Chapter 8

Rebecca.

Oh you can surely tell me. We two are such good friends.

Madam Helseth.

Lord preserve me from telling you anything aboutthat, Miss. I can only tell you that it was something horrible that they’d got the poor sick lady to believe.

Rebecca.

Who had got her to believe it?

Madam Helseth.

Wicked people, Miss West. Wicked people.

Rebecca.

Wicked——?

Madam Helseth.

Yes, I say it again. They must have been real wicked people.

Rebecca.

And who do you think it could have been?

Madam Helseth.

Oh, I know well enough what to think. But Lord forbidIshould say anything. To be sure there’s a certain lady in the town—h’m!

Rebecca.

I can see that you mean Mrs. Kroll.

Madam Helseth.

Ah, she’s a fine one, she is. She has alwaysbeen the great lady with me. And she’s never had any too much love for you neither.

Rebecca.

Do you think Mrs. Rosmer was in her right mind when she wrote that letter to Mortensgård?

Madam Helseth.

It’s a queer thing a person’s mind, Miss. Clean out of her mind I don’t think she was.

Rebecca.

But she seemed to go distracted when she learned that she must always be childless. It wasthatthat unsettled her reason.

Madam Helseth.

Yes, poor lady, that was a dreadful blow to her.

Rebecca.

[Takes up her crochet and sits in a chair by the window.] But after all—don’t you think it was a good thing for the Pastor, Madam Helseth?

Madam Helseth.

What, Miss?

Rebecca.

That there were no children. Don’t you think so?

Madam Helseth.

H’m, I’m sure I don’t know what to say about that.

Rebecca.

Oh yes, believe me, it was fortunate for him. Pastor Rosmer is not the man to have crying children about his house.

Madam Helseth.

Ah, Miss, little children don’t cry at Rosmersholm.

Rebecca.

[Looks at her.] Don’t cry?

Madam Helseth.

No. As long as people can remember, children have never been known to cry in this house.

Rebecca.

That’s very strange.

Madam Helseth.

Yes; isn’t it? But it runs in the family. And then there’s another strange thing. When they grow up, they never laugh. Never, as long as they live.

Rebecca.

Why, how extraordinary——

Madam Helseth.

Have you ever once heard or seen the Pastor laugh, Miss?

Rebecca.

No—now that I think of it, I almost believe you are right. But I don’t think any one laughs much in this part of the country.

Madam Helseth.

No, they don’t. They say it began at Rosmersholm. And then I suppose it spread round about, as if it was catching-like.

Rebecca.

You are a very wise woman, Madam Helseth.

Madam Helseth.

Oh, Miss, you mustn’t sit there and make fun of me. [Listens.] Hush, hush—here’s the Pastor coming down. He doesn’t like to see dusting going on.

[She goes out to the right.

Johannes Rosmer,with his hat and stick in his hand, enters from the hall.

Rosmer.

Good morning, Rebecca.

Rebecca.

Good morning, dear. [A moment after—crocheting.] Are you going out?

Rosmer.

Yes.

Rebecca.

It’s a beautiful day.

Rosmer.

You didn’t look in on me this morning.

Rebecca.

No, I didn’t. Not to-day.

Rosmer.

Do you not intend to in future?

Rebecca.

Oh, I don’t know yet, dear.

Rosmer.

Has anything come for me?

Rebecca.

The “County News” has come.

Rosmer.

The “County News”?

Rebecca.

There it is on the table.

Rosmer.

[Puts down his hat and stick.] Is there anything——?

Rebecca.

Yes.

Rosmer.

And you didn’t send it up?

Rebecca.

You will read it soon enough.

Rosmer.

Oh, indeed? [Takes the paper and reads, standing by the table.]—What!—“We cannot warn our readers too earnestly against unprincipled renegades.” [Looks at her.] They call me a renegade, Rebecca.

Rebecca.

They mention no names.

Rosmer.

