And still no answer. His hands only answered with increasing tenderness.
“But speak, my treasure; say something to me.”
Here his obstinately closed lips opened:
“But Dr. Faust has already answered them in divine words to the Margaret of Goethe.”
“They may be divine words, if you will; but they do not please me at all. Faust answers one interrogation with another. He answers like the ancient sybil.”
“And in what other way can a man answer the problem, To be, or not to be? A dogmatic answer might be an offence to reason, and I hate to confess I believe in something I do not understand.”
“Pride, pride, always pride; your modern science is entirely leavened with it.”
“And your faith with superstition.”
“No, my love, I do not wish to force my faith upon you; but believe something, make a faith for yourself, but do not tell me we shall not live even after death.”
“Yes, my treasure, I also have my faith. Give me a kiss.”