Rebecca. But I am under the influence of the Rosmersholm view of Life—now. Whatever my offences are—it is right that I should expiate them.
Rosmer (looking at her fixedly). Have you come to that decision?
Rebecca. Yes.
Rosmer. Very well. Then I too am under the influence of our unfettered view of life, Rebecca. There is no one that can judge us. And therefore we must be our own judges.
Rebecca (misunderstanding his meaning). That too. That too. My leaving you will save the best that is in you.
Rosmer. Ah, there is nothing left to save in me.
Rebecca. There is. But I—after this I should only be like some sea-sprite hanging on to the barque you are striving to sail forward in, and, hampering its progress. I must go overboard. Do you think I could go through the world bearing the burden of a spoiled life—brooding for ever over the happiness which I have forfeited by my past? I must throw up the game, John.
Rosmer. If you go—then I go with you.
Rebecca (looks at him with an almost imperceptible smile, and says more gently): Yes, come with me, dear—and be witness—
Rosmer. I go with you, I said.