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 around 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_]. 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._]
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 [_unwraps the figure on the table_]. Hallo, 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 yhe 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 quarreling 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 some one 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. Some one 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 Stroemastad.
THEKLA. What's his name?
ADOLF. Sjoeberg.
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?
ADOLF. 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 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 eye 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 laughs._]
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, fixes her with his eyes and acts as though he were
modeling_]. Now, don't think of me, think of somebody else.
THEKLA. I'll think of my last conquest.
ADOLF. The pure youth?
THEKLA. Quite right. He had the duckiest, sweetest little mustache, and
cheeks like cherries, so delicate and soft, one could have bitten right
into them.
ADOLF [_depressed_]. Just keep that twist in your mouth.
THEKLA. What twist?
ADOLF. That cynical insolent twist which I've never seen before.
THEKLA [_makes a grimace_]. Like that?
ADOLF. Quite. [_He gets up._] Do you know how Bret Harte describes the
adulteress?
THEKLA [_laughs_]. No, I've never read that Bret What-do-you-call-him.
ADOLF. Oh! she's a pale woman who never blushes.
THEKLA. Never? Oh yes, she does; oh yes, she does. Perhaps when she
meets her lover, even though her husband and Mr. Bret didn't manage to
see anything of it.
ADOLF. Are you so certain about it?
THEKLA [_as before_]. Absolutely. If the man isn't able to drive her
very blood to her head, how can he possibly enjoy the pretty spectacle?
[_She passes by him toward the right._]
ADOLF [_raving_]. Thekla! Thekla!
THEKLA. Little fool!
ADOLF [_sternly_]. Thekla!
THEKLA. Let him call me his own dear little sweetheart, and I'll get red
all over before him, shall I?
ADOLF [_disarmed_]. I'm so angry with you, you monster, that I should
like to bite you.
THEKLA [_playing with him_]. Well, come and bite me; come.
[_She holds out her arms towards him._]
ADOLF [_takes her by the neck and kisses her_]. Yes, my dear, I'll bite
you so that you die.
THEKLA [_joking_]. Look out, somebody might come.
[_She goes to the fireplace on the right and leans on the
chimneypiece._]
ADOLF. Oh, what do I care if they do. I don't care about anything in the
whole world so long as I have you.
THEKLA. And if you don't have me any more?
ADOLF [_sinks down on the chair on the left in front of the circular
table_]. Then I die!
THEKLA. All right, you needn't be frightened of that the least bit; I'm
already much too old, you see, for anybody to like me.
ADOLF. You haven't forgotten those words of mine?--I take them back.
THEKLA. Can you explain to me why it is that you're so jealous, and at
the same time so sure of yourself?
ADOLF. No, I can't explain it, but it may be that the thought that
another man has possessed you, gnaws and consumes me. It seems to me at
times as though our whole love were a figment of the brain--a passion
that had turned into a formal matter of honor. I know nothing which
would be more intolerable for me to bear, than for him to have the
satisfaction of making me unhappy. Ah, I've never seen him, but the very
thought that there is such a man who watches in secret for my
unhappiness, who conjures down on me the curse of heaven day by day, who
would laugh and gloat over my fall--the very idea of the thing lies like
a nightmare on my breast, drives me to you, holds me spellbound,
cripples me.
THEKLA [_goes behind the circular table and comes on Adolf's right_]. Do
you think I should like to give him that satisfaction, that I should
like to make his prophecy come true?
ADOLF. No, I won't believe that of you.
THEKLA. Then if that's so, why aren't you easy on the subject?
ADOLF. It's your flirtations which keep me in a chronic state of
agitation. Why do you go on playing that game?
THEKLA. It's no game. I want to be liked, that's all.
ADOLF. Quite so; but only liked by men.
THEKLA. Of course. Do you suggest it would be possible for one of us
women to get herself liked by other women?
ADOLF. I say. [_Pause._] Haven't you heard recently--from him?
THEKLA. Not for the last six months.
ADOLF. Do you never think of him?
THEKLA [_after a pause, quickly and tonelessly_]. No. [_With a step
toward the left._] Since the death of the child there is no longer any
tie between us. [_Pause._]
ADOLF. And you never see him in the street?
THEKLA. No; he must have buried himself somewhere on the west coast. But
why do you harp on that subject just now?
ADOLF. I don't know. When I was so alone these last few days, it just
occurred to me what he must have felt like when he was left stranded.
