John.
What do you mean?
Basil.
Oh, it's so despicable. And yet it's too strong for me.... I can't help thinking that I'm—free.
John.
Free?
Basil.
It's treachery to her memory. But you don't know what it is when your prison door is opened. [As he speaks he grows more and more excited.] I don't want to die. I want to live, and I want to take life by both hands and enjoy it. I've got such a desire for happiness. Let's open the windows, and let the sunlight in. [He goes to the window and flings it open.] It's so good just to be alive. How can I help thinking that now I can start fresh? The slate is wiped clean, and I can begin again. I will be happy. God forgive me, I can't help the thought. I'm free. I made a ghastly mistake, and I suffered for it. Heaven knows how I suffered, and how hard I tried to make the best of it. It wasn't all my fault. In this world we're made to act and think things because other people have thought them good. We never have a chance of going our own way. We're bound down by the prejudices and the morals of everybody else. For God's sake, let us be free. Let us do this and that because we want to and because we must, not because other people think we ought. [He stops suddenly in front of John.] Why don't you say something? You stare at me as if you thought me raving mad!
John.
I don't know what to say.