Adolf. You’re a regular devil, do you know that?
Thekla. No, I know myself so little.
Adolf. Do you never think about yourself?
Thekla. [Looking in the air, while she looks at him searchingly.] About myself? I only think about myself. I am a shocking egoist, but how philosophical you’ve become, my dear.
Adolf. Put your hand on my forehead.
Thekla. [Playfully.] Has he got bees in his bonnet again? Shall I drive them away? [She kisses him on the forehead.] There, it’s all right now? [Pause, moving away from him to the right.] Now let me hear what he’s been doing to amuse himself. Painted anything pretty?
Adolf. No, I’ve given up painting.
Thekla. What, you’ve given up painting!
Adolf. Yes, but don’t scold me about it. How could I help it if I wasn’t able to paint any more?
Thekla. What are you going to take up then?
Adolf. I’m going to be a sculptor. [THEKLA passes over in front of the square table and in front of the sofa.] Yes, but don’t blame me—just look at this figure.
Thekla. [Undrapes the figure on the table.] Hello, I say! Who’s this meant to be?
Adolf. Guess!
Thekla. [Tenderly.] Is it meant to be his little wife? And he isn’t ashamed of it, is he?
Adolf. Hasn’t he hit the mark?
Thekla. How can I tell?—the face is lacking. [She drapes the figure.]
Adolf. Quite so—but all the rest? Nice?
Thekla. [Taps him caressingly on the cheek.] Will he shut up? Otherwise I’ll kiss him. [She goes behind him; ADOLF defending himself.]
Adolf. Look out, look out, anybody might come.
Thekla. [Nestling close to him.] What do I care! I’m surely allowed to kiss my own husband. That’s only my legal right.
Adolf. Quite so, but do you know the people here in the hotel take the view that we’re not married because we kiss each other so much, and our occasional quarrelling makes them all the more cocksure about it, because lovers usually carry on like that.
Thekla. But need there be any quarrels? Can’t he always be as sweet and good as he is at present? Let him tell me. Wouldn’t he like it himself? Wouldn’t he like us to be happy?
Adolf. I should like it, but
Thekla. [With a step to the right.] Who put it into his head not to paint any more?
Adolf. You’re always scenting somebody behind me and my thoughts. You’re jealous.
Thekla. I certainly am. I was always afraid someone might estrange you from me.
Adolf. You’re afraid of that, you say, though you know very well that there isn’t a woman living who can supplant you—that I can’t live without you.
Thekla. I wasn’t frightened the least bit of females. It was your friends I was afraid of: they put all kinds of ideas into your head.
Adolf. [Probing.] So you were afraid? What were you afraid of?
Thekla. Someone has been here. Who was it?
Adolf. Can’t you stand my looking at you?
Thekla. Not in that way. You aren’t accustomed to look at me like that.
Adolf. How am I looking at you then?
Thekla. You are spying underneath your eyelids.
Adolf. Right through. Yes, I want to know what it’s like inside.
Thekla. I don’t mind. As you like. I’ve nothing to hide, but—your very manner of speaking has changed—you employ expressions. [Probing.] You philosophize. Eh? [She goes toward him in a menacing manner.] Who has been here?
Adolf. My doctor—nobody else.
Thekla. Your doctor! What doctor?
Adolf. The doctor from Stromastad.
Thekla. What’s his name?
Adolf. Sjoberg.
Thekla. What did he say?
Adolf. Well—he said, among other things—that I’m pretty near getting epilepsy.
Thekla. [With a step to the right.] Among other things! What else did he say?
Adoif. Oh, something extremely unpleasant.
Thekla. Let me hear it.
Adolf. He forbade us to live together as man and wife for some time.
Thekla. There you are. I thought as much. They want to separate us. I’ve already noticed it for some time. [She goes round the circular table toward the right.]
Adolf. There was nothing 1 for you to notice. There was never the slightest incident of that description.
Thekla. What do you mean?
Adolf. How could it have been possible for you to have seen something- which wasn’t there if your fear hadn’t heated your imagination to so violent a pitch that you saw what never existed? As a matter of fact, what were you afraid of? That I might borrow another’s eyes so as to see you as you really were, not as you appeared to me?
Thekla. Keep your imagination in check, Adolf. Imagination is the beast in the human soul.
Adolf. Where did you get this wisdom from? From the pure youths on the steamer, eh?
Thekla. [Without losing her self-possession.] Certainly—even youth can teach one a great deal.
Adolf. You seem for once in a way, to be awfully keen on youth?
Thekla. [Standing by the door in the center.] I have always been so, and that’s how it came about that I loved you. Any objection?
Adolf. Not at all. But I should very much prefer to be the only one.
Thekla. [Coming forward on his right, and joking as though speaking to a child.] Let the little brother look here. I’ve got such a large heart that there is room in it for a great many, not only for him.
Adolf. But little brother doesn’t want to know anything about the other brothers.
Thekla. Won’t he just come here and let himself be teased by his little woman, because he’s jealous— no, envious is the right word. [Two knocks with a chair are heard, from the room on the right.]
Adolf. No, I don’t want to fool about, I want to speak seriously.
Thekla. [As though speaking to a child.] Good Lord! he wants to speak seriously. Upon my word! Has the man become serious for once in his life? [Comes on his left, takes hold of his head and kisses him.] Won’t he laugh now a little? [ADOLF lawghs.]
Thekla. There, there!
Adolf. [Laughs involuntarily.] You damned witch, you! I really believe you can bewitch people.
Thekla. [Comes in front of the sofa.] He can see for himself, and that’s why he mustn’t worry me, otherwise I shall certainly bewitch him.
Adolf. [Springs up.] Thekla! Sit for me a minute in profile, and I’ll do the face for your figure.
Thekla. With pleasure. [She turns her profile toward him.]
Adolf. [Sits down, fixe-s her with his eyes and acts as though he were modelling.] Now, don’t think of me, think of somebody else.