Oh, indeed? [Takes the paper and reads, standing by the table.]—What!—“We cannot warn our readers too earnestly against unprincipled renegades.” [Looks at her.] They call me a renegade, Rebecca.
Rebecca.
They mention no names.
Rosmer.
That makes no difference. [Reads on.] “Secret traitors to the good cause.”—“Judas-natures, who make brazen confession of their apostasy as soon as they think the most convenient and—profitable moment has arrived.” “Ruthless befouling of a name honoured through generations”—“in the confident hope of a suitable reward from the party in momentary power.” [Lays down the paper on the table.] And they can say such things of me!—Men who have known me so long and so well! Things they themselves don’t believe. Things they know there is not a word of truth in—they print them all the same.
Rebecca.
That is not all.
Rosmer.
[Takes up the paper again.] “Inexperience and lack of judgment the only excuse”—“pernicious influence—possibly extending to matters which, for the present, we do not wish to make subjects of public discussion or accusation.” [Looks at her.] What is this?
Rebecca.