[_Softly._] Be the new and living reality. It is the only way to put Beata out of the Saga. Shall we try it?
Never! Do not--_do_ not ask me why--for I haven't a notion--but never! [_Nods slowly to him and rises._] White Horses would not induce me! [_With her hand on door-handle._] Now you _know_!
[_Sits up, stares, thunderstruck, at the stove, and says to himself._] Well--I--_am_----
_Sitting-room at Rosmershölm. Sun shining outside in the Garden. Inside_ REBECCA WEST _is watering a geranium with a small watering-pot. Her crochet antimacassar lies in the arm-chair._ MADAME HELSETH _is rubbing the chairs with furniture-polish from a large bottle. Enter_ ROSMER, _with his hat and stick in his hand._ MADAME HELSETH _corks the bottle and goes out to the right_.
Good morning, dear. [_A moment after_--_crocheting._] Have you seen Rector Kroll's paper this morning? There's something about _you_ in it.
Oh, indeed? [_Puts down hat and stick, and takes up paper._] H'm! [_Reads_--_then walks about the room._] Kroll _has_ made it hot for me. [_Reads some more._] Oh, this is _too_ bad! Rebecca, they _do_ say such nasty spiteful things! they actually call me a renegade--and I can't _think_ why! They _mustn't_ go on like this. All that is good in human nature will go to ruin if they're allowed to attack an excellent man like me! Only think, if I can make them see how unkind they have been!
Yes, dear, in that you have a great and glorious object to attain--and I wish you may get it!
Thanks. I think I shall. [_Happens to look through window and jumps._] Ah, no, I shan't--never now, I have just seen----
_Not_ the White Horse, dear? We must really not overdo that White Horse!
No--the mill-race, where Beata----[_Puts on his hat_--_takes it off again._] I'm beginning to be haunted by--no, I _don't_ mean the Horse--by a terrible suspicion that Beata may have been right after all! Yes, I do believe, now I come to think of it, that I must really have been in love with you from the first. Tell me _your_ opinion.
[_Struggling with herself, and still crocheting._] Oh--I can't exactly say--such an odd question to ask me!
[_Shakes his head._] Perhaps; I have no sense of humour--no respectable Norwegian _has_--and I _do_ want to know--because, you see, if I _was_ in love with you, it was a _sin_, and if I once convinced myself of that----