THEKLA. I believe you've got pangs of conscience.
ADOLF. Yes.
THEKLA. You think you're a thief, don't you?
ADOLF. Pretty near.
THEKLA. All right. You steal women like you steal children or fowl. You
regard me to some extent like his real or personal property. Much
obliged.
ADOLF. No; I regard you as his wife, and that's more than property: it
can't be made up in damages.
THEKLA. Oh yes, it can. If you happen to hear one fine day that he has
married again, these whims and fancies of yours will disappear. [_She
comes over to him._] Haven't you made up for him to me?
ADOLF. Have I?--and did you use to love him in those days?
THEKLA [_goes behind him to the fireplace on the right_]. Of course I
loved him--certainly.
ADOLF. And afterwards?
THEKLA. I got tired of him.
ADOLF. And just think, if you get tired of me in the same way?
THEKLA. That will never be.
ADOLF. But suppose another man came along with all the qualities that
you want in a man? Assume the hypothesis, wouldn't you leave me in that
case?
THEKLA. No.
ADOLF. If he riveted you to him so strongly that you couldn't be parted
from him, then of course you'd give me up?
THEKLA. No; I have never yet said anything like that.
ADOLF. But you can't love two people at the same time?
THEKLA. Oh yes. Why not?
ADOLF. I can't understand it.
THEKLA. Is anything then impossible simply because you can't understand
it? All men are not made on the same lines, you know.
ADOLF [_getting up a few steps to the left_]. I am now beginning to
understand.
THEKLA. No, really?
ADOLF [_sits down in his previous place by the square table_]. No,
really? [_Pause, during which he appears to be making an effort to
remember something, but without success._] Thekla, do you know that your
frankness is beginning to be positively agonizing? [_Thekla moves away
from him behind the square table and goes behind the sofa on the left._]
Haven't you told me, times out of number, that frankness is the most
beautiful virtue you know, and that I must spend all my time in
acquiring it? But it seems to me you take cover behind your frankness.
THEKLA. Those are the new tactics, don't you see.
ADOLF [_after a pause_]. I don't know how it is, but this place begins
to feel uncanny. If you don't mind, we'll travel home this very night.
THEKLA. What an idea you've got into your head again. I've just arrived,
and I've no wish to travel off again.
[_She sits down on the sofa on the left._]
ADOLF. But if I want it?
THEKLA. Nonsense! What do I care what you want? Travel alone.
ADOLF [_seriously_]. I now order you to travel with me by the next
steamer.
THEKLA. Order? What do you mean by that?
ADOLF. Do you forget that you're my wife?
THEKLA [_getting up_]. Do you forget that you're my husband?
ADOLF [_following her example_]. That's just the difference between one
sex and the other.
THEKLA. That's right, speak in that tone--you have never loved me.
[_She goes past him to the right up to the fireplace._]
ADOLF. Really?
THEKLA. No, for loving means giving.
ADOLF. For a man to love means giving, for a woman to love means
taking--and I've given, given, given.
THEKLA. Oh, to be sure, you've given a fine lot, haven't you?
ADOLF. Everything.
THEKLA [_leans on the chimneypiece_]. There has been a great deal
besides that. And even if you did give me everything, I accepted it.
What do you mean by coming now and handing the bill for your presents?
If I did take them, I proved to you by that very fact that I loved you.
[_She approaches him._] A girl only takes presents from her lover.
ADOLF. From her lover, I agree. There you spoke the truth. [_With a step
to the left._] I was just your lover, but never your husband.
THEKLA. A man ought to be jolly grateful when he's spared the necessity
of playing cover, but if you aren't satisfied with the position you can
have your _conge_. I don't like a husband.
ADOLF. No, I noticed as much, for when I remarked, some time back, that
you wanted to sneak away from me, and get a set of your own, so as to be
able to deck yourself out with my feathers, to scintillate with my
jewels, I wanted to remind you of your guilt. And then I changed from
your point of view into that inconvenient creditor, whom a woman would
particularly prefer to keep at a safe distance from one, and then you
would have liked to have canceled the debt, and to avoid getting any
more into my debt; you ceased to pilfer my coffers and transferred your
attention to others. I was your husband without having wished it, and
your hate began to arise; but now I'm going to be your husband, whether
you want it or not. I can't be your lover any more, that's certain!
