[Reproachfully.] Irene!

IRENE.

You had no longer any use for me—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

How can you say that!

IRENE.

—­and began to look about you for other ideals—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

I found none, none after you.

IRENE.

And no other models, Arnold?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

You were no model to me.  You were the fountainhead of my achievement.

IRENE.

[Is silent for a short time.] What poems have you made since?  In marble I mean.  Since the day I left you.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

I have made no poems since that day—­only frittered away my life in modelling.

IRENE.

And that woman, whom you are now living with—–?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Interrupting vehemently.] Do not speak of her now!  It makes me tingle with shame.

IRENE.

Where are you thinking of going with her?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Slack and weary.] Oh, on a tedious coasting-voyage to the North, I suppose.

IRENE.

[Looks at him, smiles almost imperceptibly, and whispers.] You should rather go high up into the mountains.  As high as ever you can.  Higher, higher,—­always higher, Arnold.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[With eager expectation.] Are you going up there?

IRENE.

Have you the courage to meet me once again?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Struggling with himself, uncertainly.] If we could—­oh, if only we could—–!

IRENE.

Why can we not do what we will? [Looks at him and whispers beseechingly with folded hands.] Come, come, Arnold!  Oh, come up to me—–!

    [MAIA enters, glowing with pleasure, from behind the hotel,
       and goes quickly up to the table where they were previously
       sitting.]

MAIA.

[Still at the corner of the hotel, without looking around.] Oh, you may say what you please, Rubek, but—­[Stops, as she catches sight of IRENE]—­Oh, I beg your pardon—­I see you have made an acquaintance.