PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Only curious?  Not a little bit uneasy.

MAIA.

[Shaking her head.] Not in the least.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Good.  Then listen.—­You said that day down at the Baths that it seemed to you I had become very nervous of late—–­

MAIA.

Yes, and you really have.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

And what do you think can be the reason of that?

MAIA.

How can I tell—–? [Quickly.] Perhaps you have grown weary of this constant companionship with me.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Constant—?  Why not say “everlasting”?

MAIA.

Daily companionship, then.  Here have we two solitary people lived down there for four or five mortal years, and scarcely have an hour away from each other.—­We two all by ourselves.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[With interest.] Well?  And then—–?

MAIA.

[A little oppressed.] You are not a particularly sociable man, Rubek.  You like to keep to yourself and think your own thoughts.  And of course I can’t talk properly to you about your affairs.  I know nothing about art and that sort of thing—­ [With an impatient gesture.] And care very little either, for that matter!

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Well, well; and that’s why we generally sit by the fireside, and chat about your affairs.

MAIA.

Oh, good gracious—­I have no affairs to chat about.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Well, they are trifles, perhaps; but at any rate the time passes for us in that way as well as another, Maia.

MAIA.

Yes, you are right.  Time passes.  It is passing away from you, Rubek.  —­And I suppose it is really that that makes you so uneasy—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Nods vehemently.] And so restless! [Writhing in his seat.] No, I shall soon not be able to endure this pitiful life any longer.

MAIA.

[Rises and stands for a moment looking at him.] If you want to get rid of me, you have only to say so.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Why will you use such phrases?  Get rid of you?