[With a wild smile.] Oh no—­I myself have a resource against that.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

What resource do you mean?

IRENE.

[Drawing out the knife.] This!

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Tries to seize it.] Have you a knife?

IRENE.

Always, always—­both day and night—­in bed as well!

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Give me that knife, Irene!

IRENE.

[Concealing it.] You shall not have it.  I may very likely find a use for it myself.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

What use can you have for it, here?

IRENE.

[Looks fixedly at him.] It was intended for you, Arnold.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

For me!

IRENE.

As we were sitting by the Lake of Taunitz last evening—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

By the Lake of—–­

IRENE.

—­outside the peasant’s hut—­and playing with swans and water-lilies—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

What then—­what then?

IRENE.

—­and when I heard you say with such deathly, icy coldness—­that I was nothing but an episode in your life—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

It was you that said that, Irene, not I.

IRENE.

[Continuing.] —­then I had my knife out.  I wanted to stab you in the back with it.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Darkly.] And why did you hold your hand?

IRENE.

Because it flashed upon me with a sudden horror that you were dead already—­long ago.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Dead?

IRENE.

Dead.  Dead, you as well as I. We sat there by the Lake of Taunitz, we two clay-cold bodies—­and played with each other.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

I do not call that being dead.  But you do not understand me.

IRENE.