in this family. But this is quite beyond me! I’ve nothing to say against him, but on the other hand there’s no disguising facts.—I ask you—do you imagine that I have any exaggerated respect for my father?—Of course not.—Or that I have any—love—for him?—Or any childlike feeling of gratitude?—You see, I haven’t the slightest reason for any such feeling. In all our lives, the most that we have ever been to each other, has been a source of amusement. At moments, when we have blamed each other for our common unhappiness, we have actually hated each other. Well, between father and William this same hatred grew. That I understand well enough. That I haven’t done what William did is perhaps an accident. So I have nothing against him—nota bene, so long as I don’t see him. But if I see him, then all my logic goes to the devil, for I am rather,—rather—h’m, what shall I say?—Well, then I only see the man who has struck my father, not his, but my father, struck him in the face!
Mrs Buchner.
Oh my God!—
Robert.
And then I can answer for nothing—you see?—absolutely for nothing.