Helen. I don't ask you to love me. If I may but breathe the same air with you ...!
Gerardo (struggling to preserve his composure). Helen—to a man like me the conventional rules of life cannot be applied. I have known society women in all the lands of Europe. They have made me scenes, too, when it was time for me to leave—but when it came to choosing, I always knew what I owed to my position. Never yet have I met with such an outburst of passion as yours. Helen—I am tempted every day to withdraw to some idyllic Arcadia with this or that woman. But one has his duty to perform; you as well as I; and duty is the highest law ...
Helen. I think I know better by this time, Oscar, what is the highest law.
Gerardo. Well, what is it? Not your love, I hope? That's what every woman says! Whatever a woman wants to carry through she calls good, and if anybody refuses to yield to her then he is bad. That's what our fool playwrights have done for us. In order to draw full houses they put the world upside down and call it great-souled if a woman sacrifices her children and her family to indulge her senses. I should like to live like a turtledove, too. But as long as I have been in this world I have first obeyed my duty. If after that the opportunity offered, then, to be sure, I've enjoyed life to the full. But if one does not follow one's duty, one has no right to make the least claims on others.
Helen (looking away; abstractedly). That will not bring the dead to life again ...
D. MOMMSEN
Gerardo (nervously). Why, Helen, don't you see, I want to give back your life to you! I want to give back to you what you have sacrificed to me. Take it, I implore you! Don't make more of it than it is! Helen, how can a woman so disgracefully humiliate herself! What has become of your pride? With what contempt would you have shown me my proper place if I had fallen in love with you, if it had occurred to me to be jealous! What am I in the eyes of the society in which you move! A man who makes a clown of himself! Would you fling away your life for a man whom a hundred women have loved before you, whom a hundred women will love after you without allowing it to cause them a moment of distress! Do you want your flowing blood to make you ridiculous in the sight of God and man?
Helen (looking away). I know very well that I am asking an unheard-of thing of you but—what else can I do ...
Gerardo (soothingly). I have given you all that's in my power to give. Even to a princess I could not be more than I have been to you. If there is one thing further our relations, if continued, might mean to you, it could only be the utter ruin of your life. Now release me, Helen! I understand how hard you find it, but—one often fears one is going to die. I myself often tremble for my life—art as a profession is so likely to unstring one's nerves. It's astonishing how soon one will get over that kind of thing. Resign yourself to the fortuitousness of life. We did not seek one another because we loved each other; we loved each other because we happened to find one another! (Shrugging his shoulders.) You say I must bear the consequences of my acts, Helen. Would you in all seriousness think ill of me now for not refusing you admittance when you came under the pretext of having me pass on your voice? I dare say you think too highly of your personal advantages for that; you know yourself too well; you are too proud of your beauty. Tell me, were you not absolutely certain of victory when you came?