That makes no difference. [Reads on.] “Secret traitors to the good cause.”—“Judas-natures, who make brazen confession of their apostasy as soon as they think the most convenient and—profitable moment has arrived.” “Ruthless befouling of aname honoured through generations”—“in the confident hope of a suitable reward from the party in momentary power.” [Lays down the paper on the table.] And they can say such things of me!—Men who have known me so long and so well! Things they themselves don’t believe. Things they know there is not a word of truth in—they print them all the same.

Rebecca.

That is not all.

Rosmer.

[Takes up the paper again.] “Inexperience and lack of judgment the only excuse”—“pernicious influence—possibly extending to matters which, for the present, we do not wish to make subjects of public discussion or accusation.” [Looks at her.] What is this?

Rebecca.

It is aimed at me, plainly enough.

Rosmer.

[Lays down the paper.] Rebecca,—this is the conduct of dishonourable men.

Rebecca.

Yes, they need scarcely be so contemptuous of Mortensgård.

Rosmer.

[Walks about the room.] Somethingmustbe done. All that is good in human nature will go to ruin, if this is allowed to go on. But itshallnot go on! Oh, what a joy—what a joy it would be to me to let a little light into all this gloom and ugliness!

Rebecca.

[Rises.] Ah yes, Rosmer. In that you have a great and glorious object to live for.

Rosmer.

Only think, if I could rouse them to see themselves as they are; teach them to repent and blush before their better natures; bring them together in mutual forbearance—in love, Rebecca!

Rebecca.

Yes, put your whole strength into that, and youmustsucceed.

Rosmer.

I think success must be possible. Oh, what a delight it would be then to live one’s life! No more malignant wrangling; only emulation. All eyes fixed on the same goal. Every mind, every will pressing forward—upward—each by the path its nature prescribes for it. Happiness for all—through all. [Happens to look out of the window, starts, and says sadly.] Ah! Not through me.

Rebecca.

Not——? Not through you?

Rosmer.

Nor for me.

Rebecca.

Oh Rosmer, do not let such doubts take hold of you.

Rosmer.

Happiness—dear Rebecca—happiness is above all things the calm, glad certainty of innocence.

Rebecca.

[Looks straight before her.] Yes, innocence——

Rosmer.

Oh,youcannot know what guilt means. But I——

Rebecca.

You least of all!

Rosmer.

[Points out of the window.] The mill race.

Rebecca.

Oh Rosmer——!

Madam Helsethlooks in at the door.

Madam Helseth.

Miss West!

Rebecca.

Presently, presently. Not now.

Madam Helseth.

Only a word, Miss.

[Rebeccagoes to the door.Madam Helsethtells her something. They whisper together for a few moments.Madam Helsethnods and goes out.

Rosmer.

[Uneasily.] Was it anything for me?

Rebecca.

No, only something about the house-work.—You ought to go out into the fresh air, dear Rosmer. You should take a good long walk.

Rosmer.

[Takes up his hat.] Yes, come. Let us go together.

Rebecca.

No, dear, I can’t just now. You must go alone. But shake off all these gloomy thoughts. Promise me.

Rosmer.

I am afraid I shall never shake them off.

Rebecca.

Oh, that such baseless fancies should take so strong a hold of you——!

Rosmer.

Not so baseless I am afraid, Rebecca. I lay awake all night thinking it over and over. Perhaps Beata saw clearly after all.

Rebecca.

In what?

Rosmer.

In her belief that I loved you, Rebecca.

Rebecca.

Right inthat!

Rosmer.

[Lays his hat down on the table.] The question that haunts me is this: were we two not deceiving ourselves all the time—when we called our relation friendship?

Rebecca.

You mean that it might as well have been called——?

Rosmer.

——love. Yes, Rebecca, that is what I mean. Even while Beata was alive, all my thoughts were for you. It was you alone I longed for. It was when you were by my side that I felt the calm gladness of utter content. If you think it over, Rebecca—did we not feel for each other from the first a sort of sweet, secret child-love—desireless, dreamless? Was it not so with you? Tell me.

Rebecca.

[Struggling with herself.] Oh—I don’t know what to answer.

