Rebecca.
[Rises.] Ah yes, Rosmer. In that you have a great and glorious object to live for.
Rosmer.
Only think, if I could rouse them to see themselves as they are; teach them to repent and blush before their better natures; bring them together in mutual forbearance—in love, Rebecca!
Rebecca.
Yes, put your whole strength into that, and you must succeed.
Rosmer.
I think success must be possible. Oh, what a delight it would be then to live one's life! No more malignant wrangling; only emulation. All eyes fixed on the same goal. Every mind, every will pressing forward—upward—each by the path its nature prescribes for it. Happiness for all—through all. [Happens to look out of the window, starts, and says sadly.] Ah! Not through me.
Rebecca. Not? Not through you?
Rosmer. Nor for me.
Rebecca.
Oh Rosmer, do not let such doubts take hold of you.
Rosmer.
Happiness—dear Rebecca—happiness is above all things the calm, glad certainty of innocence.
