She knew nothing about it. She has no suspicion of it, even to this day.
Rita.
[Rejecting the plea.] It was Asta, nevertheless! [Smiling, with a sidelong glance of scorn.] Or, no—it was little Eyolf. Little Eyolf, my dear!
Allmers.
Eyolf——?
Rita.
Yes, you used to call her Eyolf, did you not? I seem to remember your telling me so—once, in a moment of confidence. [Coming up to him.] Do you remember it—that entrancingly beautiful hour, Alfred?
Allmers.
[Recoiling, as if in horror.] I remember nothing! I will not remember!
Rita.