Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 9).djvu/121

 Rebecca.

[Vehemently.] Oh, don't speak of Beata! Don't think of Beata any more! You were just beginning to shake off the hold she has upon you, even in the grave.

Rosmer.

Since I have heard all this, she seems, in a ghastly sort of way, to be alive again.

Rebecca.

Oh no—not that, Rosmer! Not that!

Rosmer.

Yes, I tell you. We must try to get to the bottom of this. What can possibly have led her to misinterpret things so fatally?

Rebecca.

You are surely not beginning to doubt that she was on the very verge of insanity?

Rosmer.

Oh yes—that is just what I can't feel quite certain of any longer. And besides—even if she was

Rebecca.

If she was? Well, what then?

Rosmer.

I mean—where are we to look for the determining cause that drove her morbid spirit over the border-line of madness?

Rebecca.

Oh, why brood over problems no one can solve?