[_He sits down in his previous place on the right._]
THEKLA [_half joking, she moves away behind the table and goes behind
the sofa_]. Don't talk such nonsense.
ADOLF. You be careful! It's a dangerous game, to consider every one else
an ass and only oneself smart.
THEKLA. Everybody does that more or less.
ADOLF. And I'm just beginning to suspect that that husband of yours
wasn't such an ass after all.
THEKLA. Good God! I really believe you're beginning to have
sympathy--for him?
ADOLF. Yes, almost.
THEKLA. Well, look here. Wouldn't you like to make his acquaintance, so
as to pour out your heart to him if you want to? What a charming
picture! But I, too, begin to feel myself drawn to him somehow. I'm
tired of being the nurse of a baby like you. [_She goes a few steps
forward and passes by Adolf on the right._] He at any rate was a man,
even though he did make the mistake of being my husband.
ADOLF. Hush, hush! But don't talk so loud, we might be heard.
THEKLA. What does it matter, so long as we're taken for man and wife.
ADOLF. So this is what it comes to then? You are now beginning to be
keen both on manly men and pure boys.
THEKLA. There are no limits to my keenness, as you see. And my heart is
open to the whole world, great and small, beautiful and ugly. I love the
whole world.
ADOLF [_standing up_]. Do you know what that means?
THEKLA. No, I don't know, I only feel.
ADOLF. It means that old age has arrived.
THEKLA. Are you starting on that again now? Take care!
ADOLF. You take care!
THEKLA. What of?
ADOLF. Of this knife.
[_Goes towards her._]
THEKLA [_flippantly_]. Little brother shouldn't play with such dangerous
toys.
[_She passes by him behind the sofa._]
ADOLF. I'm not playing any longer.
THEKLA [_leaning on the arm of the sofa_]. Really, he's serious, is he,
quite serious? Then I'll jolly well show you--that you made a mistake. I
mean--you'll never see it yourself, you'll never know it. The whole
world will be up to it, but you jolly well won't, you'll have suspicions
and surmises and you won't enjoy a single hour of peace. You will have
the consciousness of being ridiculous and of being deceived, but you'll
never have proofs in your hand, because a husband never manages to get
them. [_She makes a few steps to the right in front of him and toward
him._] That will teach you to know me.
ADOLF [_sits down in his previous place by the table on the left_]. You
hate me.
THEKLA. No, I don't hate you, nor do I think that I could ever get to
hate you. Simply because you're a child.
ADOLF. Listen to me! Just think of the time when the storm broke over
us. [_Standing up._] You lay there like a new-born child and shrieked;
you caught hold of my knees and I had to kiss your eyes to sleep. Then I
was your nurse, and I had to be careful that you didn't go out into the
street without doing your hair. I had to send your boots to the
shoe-maker. I had to take care there was something in the larder. I had
to sit by your side and hold your hand in mine by the hour, for you were
frightened, frightened of the whole world, deserted by your friends,
crushed by public opinion. I had to cheer you up till my tongue stuck to
my palate and my head ached; I had to pose as a strong man, and compel
myself to believe in the future, until at length I succeeded in
breathing life into you while you lay there like the dead. Then it was I
you admired, then it was I who was the man; not the athlete like the man
you deserted, but the man of psychic strength, the man of magnetism, who
transferred his moral force into your enervated muscles and filled your
empty brain with new electricity. And then I put you on your feet again,
got a small court for you, whom I jockeyed into admiring you, as a sheer
matter of friendship to myself, and I made you mistress over me and my
home. I painted you in my finest pictures, in rose and azure on a ground
of gold, and there was no exhibition in which you didn't have the place
of honor. At one moment you were called St. Cecelia, then you were Mary
Stuart, Karm Mansdotter, Ebba Brahe, and so I succeeded in awakening and
stimulating your interests and so I compelled the yelping rabble to look
at you with my own dazzled eyes. I impressed your personality on them by
sheer force. I compelled them until you had won their overwhelming
sympathy--so that at last you have the free _entree_. And when I had
created you in this way it was all up with my own strength--I broke
down, exhausted by the strain. [_He sits down in his previous place.
Thekla turns toward the fireplace on the right._] I had lifted you up,
but at the same time I brought myself down; I fell ill; and my illness
began to bore you, just because things were beginning to look a bit rosy
for you--and then it seemed to me many times as though some secret
desire were driving you to get away from your creditor and accomplice.
