ADOLPH.  What terrible power there must be in you!  It feels as if I were touching an electrical generator.

GUSTAV.  And bear in mind that I have been as weak as you are now.—­ Stand up!

ADOLPH. [Rises, but keeps himself from falling only by throwing his arms around the neck of GUSTAV] I am like a boneless baby, and my brain seems to lie bare.

GUSTAV.  Take a turn across the floor!

ADOLPH.  I cannot!

GUSTAV.  Do what I say, or I’ll strike you!

ADOLPH. [Straightening himself up] What are you saying?

GUSTAV.  I’ll strike you, I said.

ADOLPH. [Leaping backward in a rage] You!

GUSTAV.  That’s it!  Now you have got the blood into your head, and your self-assurance is awake.  And now I’ll give you some electriticy:  where is your wife?

ADOLPH.  Where is she?

GUSTAV.  Yes.

ADOLPH.  She is—­at—­a meeting.

GUSTAV.  Sure?

ADOLPH.  Absolutely!

GUSTAV.  What kind of meeting?

ADOLPH.  Oh, something relating to an orphan asylum.

GUSTAV.  Did you part as friends?

ADOLPH. [With some hesitation] Not as friends.

GUSTAV.  As enemies then!—­What did you say that provoked her?

ADOLPH.  You are terrible.  I am afraid of you.  How could you know?

GUSTAV.  It’s very simple:  I possess three known factors, and with their help I figure out the unknown one.  What did you say to her?

ADOLPH.  I said—­two words only, but they were dreadful, and I regret them—­regret them very much.

GUSTAV.  Don’t do it!  Tell me now?

ADOLPH.  I said:  “Old flirt!”

GUSTAV.  What more did you say?

ADOLPH.  Nothing at all.

GUSTAV.  Yes, you did, but you have forgotten it—­perhaps because you don’t dare remember it.  You have put it away in a secret drawer, but you have got to open it now!

ADOLPH.  I can’t remember!

GUSTAV.  But I know.  This is what you said:  “You ought to be ashamed of flirting when you are too old to have any more lovers!”

ADOLPH.  Did I say that?  I must have said it!—­But how can you know that I did?

GUSTAV.  I heard her tell the story on board the boat as I came here.

ADOLPH.  To whom?

GUSTAV.  To four young men who formed her company.  She is already developing a taste for chaste young men, just like—­

ADOLPH.  But there is nothing wrong in that?

GUSTAV.  No more than in playing brother and sister when you are papa and mamma.

ADOLPH.  So you have seen her then?

GUSTAV.  Yes, I have.  But you have never seen her when you didn’t—­ I mean, when you were not present.  And there’s the reason, you see, why a husband can never really know his wife.  Have you a portrait of her?

(Adolph takes a photograph from his pocketbook.  There is a look of aroused curiosity on his face.)