Beermann.  You call that good fortune?  I might have expected something different from you.

Frau Beermann.  No, sir, you did not.  If you will be honest with me, you will admit that.  This many a year, we have been playing a common farce.  You acted the true Christian head of the family and I the all-believing audience.

Beermann.  How nice!

Frau Beermann.  Not nice but it’s true.  Perhaps the fault is not entirely ours, for we learned it from our parents.  You men are supposed to impress us with your greatness and we women are to stand by and admire.

Beermann.  Do you find that impossible?

Frau Beermann.  Even the best Christian family principles must have some foundation.  What was I supposed to admire?

Beermann.  You ask that now?

Frau Beermann.  Perhaps I gave it up sooner than others.  But that is due to our relationship.  We were always together.  Where is a man to get pose and character enough to last him for twenty-four hours every day?

Beermann.  So that is about your conception of our married life?

Frau Beermann.  That is it exactly.

Beermann.  And after all the years ...

Frau Beermann.  I acquired it rather early.

Beermann.  Now, after twenty-six years you declare that you are unhappy.

Frau Beermann.  No, Fritz, it has not led us to unhappiness.  There has been no sudden shattering of an ideal.  Our marriage was not an ideal and ... don’t feel offended ... your personality was never so immaculate, that one stain more or less would spoil the effect.

Beermann [excited].  But there must be some sort of reason back of all these reproaches?

Frau Beermann.  If you think them reproaches, then we do not understand each other.

Beermann.  What else are they?

Frau Beermann.  I meant it merely as a request.  Do not bring your family into ridicule.

Beermann.  You are playing hide and seek all the time.  In what way am I likely to do that?

Frau Beermann.  With your moral priesthood to which you have absolutely no right.

Beermann.  No right?

Frau Beermann.  Not the slightest one.  But you are creating enemies who will make a laughing-stock of us all, if they find out certain things.  Those things can be found out whether we like it or not.

Beermann [forced laughter].  Lena dear, I believe you are jealous.

Frau Beermann [quietly].  Jealous, of what? [Short pause.] I hope that you credit me with at least good taste enough not to be jealous of my so-called right, and ... otherwise what can I lose?  No, Fritz, I am not jealous. [Short pause, it is getting darker.] I had to get accustomed to it; that’s true.  This secrecy, the petty lies and the false gravity irritated me a little bit too much at first, but I made an effort so that I could still retain a feeling of comradeship.  I overcame it daily, because—­well because I never really took you seriously. [Pause.]