ROBERT. [_Shakes his head slowly._] Extraordinary little person! Were you not ashamed? BERTHA. No. ROBERT. Not a bit? BERTHA. No. Why? Is that terrible? ROBERT. And how did he take it? Tell me. I want to know everything, too. BERTHA. [_Laughs._] It excited him. More than usual. ROBERT. Why? Is he excitable—still? BERTHA. [_Archly._] Yes, very. When he is not lost in his philosophy. ROBERT. More than I? BERTHA. More than you? [_Reflecting._] How could I answer that? You both are, I suppose? [_Robert turns aside and gazes towards the porch, passing his hand once or twice thoughtfully over his hair._] BERTHA. [_Gently._] Are you angry with me again? ROBERT. [_Moodily._] You are with me. BERTHA. No, Robert. Why should I be? ROBERT. Because I asked you to come to this place. I tried to prepare it for you. [_He points vaguely here and there._] A sense of quietness. BERTHA. [_Touching his jacket with her fingers._] And this, too. Your nice velvet coat. ROBERT. Also. I will keep no secrets from you. BERTHA. You remind me of someone in a picture. I like you in it... But you are not angry, are you? ROBERT. [_Darkly._] Yes. That was my mistake. To ask you to come here. I felt it when I looked at you from the garden and saw you—you, Bertha—standing here. [_Hopelessly._] But what else could I have done? BERTHA. [_Quietly._] You mean because others have been here? ROBERT. Yes. [_He walks away from her a few paces. A gust of wind makes the lamp on the table flicker. He lowers the wick slightly._] BERTHA. [_Following him with her eyes._] But I knew that before I came. I am not angry with you for it. ROBERT. [_Shrugs his shoulders._] Why should you be angry with me after all? You are not even angry with him—for the same thing—or worse. BERTHA. Did he tell you that about himself? ROBERT. Yes. He told me. We all confess to one another here. Turn about. BERTHA. I try to forget it. ROBERT. It does not trouble you? BERTHA. Not now. Only I dislike to think of it. ROBERT. It is merely something brutal, you think? Of little importance? BERTHA. It does not trouble me—now. ROBERT. [_Looking at her over his shoulder._] But there is something that would trouble you very much and that you would not try to forget? BERTHA. What? ROBERT. [_Turning towards her._] If it were not only something brutal with this person or that—for a few moments. If it were something fine and spiritual—with one person only—with one woman. [_Smiles._] And perhaps brutal too. It usually comes to that sooner or later. Would you try to forget and forgive that? BERTHA. [_Toying with her wristlet._] In whom? ROBERT. In anyone. In me. BERTHA. [_Calmly._] You mean in Dick. ROBERT. I said in myself. But would you? BERTHA. You think I would revenge myself? Is Dick not to be free too? ROBERT. [_Points at her._] That is not from your heart, Bertha. BERTHA. [_Proudly._] Yes, it is; let him be free too. He leaves me free also.