Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 9).djvu/186

 ROSMER. That I don't know. I cannot imagine how. I don't think I can live it.—And I know of nothing in the world that is worth living for.

REBECCA. Oh, life—life will renew itself. Let us hold fast to it, Rosmer.—We shall leave it soon enough.

ROSMER. [Springs up restlessly.] Then give me my faith again! My faith in you, Rebecca! My faith in your love! Proof! I must have proof!

REBECCA. Proof? How can I give you proof?

ROSMER. You must! [Walks across the room.] I cannot bear this desolation—this horrible emptiness—this—this [A loud knock at the hall door.

REBECCA. [Starts up from her chair.] Ah—did you hear that?

The door opens. Ulric Brendel enters. He has a white shirt on, a black coat and a good pair of boots, with his trousers tucked into them. Otherwise he is dressed as in the first Act. He looks excited.

ROSMER. Ah, is it you, Mr. Brendel?

Brendel. Johannes, my boy—hail—and farewell!