Rebecca. Yes, because I dare say it was a little presumptuous of me, but—
Rosmer. Well, let me hear what it was.
Rebecca. Last night, when that Ulrick Brendel was going, I wrote him a line or two to take to Mortensgaard.
Rosmer (a little doubtfully). But, my dear Rebecca—What did you write, then?
Rebecca. I wrote that he would be doing you a service if he would interest himself a little in that unfortunate man, and help him in any way he could.
Rosmer. My dear, you should not have done that. You have only done Brendel harm by doing so. And besides, Mortensgaard is a man I particularly wish to have nothing to do with. You know I have been at loggerheads once with him already.
Rebecca. But do you not think that now it might be a very good thing if you got on to good terms with him again?
Rosmer. I? With Mortensgaard? For what reason, do you mean?
Rebecca. Well, because you cannot feel altogether secure now—since this has come between you and your friends.
Rosmer (looking at her and shaking his head). Is it possible that you think either Kroll or any of the others would take a revenge on me—that they could be capable of—