It is
only I that have taken my stamp from you; and it is to you that I owe
everything--every good thing in the world.

ALLMERS. [Shaking his head.] You owe me nothing, Asta. On the contrary--

ASTA. I owe you everything! You must never doubt that. No sacrifice has
been too great for you--

ALLMERS. [Interrupting.] Oh, nonsense--sacrifice! Don't talk of such a
thing.--I have only loved you, Asta, ever since you were a little child.
[After a short pause.] And then it always seemed to me that I had so
much injustice to make up to you for.

ASTA. [Astonished.] Injustice? You?

ALLMERS. Not precisely on my own account. But--

ASTA. [Eagerly.] But--?

ALLMERS. On father's.

ASTA. [Half rising from the bench.] On--father's! [Sitting down again.]
What do you mean by that, Alfred?

ALLMERS. Father was never really kind to you.

ASTA. [Vehemently.] Oh, don't say that!

ALLMERS. Yes, it is true. He did not love you--not as he ought to have.

ASTA. [Evasively.] No, perhaps not as he loved you. That was only
natural.

ALLMERS. [Continuing.] And he was often hard to your mother, too--at
least in the last years.

ASTA. [Softly.] Mother was so much, much younger than he--remember that.

ALLMERS. Do you think they were not quite suited to each other?

ASTA. Perhaps not.

ALLMERS. Yes, but still--. Father, who in other ways was so gentle and
warm-hearted--so kindly towards every one--

ASTA. [Quietly.] Mother, too, was not always as she ought to have been.

ALLMERS. Your mother was not!

ASTA. Perhaps not always.

ALLMERS. Towards father, do you mean?

ASTA. Yes.

ALLMERS. I never noticed that.

ASTA. [Struggling with her tears, rises.] Oh, my dear Alfred--let them
rest--those who are gone. [She goes towards the right.]

ALLMERS. [Rising.] Yes, let them rest. [Wringing his hands.] But those
who are gone--it is they that won't let us rest, Asta. Neither day nor
night.

ASTA. [Looks warmly at him.] Time will make it all seem easier, Alfred.

ALLMERS. [Looking helplessly at her.] Yes, don't you think it will?--But
how I am to get over these terrible first days [Hoarsely.]--that is what
I cannot imagine.

ASTA. [Imploringly, laying her hands on his shoulders.] Go up to Rita.
Oh, please do--

ALLMERS. [Vehemently, withdrawing from her.] No, no, no--don't talk to
me of that! I cannot, I tell you. [More calmly.] Let me remain here,
with you.

ASTA. Well, I will not leave you.

ALLMERS. [Seizing her ha