ROBERT.
May it not be that we are here and now in the presence of a moment which will free us both—me as well as you—from the last bonds of what is called morality. My friendship for you has laid bonds on me.
RICHARD.
Light bonds, apparently.
ROBERT.
I acted in the dark, secretly. I will do so no longer. Have you the courage to allow me to act freely?
RICHARD.
A duel—between us?
ROBERT.
[With growing excitement.] A battle of both our souls, different as they are, against all that is false in them and in the world. A battle of your soul against the spectre of fidelity, of mine against the spectre of friendship. All life is a conquest, the victory of human passion over the commandments of cowardice. Will you, Richard? Have you the courage? Even if it shatters to atoms the friendship between us, even if it breaks up for ever the last illusion in your own life? There was an eternity before we were born: another will come after we are dead. The blinding instant of passion alone—passion, free, unashamed, irresistible—that is the only gate by which we can escape from the misery of what slaves call life. Is not this the language of your own youth that I heard so often from you in this very place where we are sitting now? Have you changed?
RICHARD.
[Passes his hand across his brow.] Yes. It is the language of my youth.
ROBERT.
[Eagerly, intensely.] Richard, you have driven me up to this point. She and I have only obeyed your will. You yourself have roused these words in my brain. Your own words. Shall we? Freely? Together?
RICHARD.
[Mastering his emotion.] Together no. Fight your part alone. I will not free you. Leave me to fight mine.
ROBERT.
[Rises, decided.] You allow me, then?
RICHARD.
[Rises also, calmly.] Free yourself.