Adolf. I said, “Old coquette.”
Gustav. And what else?
Adolf. I didn’t say anything else.
Gustav. Oh yes, you did; you’ve only forgotten it. Perhaps because you haven’t got the pluck to remember it. You’ve locked it up in a secret pigeonhole; open it.
Adolf. I don’t remember.
Gustav. But I know what it was—the sense was roughly this: “You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be always flirting at your age. You’re getting too old to find any more admirers.”
Adolf. Did I say that—possibly? How did you manage to know it?
Gustav. On my way here I heard her tell the story on the steamer.
Adolf. To whom?
Gustav. [Walks up and down on the left.] To four boys, whom she happened to be with. She has a craze for pure boys, just like
Adolf. A perfectly innocent penchant.
Gustav. Quite as innocent as playing brother and sister when one is father and mother. • Adolf. You saw her, then?
Gustav. Yes, of course; but you’ve never seen her if you didn’t see her then —I mean ,if you weren’t present—and that’s the reason, don’t you know, why a husband can never know his wife. Have you got her photograph?
Adolf. [Takes a photo out of his pocketbook.] [Inquisitively.] Here you are.
Gustav. [Takes it.] Were you present when it was taken?
Adolf. No.
Gustav. Just look at it. Is it like the portrait you painted? No, the features are the same, but the expression is different. But you don’t notice that, because you insist on seeing in it the picture of her which you’ve painted. Now look at this picture as a painter, without thinking of the original. What does it represent? I can see nothing but a tricked-out flirt, playing the decoy. Observe the cynical twist in the mouth, which you never managed to see. You see that her look is seeking a man quite different from you. Observe the dress is decollete, the coiffure titivated to the last degree, the sleeves finish high up-. You see?
Adolf. Yes, now I see.
Gustav. Be careful, my boy.
Adolf. Of what?
Gustav. [Gives him back the portrait.] Of her revenge. Don’t forget that by saying she was no longer attractive to men you wounded her in the one thing which she took most seriously. If you’d called her literary works twaddle she’d have laughed, and pitied your bad taste, but now —take it from me—if she hasn’t avenged herself already, it’s not her fault.
Adolf. I must be clear on that point. [He goes over to GUSTAV, and sits down in his previous place. GUSTAV approaches him.]
Gustav. Find out yourself.
Adolf. Find out myself?
Gustav. Investigate. I’ll help you, if you like.
Adolf. [After a pause.] Good. Since I’ve been condemned to death once—so be it—sooner or later it’s all the same what’s to happen.
Gustav. One question first. Hasn’t your wife got just one weak point?
Adolf. Not that I know of. [ADOLF goes’ to the open door in the center.] Yes. You can hear the steamer in the Sound now—she’ll be here soon. And I must go down to meet her.
Gustav. [Holding him back.] No, stay here. Be rude to her. If she’s got a good conscience she’ll let you have it so hot and strong that you won’t know where you are. But if she feels guilty she’ll come and caress you.
Adolf. Are you so sure of it?
Gustav. Not absolutely. At times a hare goes back in its tracks, but I’m not going to let this one escape me. My room is just here. [Points to the door on the right and goes behind ADOLF’S chair.] I’ll keep this position, and be on the lookout, while you play your game here, and when you’ve played it to the end we’ll exchange parts. I’ll go in the cage and leave myself to the tender mercies of the snake, and you can stand at the keyhole. Afterward we’ll meet in the park and compare notes. But pull yourself together, old man, and if you show weakness I’ll knock on the floor twice with a chair.
Adolf. [Getting up.] Right. But don’t go away: I must know that you’re in the next room.
Gustav. You can trust me for that. But be careful you aren’t afraid when you see later on how I can dissect a human soul and lay the entrails here on the table. It may seem a bit uncanny to beginners, but if you’ve seen it done once you don’t regret it. One thing more, don’t say a word that you’ve met me, or that you have made any acquaintance during her absence—not a word. I’ll ferret out her weak point myself. Hush! She’s already up there in her room. She’s whistling—then she’s in a temper. Now stick to it. [He points to the left.] And sit here on this chair, then she’ll have to sit there [he points to the sofa on the left], and I can keep you both in view at the same time.
Adolf. We’ve still got an hour before dinner. There are no new visitors, for there has been no bell to announce them. We’ll be alone together—more’s the pity!
Gustav. You seem pretty limp. Are you unwell?
Adolf. I’m all right, unless, you know, I’m frightened of what’s going to happen. But I can’t help its happening. The stone rolls, but it was not the last drop of water that made it roll, nor yet the first—everything taken together brought it about.
Gustav. Let it roll, then, it won’t have any peace until it does. Good-bye, for the time being.
[Exit on the right. ADOLF nods to him, stands up for a short time, looking at the photograph, tears it to pieces, and throws the fragments behind the circular table on the right; he then sits down in his previous place, nervously arranges his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, fumbles with the lapels of his coat, etc. THEKLA enters on the left.]
SCENE II
Thekla. [Frank, cheerful and engaging, goes straight up to her husband and kisses him.] Good-day, little brother; how have you been getting on? [She stands on his left.]
Adolf. [Half overcome but jocularly resisting.] What mischief have you been up to, for you to kiss me?
Thekla. Yes, let me just confess. Something very naughty—I’ve spent an awful lot of money.
Adolf. Did you have a good time, then?
Thekla. Excellent. [She goes to his right.] But not at the Congress. It was as dull as ditch-water, don’t you know. But how has little brother been passing the time, when his little dove had flown away? [She looks round the room, as though looking for somebody or scenting something, and thus comes behind the sofa on the left.]
Adolf. Oh, the time seemed awfully long.
Thekla. Nobody to visit you?
Adolf. Not a soul. [THEKLA looks him up and down and sits down on the sofa.]
Thekla. Who sat here?
Adolf. Here? No one.
Thekla. Strange! The sofa is as warm as anything, and there’s the mark of an elbow in the cushion. Have you had a lady visitor? [She stands up.]
Adolf. Me? You’re not serious.
Thekla. [Turns away from the square table and comes to ADOLF’S right.] How he blushes! So the little brother wants to mystify me a bit, does he? Well, let him come here and confess what he’s got on his conscience to his little wife. [She draws him to her. ADOLF lets his head sink on her breast; laughing.]