"No, we shall not get married."
"Why not?..."
"Is he certain?"
"But you say he's fond of you."
"Yes, but is he certain? No, he is not. We are happy together, ever so happy. He wants to marry me. But is he certain? No, he is not. He is not certain: I know for certain that he does not know for certain.... Why should we bind ourselves with legal ties? If I have a child by him, I shall be very happy and shall be a good mother to my child. But why those legal ties?... Aldo isn't certain, happy though he may be. He is two years older than I. Who knows what may be waiting for him to-morrow, what emotion, what passion, what love?... I myself know that I have found, but I know that he does not know.... If he leaves me to-morrow, he is free. Then he can find another happiness, perhaps the lasting one.... What do we poor creatures know?... We seek and seek until suddenly we find certainty. I have found it. But he has not.... No, Lot, we shall not get married. I want Aldo to be free and to do as he pleases. I am no longer young and I want to leave him free. Our love, our bodies, our souls are free, absolutely free, in our happiness. And, if I am old to-morrow, an old woman, with no voice left ..."
"Then you will pay the penalty, Ottilie," said Lot.
"Then I shall pay no penalty, Lot. Then I shall have been happy. Then I shall have had my portion. I don't ask for eternity here below. I shall be satisfied and I shall grow old, quietly, quietly old...."
"Oh, Ottilie, and I ... I suffer from growing old, from growing older."
"Lot, that's a disease. You're happy now, you have Elly, life is beautiful, there is sunshine, there is happiness. Take all that, enjoy it and be happy and don't think of what is to come."
"Don't you then ever think of growing old and of the horror of it?"