Richard.
Possibly--even probably. But meanwhile the one distinction we have left is the right to dispose of our lives. When a nobleman of the Italian Renaissance, or a young blade of the court of Louis XIII., crossed the threshold of his house, he was never sure of re-entering it alive. That was what gave him his audacity, his splendid indifference to danger. Today we no longer stake our lives so lightly; but the fact that they are ours to stake still gives its keenest edge to living.
The Others.
Hear! Hear!
Norbert.
My dear father, you have given us an admirable explanation of the personal view of death. But life is not a personal matter at all. You have said so often enough. Our lives belong to the ideals for which we fight, they belong to the state or to the race----
Kellinghausen.
And how about our personal sense of honour? What of that, Norbert? Are we to be forbidden to defend with our lives the few things we hold sacred on earth? May we no longer fall upon the scoundrel who assails them? You will hardly convince us of that, Norbert.
Richard.
Then again, Norbert, there may be cases--you are too young to have foreseen them, but they exist--where an honourable man may have done irreparable injury to another's honour. If he admits his guilt, and satisfaction is demanded of him, what is he to do? Is he to run away, or to shelter himself behind the law? The law, which was made to protect the honour of serfs! Should you expect that of him, Norbert?