That makes no difference, Boletta. Your image—as it dwells in my heart—will always remain coloured and thrown into relief by the feeling that mistake aroused in me. Perhaps you cannot understand this; but so it is.
Boletta.
I never dreamed that anything of the kind was possible.
Arnholm.
But now that you see it is——? What do you say, Boletta? Can you not make up your mind to—to be my wife?
Boletta.
Oh, it seems so utterly impossible, Mr. Arnholm. You, who have been my teacher! I cannot imagine myself standing in any other kind of relation to you.
Arnholm.
Well, well—if you feel absolutely sure that you cannot—then the relation between us remains unaltered, my dear Boletta.
Boletta.