Good—Thanks—You are candid—I thank you—But let us suppose,—say that I _did_ turn my back on the whole affair—leave on one side all thought of what it would cost _me_, say I were to go straight off with you—then what—about—Ida? ROBERT. H’m, Ida—Ida?—(_Shrugs his shoulders._) H’m, yes. That’s not so quickly—at least—that wouldn’t trouble me over much. WILLIAM. Ah! That’s your old selfishness!!! Now I recognise you. ROBERT. Selfish? How? No, that’s just your mistake! I am not deeply enough interested to be selfish—interested in this particular matter, I mean. I really don’t believe— WILLIAM. I know better. You don’t suppose _you_ can teach me how to understand this girl? Once for all, it _is_ so. Depend upon it—she has that sort of feeling for me, which—well, I can’t alter it. You needn’t think me conceited—But, you see, what’s to become of her, if I should go? ROBERT. H’m, you really ask yourself—that—seriously— WILLIAM. Most seriously—I do—indeed. ROBERT. Just oblige me by answering this one question first. If you were to _marry_, what would Ida become then? WILLIAM. That no one can know. ROBERT. Oh yes, but one can:—mother! WILLIAM. As if mother is to be compared with Ida! ROBERT. But you with father. WILLIAM. Every man is a _new_ man. ROBERT. That’s what you’d _like_ to believe! Let it alone. You’re asking too much of yourself. You yourself are the embodied argument against it. WILLIAM. I don’t believe it. ROBERT. You _know_ it well enough. WILLIAM. After all one can make oneself into something. ROBERT. If one is brought up that way. WILLIAM. Tch! There’s no sense in talking about it. ROBERT. Entirely my opinion. WILLIAM. It leads to nothing! (_Breaking out, quite beside himself_) You all want to ruin me—I’m the victim of a conspiracy! You’re all in league against me; you want to destroy me—you all want to destroy me—utterly! ROBERT. Father’s very words. WILLIAM. Ridiculous—Your remarks are simply ridiculous—Haven’t I reason enough for what I’m saying? Don’t you want to part me from Ida? It is—simply!—I haven’t words enough!—The absurdity of it! The brutality beyond belief!—_I_ am to have pity on Ida! Who has pity on _me_!—Tell me that! Name me any one person—who? ROBERT. Naturally!—When that’s the way you speak, naturally! WILLIAM. The sacrifices demanded of me!—The most senseless outrageous sacrifices! I’m— ROBERT. You can spare yourself the trouble of talking; if that’s the case—You are in your rights, keep the girl. WILLIAM. If that’s the case! If what’s the case, pray? Just tell me! ROBERT. You spoke of—Ida a while ago—if I remember— WILLIAM. Well—what then? ROBERT. Now it seems you’re speaking of yourself—H’m, plainly—if you are indifferent as to what becomes of the girl, if you have the desirable dose of—well call it recklessness—if you take her, as you would a new coat or hat or something— WILLIAM.