Rosmer. I know—that is true enough. And then comes this overwhelming blow.
Rebecca (standing behind him, with her arms on the back of his chair). How beautiful it was when we used to sit there downstairs in the dusk—and helped each other to plan our lives out afresh. You wanted to catch hold of actual life—the actual life of the day, as you used to say. You wanted to pass from house to house like a guest who brought emancipation with him—to win over men's thoughts and wills to your own—to fashion noble men all around you, in a wider and wider circle—noble men!
Rosmer. Noble men and happy men.
Rebecca. Yes, happy men.
Rosmer. Because it is happiness that gives the soul nobility, Rebecca.
Rebecca. Do you not think suffering too? The deepest suffering?
Rosmer. Yes, if one can win through it—conquer it—conquer it completely.
Rebecca. That is what you must do.
Rosmer (shaking his head sadly). I shall never conquer this completely. There will always be a doubt confronting me—a question. I shall never again be able to lose myself in the enjoyment of what makes life so wonderfully beautiful.
Rebecca (speaking over the back of his chair, softly). What do you mean, John?