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. I?
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's
