Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 9).djvu/70

 I have sated myself, in my secret thoughts, with a rapture—oh! so intense, so inebriating!

Kroll. H'm.

Rosmer.

But you have written nothing down?

Brendel.

Not a word. The soulless toil of the scrivener has always aroused a sickening aversion in me. And besides, why should I profane my own ideals, when I could enjoy them in their purity by myself? But now they shall be offered up. I assure you I feel like a mother who delivers her tender daughters into their bridegrooms' arms. But I will offer them up, none the less. I will sacrifice them on the altar of Emancipation. A series of carefully elaborated lectures—over the whole country!

Rebecca.

[With animation.] This is noble of you, Mr. Brendel! You are yielding up the dearest thing you possess.

Rosmer.

The only thing.

Rebecca.

[Looking significantly at Rosmer.] How many are there who do as much—who dare do as much?

Rosmer. [Returning the look.] Who knows?

Brendel. My audience is touched. That does my heart