Your love became that of a superior sister, and through want of a better
part I fell into the habit of the new role of the little brother. Your
tenderness remained the same as ever, in fact it has rather increased,
but it is tinged with a grain of pity which is counterbalanced by a
strong dose of contempt, and that will increase until it becomes
complete, even as my genius is on the wane and your star is in the
ascendant. It seems, too, as though your source were likely to dry up,
when I leave off feeding it, or, rather, as soon as you show that you
don't want to draw your inspiration from me any longer. And so we both
go down, but you need somebody you can put in your pocket, somebody new,
for you are weak and incapable of carrying any moral burden yourself. So
I became the scapegoat to be slaughtered alive, but all the same we had
become like twins in the course of years, and when you cut through the
thread of my longing, you little thought that you were throttling our
own self. You are a branch from my tree, and you wanted to cut yourself
free from your parent stem before it had struck roots, but you are
unable to flourish on your own, and the tree in its turn couldn't do
without its chief branch, and so both perish.
THEKLA. Do you mean, by all that, that you've written my books?
ADOLF. No; you say that so as to provoke me into a lie. I don't express
myself so crudely as you, and I've just spoken for five minutes on end
simply so as to reproduce all the nuances, all the half-tones, all the
transitions, but your barrel organ has only one key.
THEKLA [_walking up and down on the right_]. Yes, yes; but the gist of
the whole thing is that you've written my books.
ADOLF. No, there's no gist. You can't resolve a symphony into one key;
you can't translate a multifarious life into a single cipher. I never
said anything so crass as that I'd written your books.
THEKLA. But you meant it all the same.
ADOLF [_furious_]. I never meant it.
THEKLA. But the result--
ADOLF [_wildly_]. There's no result if one doesn't add. There is a
quotient, a long infinitesimal figure of a quotient, but I didn't add.
THEKLA. You didn't, but I can.
ADOLF. I quite believe you, but I never did.
THEKLA. But you wanted to.
ADOLF [_exhausted, shutting his eyes_]. No, no, no--don't speak to me
any more, I'm getting convulsions--be quiet, go away! You're flaying my
brain with your brutal pinchers--you're thrusting your claws into my
thoughts and tearing them.
[_He loses consciousness, stares in front of him and turns his
thumbs inwards._]
THEKLA [_tenderly coming towards him_]. What is it, dear? Are you ill?
[_Adolf beats around him. Thekla takes her handkerchief, pours water on
to it out of the bottle on the table right of the center door, and cools
his forehead with it._] Adolf!
ADOLF [_he shakes his head_]. Yes.
THEKLA. Do you see now that you were wrong?
ADOLF [_after a pause_]. Yes, yes, yes--I see it.
THEKLA. And you ask me to forgive you?
ADOLF. Yes, yes, yes--I ask you to forgive me; but don't talk right into
my brain any more.
THEKLA. Now kiss my hand.
ADOLF. I'll kiss your hand, if only you won't speak to me any more.
THEKLA. And now you'll go out and get some fresh air before dinner.
ADOLF [_getting up_]. Yes, that will do me good, and afterwards we'll
pack up and go away.
THEKLA. No.
[_She moves away from him up to the fireplace on the right._]
ADOLF. Why not? You must have some reason.
THEKLA. The simple reason that I've arranged to be at the reception this
evening.
ADOLF. That's it, is it?
THEKLA. That's it right enough. I've promised to be there.
ADOLF. Promised? You probably said that you'd try to come; it doesn't
prevent you from explaining that you have given up your intention.
THEKLA. No, I'm not like you: my word is binding on me.
ADOLF. One's word can be binding without one being obliged to respect
every casual thing one lets fall in conversation; or did somebody make
you promise that you'd go? In that case, you can ask him to release you
because your husband is ill.
THEKLA. No, I've no inclination to do so. And, besides, you're not so
ill that you can't quite well come along too.
ADOLF. Why must I always come along too? Does it contribute to your
greater serenity?
THEKLA. I don't understand what you mean.
ADOLF. That's what you always say when you know I mean something which
you don't like.
THEKLA. Re-a-lly? And why shouldn't I like it?
ADOLF. Stop! stop! Don't start all over again--good-by for the
present--I'll be back soon; I hope that in the meanwhile you'll have
thought better of it.
[_Exit through the central door and then toward the right. Thekla
accompanies him to the back of the stage. Gustav enters, after a
pause, from the right._]