GUSTAV. [Making a face] Oh-h-h!
ADOLPH. It was I who praised her, even when I found her stuff rather
poor. It was I who brought her into literary circles where she could
gather honey from our most ornamental literary flowers. It was I who
used my personal influence to keep the critics from her throat. It was I
who blew her faith in herself into flame; blew on it until I lost my own
breath. I gave, gave, gave--until I had nothing left for myself. Do you
know--I'll tell you everything now--do you know I really believe--and
the human soul is so peculiarly constituted--I believe that when my
artistic successes seemed about to put her in the shadow--as well as her
reputation--then I tried to put courage into her by belittling myself,
and by making my own art seem inferior to hers. I talked so long about
the insignificant part played by painting on the whole--talked so long
about it, and invented so many reasons to prove what I said, that one
fine day I found myself convinced of its futility. So all you had to do
was to breathe on a house of cards.
GUSTAV. Pardon me for recalling what you said at the beginning of our
talk--that she had never taken anything from you.
ADOLPH. She doesn't nowadays. Because there is nothing more to take.
GUSTAV. The snake being full, it vomits now.
ADOLPH. Perhaps she has been taking a good deal more from me than I have
been aware of?
GUSTAV. You can be sure of that. She took when you were not looking, and
that is called theft.
ADOLPH. Perhaps she never did educate me?
GUSTAV. But you her? In all likelihood! But it was her trick to make it
appear the other way to you. May I ask how she set about educating you?
ADOLPH. Oh, first of all--hm!
GUSTAV. Well?