Rosmer.

And it was this close-linked life in and for each other that we took for friendship. No, Rebecca—our bond has been a spiritual marriage—perhaps from the very first. That is why there is guilt on my soul. I had no right to such happiness—it was a sin against Beata.

Rebecca.

No right to live happily? Do you believe that, Rosmer?

Rosmer.

She looked at our relation with the eyes of her love—judged it after the fashion ofherlove. Inevitably. Beata could not have judged otherwise than she did.

Rebecca.

But how can you accuse yourself because of Beata’s delusion?

Rosmer.

It was love for me—herkind of love—that drove her into the mill race. That is an immovablefact, Rebecca. And that is what I can never get over.

Rebecca.

Oh, think of nothing but the great, beautiful task you have devoted your life to.

Rosmer.

[Shakes his head.] It can never be accomplished, dear. Not by me. Not after what I have come to know.

Rebecca.

Why not by you?

Rosmer.

Because no cause ever triumphs that has its origin in sin.

Rebecca.

[Vehemently.] Oh, these are only ancestral doubts—ancestral fears—ancestral scruples. They say the dead come back to Rosmersholm in the shape of rushing white horses. I think this shows that it is true.

Rosmer.

Be that as it may; what does it matter, so long as I cannot rid myself of the feeling? And believe me, Rebecca, it is as I tell you. The cause that is to win a lasting victory must have for its champion a happy, an innocent man.

Rebecca.

Is happiness so indispensable to you, Rosmer?

Rosmer.

Happiness? Yes, dear,—it is.

Rebecca.

To you, who can never laugh?

Rosmer.

Yes, in spite of that. Believe me, I have a great capacity for happiness.

Rebecca.

Now go for your walk, dear. A good long walk. Do you hear?—See, here is your hat. And your stick too.

Rosmer.

[Takes both.] Thanks. And you won’t come with me?

Rebecca.

No, no; I can’t just now.

Rosmer.

Very well, then. You are with me none the less.

[He goes out by the entrance door.Rebeccawaits a moment, cautiously watching his departure from behind the open door; then she goes to the door on the right.

Rebecca.

[Opens the door, and says in a low tone.] Now, Madam Helseth. You can show him in now.

[Goes towards the window.

A moment afterRector Krollenters from the right. He bows silently and formally, and keeps his hat in his hand.

Kroll.

He has gone out?

Rebecca.

Yes.

Kroll.

Does he usually stay out long?

Rebecca.

Yes, he does. But one cannot count on him to-day. So if you don’t care to meet him——

Kroll.

No, no. It is you I want to speak to,—quite alone.

Rebecca.

Then we had better not lose time. Sit down, Rector.

[She sits in the easy-chair by the window.Rector Krollsits on a chair beside her.

Kroll.

Miss West—you can scarcely imagine how deeply and painfully I have taken this to heart—this change in Johannes Rosmer.

Rebecca.

We expected it would be so—at first.

Kroll.

Only at first?

Rebecca.

Rosmer was confident that sooner or later you would join him.

Kroll.

Rebecca.

You and all his other friends.

Kroll.

Ah, there you see! That shows the infirmity of his judgment in all that concerns men and practical life.

Rebecca.

But after all—since he feels it a necessity to emancipate himself on all sides——

Kroll.

Yes, but wait—that is just what I do not believe.

Rebecca.

Whatdoyou believe then?

Kroll.

I believe thatyouare at the bottom of it all.

Rebecca.

It is your wife who has put that in your head, Rector Kroll.

Kroll.

No matter who has put it in my head. What is certain is that I feel a strong suspicion—an exceedingly strong suspicion—when I think things over, and piece together all I know of your behaviour ever since you came here.

Rebecca.

[Looks at him.] I seem to recollect a time when you felt an exceedingly strongfaithin me, dear Rector. I might almost call it awarmfaith.

Kroll.

[In a subdued voice.] Whom could you not bewitch—if you tried?

Rebecca.

Did I try——?

Kroll.

