ROBERT. [_After a pause._] Well, I am not a coward any more than he. I will see him. BERTHA. [_Rises._] I will call him. ROBERT. [_Catching her hands._] Bertha! What happened last night? What is the truth that I am to tell? [_He gazes earnestly into her eyes._] Were you mine in that sacred night of love? Or have I dreamed it? BERTHA. [_Smiles faintly._] Remember your dream of me. You dreamed that I was yours last night. ROBERT. And that is the truth—a dream? That is what I am to tell? BERTHA. Yes. ROBERT. [_Kisses both her hands._] Bertha! [_In a softer voice._] In all my life only that dream is real. I forget the rest. [_He kisses her hands again._] And now I can tell him the truth. Call him. [_Bertha goes to the door of Richard’s study and knocks. There is no answer. She knocks again._] BERTHA. Dick! [_There is no answer._] Mr Hand is here. He wants to speak to you, to say goodbye. He is going away. [_There is no answer. She beats her hand loudly on the panel of the door and calls in an alarmed voice._] Dick! Answer me! [_Richard Rowan comes in from the study. He comes at once to Robert but does not hold out his hand._] RICHARD. [_Calmly._] I thank you for your kind article about me. Is it true that you have come to say goodbye? ROBERT. There is nothing to thank me for, Richard. Now and always I am your friend. Now more than ever before. Do you believe me, Richard? [_Richard sits down on a chair and buries his face in his hands. Bertha and Robert gaze at each other in silence. Then she turns away and goes out quietly on the right. Robert goes towards Richard and stands near him, resting his hands on the back of a chair, looking down at him. There is a long silence. A Fishwoman is heard crying out as she passes along the road outside._] THE FISHWOMAN. Fresh Dublin bay herrings! Fresh Dublin bay herrings! Dublin bay herrings! ROBERT. [_Quietly._] I will tell you the truth, Richard. Are you listening? RICHARD. [_Raises his face and leans back to listen._] Yes. [_Robert sits on the chair beside him. The Fishwoman is heard calling out farther away._] THE FISHWOMAN. Fresh herrings! Dublin bay herrings! ROBERT. I failed, Richard. That is the truth. Do you believe me? RICHARD. I am listening. ROBERT. I failed. She is yours, as she was nine years ago, when you met her first. RICHARD. When we met her first, you mean. ROBERT. Yes. [_He looks down for some moments._] Shall I go on? RICHARD. Yes. ROBERT. She went away. I was left alone—for the second time. I went to the vicechancellor’s house and dined. I said you were ill and would come another night. I made epigrams new and old—that one about the statues also. I drank claret cup. I went to my office and wrote my article. Then... RICHARD. Then? ROBERT. Then I went to a certain nightclub. There were men there—and also women. At least, they looked like women. I danced with one of them. She asked me to see her home. Shall I go on? RICHARD. Yes.