TEKLA. Well, tell me now what you have been doing to make the time go?
Have you painted anything?
ADOLPH. No, I am done with painting.
TEKLA. What? Done with painting?
ADOLPH. Yes, but don't scold me for it. How can I help it that I can't
paint any longer!
TEKLA. What do you mean to do then?
ADOLPH. I'll become a sculptor.
TEKLA. What a lot of brand new ideas again!
ADOLPH. Yes, but please don't scold! Look at that figure over there.
TEKLA. [Uncovering the wax figure] Well, I declare!--Who is that meant
for?
ADOLPH. Guess!
TEKLA. Is it Pussy? Has he got no shame at all?
ADOLPH. Is it like?
TEKLA. How can I tell when there is no face?
ADOLPH. Yes, but there is so much else--that's beautiful!
TEKLA. [Taps him playfully on the cheek] Now he must keep still or I'll
have to kiss him.
ADOLPH. [Holding her back] Now, now!--Somebody might come!
TEKLA. Well, what do I care? Can't I kiss my own husband, perhaps? Oh
yes, that's my lawful right.
ADOLPH. Yes, but don't you know--in the hotel here, they don't believe
we are married, because we are kissing each other such a lot. And it
makes no difference that we quarrel now and then, for lovers are said to
do that also.
TEKLA. Well, but what's the use of quarrelling? Why can't he always be
as nice as he is now? Tell me now? Can't he try? Doesn't he want us to
be happy?