TEKLA.  Do you think I would let him have that joy?  Do you think I would make his prophecy come true?

ADOLPH.  No, I cannot think you would.

TEKLA.  Why don’t you keep calm then?

ADOLPH.  No, you upset me constantly by your coquetry.  Why do you play that kind of game?

TEKLA.  It is no game.  I want to be admired—­that’s all!

ADOLPH.  Yes, but only by men!

TEKLA.  Of course!  For a woman is never admired by other women.

ADOLPH.  Tell me, have you heard anything—­from him—­recently?

TEKLA.  Not in the last sis months.

ADOLPH.  Do you ever think of him?

TEKLA.  No!—­Since the child died we have broken off our correspondence.

ADOLPH.  And you have never seen him at all?

TEKLA.  No, I understand he is living somewhere down on the West
Coast.  But why is all this coming into your head just now?

ADOLPH.  I don’t know.  But during the last few days, while I was alone, I kept thinking of him—­how he might have felt when he was left alone that time.

TEKLA.  Are you having an attack of bad conscience?

ADOLPH.  I am.

TEKLA.  You feel like a thief, do you?

ADOLPH.  Almost!

TEKLA.  Isn’t that lovely!  Women can be stolen as you steal children or chickens?  And you regard me as his chattel or personal property.  I am very much obliged to you!

ADOLPH.  No, I regard you as his wife.  And that’s a good deal more than property—­for there can be no substitute.  TEKLA.  Oh, yes!  If you only heard that he had married again, all these foolish notions would leave you.—­Have you not taken his place with me?

ADOLPH.  Well, have I?—­And did you ever love him?

TEKLA.  Of course, I did!

ADOLPH.  And then—­

TEKLA.  I grew tired of him!

ADOLPH.  And if you should tire of me also?

TEKLA.  But I won’t!

ADOLPH.  If somebody else should turn up—­one who had all the qualities you are looking for in a man now—­suppose only—­then you would leave me?

TEKLA.  No.

ADOLPH.  If he captivated you?  So that you couldn’t live without him?  Then you would leave me, of course?

TEKLA.  No, that doesn’t follow.

ADOLPH.  But you couldn’t love two at the same time, could you?

TEKLA.  Yes!  Why not?

ADOLPH.  That’s something I cannot understand.

TEKLA.  But things exist although you do not understand them.  All persons are not made in the same way, you know.

ADOLPH.  I begin to see now!

TEKLA.  No, really!

ADOLPH.  No, really? [A pause follows, during which he seems to struggle with some—­memory that will not come back] Do you know, Tekla, that your frankness is beginning to be painful?

TEKLA.  And yet it used to be my foremost virtue In your mind, and one that you taught me.