ROBERT.
No. But tell her, waken her from sleep to tell her. It was piercing her heart.
RICHARD.
She must know me as I am.
ROBERT.
But that is not you as you are. A moment of weakness.
RICHARD.
[Lost in thought.] And I was feeding the flame of her innocence with my guilt.
ROBERT.
[Brusquely.] O, don’t talk of guilt and innocence. You have made her all that she is. A strange and wonderful personality—in my eyes, at least.
RICHARD.
[Darkly.] Or I have killed her.
ROBERT.
Killed her?
RICHARD.
The virginity of her soul.
ROBERT.
[Impatiently.] Well lost! What would she be without you?
RICHARD.
I tried to give her a new life.