Yes, you did. I am no longer such a fool as to believe that there was any feeling in the matter. You simply wanted to get a footing at Rosmersholm—to strike root here—and in that I was to serve you. Now I see it.

Rebecca.

You seem utterly to have forgotten that it was Beata who begged and implored me to come out here?

Kroll.

Yes, when you had bewitched her to. Can the feeling she came to entertain for you be called friendship? It was adoration—almost idolatry. It developed into—what shall I call it?—a sort of desperate passion.—Yes, that is the right word for it.

Rebecca.

Be so good as to recollect the state your sister was in. So far as I am concerned, I don’t think any one can accuse me of being hysterical.

Kroll.

No; that you certainly are not. But that makes you all the more dangerous to the people you want to get into your power. It is easy for you to weigh your acts and calculate consequences—just because your heart is cold.

Rebecca.

Cold? Are you so sure of that?

Kroll.

I am quite certain of it now. Otherwise you could never have lived here year after year without faltering in the pursuit of your object. Well, well—you have gained your end. You have got him and everything into your power. But in order to do so, you have not scrupled to make him unhappy.

Rebecca.

That is not true. It is not I—it is you yourself that have made him unhappy.

Kroll.

Rebecca.

Yes, when you led him to imagine that he was responsible for Beata’s terrible end.

Kroll.

Does he feel that so deeply, then?

Rebecca.

How can you doubt it? A mind so sensitive as his——

Kroll.

I thought that an emancipated man, so called, was above all such scruples.—But there we have it! Oh yes—I admit I knew how it would be. The descendant of the men that look down on us from these walls—how could he hope to cut himself adrift from all that has been handed down without a break from generation to generation?

Rebecca.

[Looks down thoughtfully.] Johannes Rosmer’sspirit is deeply rooted in his ancestry. That is very certain.

Kroll.

Yes, and you should have taken that fact into consideration, if you had felt any affection for him. But that sort of consideration was no doubt beyond you. There is such an immeasurable difference between your antecedents and his.

Rebecca.

What antecedents do you mean?

Kroll.

I am speaking of your origin—your family antecedents, Miss West.

Rebecca.

Oh, indeed! Yes, it is quite true that I come of very humble folk. Nevertheless——

Kroll.

I am not thinking of rank and position. I allude to your moral antecedents.

Rebecca.

Moral——? In what sense?

Kroll.

The circumstances of your birth.

Rebecca.

What do you mean?

Kroll.

I only mention the matter because it accounts for your whole conduct.

Rebecca.

I do not understand this. You must explain.

Kroll.

I really did not suppose you could require an explanation. Otherwise it would have been very odd that you should have let Dr. West adopt you——

Rebecca.

[Rises.] Ah! Now I understand.

Kroll.

——and that you should have taken his name. Your mother’s name was Gamvik.

Rebecca.

[Walks across the room.] My father’s name was Gamvik, Rector Kroll.

Kroll.

Your mother’s business must have brought her very frequently into contact with the parish doctor.

Rebecca.

Yes, it did.

Kroll.

And then he takes you into his house—as soon as your mother dies. He treats you harshly; and yet you stay with him. You know that he won’t leave you a halfpenny—as a matter of fact, you only got a case full of books—and yet you stay on; you bear with him; you nurse him to the last.

Rebecca.

[Stands by the table, looking scornfully at him.] And you account for all this by assuming thatthere was something immoral—something criminal about my birth?

Kroll.

I attribute your care for him to involuntary filial instinct. Indeed I believe your whole conduct is determined by your origin.

Rebecca.

[Vehemently.] But there is not a single word of truth in what you say! And I can prove it! Dr. West did not come to Finmark till after I was born.

Kroll.

Excuse me, Miss West. He settled there the year before. I have assured myself of that.

Rebecca.

You are mistaken, I say! You are utterly mistaken.

Kroll.

You told me the day before yesterday that you were nine-and-twenty—in your thirtieth year.

Rebecca.

Indeed! Did I say so?

Kroll.

Yes, you did. And I can calculate from that——

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