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 attitude towards life-or your attitude 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 ennobled my soul—
Rosmer. Ah, if I dared believe that to be true!