d cause."--"Judas-like creatures, who shamelessly confess
their apostasy as soon as they think the most opportune and most
profitable moment has arrived."--"A reckless outrage on the fair fame
of honoured ancestors"--"in the expectation that those who are enjoying
a brief spell of authority will not disappoint them of a suitable
reward." (Lays the paper down on the table.) And they write that of
me--these men who have known me so long and so intimately--write a
thing that they do not even believe themselves! They know there is not
a single word of truth in it--and yet they write it.

Rebecca. There is more of it yet.

Rosmer (taking up the paper again). "Make some allowance for
inexperience and want of judgment"--"a pernicious influence which, very
possibly, has extended even to matters which for the present we will
refrain from publicly discussing or condemning." (Looks at her.) What
does that mean?

Rebecca. That is a hit at me, obviously.

Rosmer (laying down the paper). Rebecca, this is the conduct of
dishonourable men.

Rebecca. Yes, it seems to me they have no right to talk about
Mortensgaard.

Rosmer (walking up and down the room). They must be saved from this
sort of thing. All the good that is in men is destroyed, if it is
allowed to go on. But it shall not be so! How happy--how happy I should
feel if I could succeed in bringing a little light into all this murky
ugliness.

Rebecca (getting up). I am sure of it. There is something great,
something splendid, for you to live for!

Rosmer. Just think of it--if I could wake them to a real knowledge of
themselves--bring them to be angry with and ashamed of
themselves--induce them to be at one with each other in toleration, in
love, Rebecca!

Rebecca. Yes! Give yourself up entirely to that task, and you will see
that you will succeed.

Rosmer. I think it might be done. What happiness it would be to live
one's life, then! No more hateful strife--only emulation; every eye
fixed on the same goal; every man's will, every man's thoughts moving
forward-upward--each in its own inevitable path Happiness for all--and
through the efforts of all! (Looks out of the window as he speaks, then
gives a start and says gloomily:) Ah! not through me.

Rebecca. Not--not through you?

Rosmer. Nor for me, either.

Rebecca. Oh, John, have no such doubts.

Rosmer. Happiness, dear Rebecca, means first and foremost the calm,
joyous sense of innocence.

Rebecca (staring i