Tekla. [Cynically] Do you think so?

Gustav.  That reminds me of the story—­you know it—­“How could your majesty see that?”

Tekla, [Laughing aloud] You are impossible!—­Do you know any new stories?

Gustav.  No, but you ought to have some.

Tekla.  Oh, I never hear anything funny nowadays.

Gustav.  Is he modest also?

Tekla.  Oh—­well—­

Gustav.  Not an everything?

Tekla.  He isn’t well just now.

Gustav.  Well, why should little brother put his nose into other people’s hives?

Tekla. [Laughing] You crazy thing!

Gustav.  Poor chap!—­Do you remember once when we were just married—­we lived in this very room.  It was furnished differently in those days.  There was a chest of drawers against that wall there—­and over there stood the big bed.

Tekla.  Now you stop!

Gustav.  Look at me!

Tekla.  Well, why shouldn’t I?

[They look hard at each other.]

Gustav.  Do you think a person can ever forget anything that has made a very deep impression on him?

Tekla.  No!  And our memories have a tremendous power.  Particularly the memories of our youth.

Gustav.  Do you remember when I first met you?  Then you were a pretty little girl:  a slate on which parents and governesses had made a few scrawls that I had to wipe out.  And then I filled it with inscriptions that suited my own mind, until you believed the slate could hold nothing more.  That’s the reason, you know, why I shouldn’t care to be in your husband’s place—­well, that’s his business!  But it’s also the reason why I take pleasure in meeting you again.  Our thoughts fit together exactly.  And as I sit here and chat with you, it seems to me like drinking old wine of my own bottling.  Yes, it’s my own wine, but it has gained a great deal in flavour!  And now, when I am about to marry again, I have purposely picked out a young girl whom I can educate to suit myself.  For the woman, you know, is the man’s child, and if she is not, he becomes hers, and then the world turns topsy-turvy.

Tekla.  Are you going to marry again?

Gustav.  Yes, I want to try my luck once more, but this time I am going to make a better start, so that it won’t end again with a spill.

Tekla.  Is she good looking?

Gustav.  Yes, to me.  But perhaps I am too old.  It’s queer—­now when chance has brought me together with you again—­I am beginning to doubt whether it will be possible to play the game over again.

Tekla.  How do you mean?

Gustav.  I can feel that my roots stick in your soil, and the old wounds are beginning to break open.  You are a dangerous woman, Tekla!

Tekla.  Am I?  And my young husband says that I can make no more conquests.