ADOLPH.  Yes, but it seems to me as if you were hiding something behind that frankness of yours.

TEKLA.  That’s the new tactics, you know.

ADOLPH.  I don’t know why, but this place has suddenly become offensive to me.  If you feel like it, we might return home—­this evening!

TEKLA.  What kind of notion is that?  I have barely arrived and I don’t feel like starting on another trip.

ADOLPH.  But I want to.

TEKLA.  Well, what’s that to me?—­You can go!

ADOLPH.  But I demand that you take the next boat with me!

TEKLA.  Demand?—­What arc you talking about?

ADOLPH.  Do you realise that you are my wife?

TEKLA.  Do you realise that you are my husband?

ADOLPH.  Well, there’s a difference between those two things.

TEKLA.  Oh, that’s the way you are talking now!—­You have never loved me!

ADOLPH.  Haven’t I?

TEKLA.  No, for to love is to give.

ADOLPH.  To love like a man is to give; to love like a woman is to take.—­And I have given, given, given!

TEKLA.  Pooh!  What have you given?

ADOLPH.  Everything!

TEKLA.  That’s a lot!  And if it be true, then I must have taken it.  Are you beginning to send in bills for your gifts now?  And if I have taken anything, this proves only my love for you.  A woman cannot receive anything except from her lover.

ADOLPH.  Her lover, yes!  There you spoke the truth!  I have been your lover, but never your husband.

TEKLA.  Well, isn’t that much more agreeable—­to escape playing chaperon?  But if you are not satisfied with your position, I’ll send you packing, for I don’t want a husband.

ADOLPH.  No, that’s what I have noticed.  For a while ago, when you began to sneak away from me like a thief with his booty, and when you began to seek company of your own where you could flaunt my plumes and display my gems, then I felt, like reminding you of your debt.  And at once I became a troublesome creditor whom you wanted to get rid of.  You wanted to repudiate your own notes, and in order not to increase your debt to me, you stopped pillaging my safe and began to try those of other people instead.  Without having done anything myself, I became to you merely the husband.  And now I am going to be your husband whether you like it or not, as I am not allowed to be your lover any longer,

TEKLA. [Playfully] Now he shouldn’t talk nonsense, the sweet little idiot!

ADOLPH.  Look out:  it’s dangerous to think everybody an idiot but oneself!

TEKLA.  But that’s what everybody thinks.

ADOLPH.  And I am beginning to suspect that he—­your former husband—­was not so much of an idiot after all.

TEKLA.  Heavens!  Are you beginning to sympathise with—­him?

ADOLPH.  Yes, not far from it,

TEKLA.  Well, well!  Perhaps you would like to make his acquaintance and pour out your overflowing heart to him?  What a striking picture!  But I am also beginning to feel drawn to him, as I am growing more and more tired of acting as wetnurse.  For he was at least a man, even though he had the fault of being married to me.