Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/302



[Curtly.] No, I do not understand it.

Ah, that is just the curse—I have never found one single soul to understand me.

[Looking at him.] Never, Borkman?

Except one—perhaps. Long, long ago. In the days when I did not think I needed understanding. Since then, at any rate, no one has understood me! There has been no one alive enough to my needs to be afoot and rouse me—to ring the morning bell for me—to call me up to manful work anew. And to impress upon me that I had done nothing inexpiable.

[With a scornful laugh.] So, after all, you require to have that impressed on you from without?

[With increasing indignation.] Yes, when the whole world hisses in chorus that I have sunk never to rise again, there come moments when I almost believe it myself. [''Raising his head.''] But then my inmost assurance rises again triumphant; and that acquits me.