Gustav.  Oh, that’s my character, is it?—­You ought to learn something about human nature in others before you give your own nature free rein.  Otherwise you may get hurt, and then there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Tekla.  You can never forgive:—­

Gustav.  Yes, I have forgiven you!

Tekla.  You!

Gustav.  Of course!  Have I raised a hand against you during all these years?  No!  And now I came here only to have a look at you, and it was enough to burst your bubble.  Have I uttered a single reproach?  Have I moralised or preached sermons?  No!  I played a joke or two on your dear consort, and nothing more was needed to finish him.—­But there is no reason why I, the complainant, should be defending myself as I am now—­Tekla!  Have you nothing at all to reproach yourself with?

Tekla.  Nothing at all!  Christians say that our actions are governed by Providence; others call it Fate; in either case, are we not free from all liability?

Gustav.  In a measure, yes; but there is always a narrow margin left unprotected, and there the liability applies in spite of all.  And sooner or later the creditors make their appearance.  Guiltless, but accountable!  Guiltless in regard to one who is no more; accountable to oneself and one’s fellow beings.

Tekla.  So you came here to dun me?

Gustav.  I came to take back what you had stolen, not what you had received as a gift.  You had stolen my honour, and I could recover it only by taking yours.  This, I think, was my right—­or was it not?

Tekla.  Honour?  Hm!  And now you feel satisfied?

Gustav.  Now I feel satisfied. [Rings for a waiter.]

Tekla.  And now you are going home to your fiancee?

Gustav.  I have no fiancee!  Nor am I ever going to have one.  I am not going home, for I have no home, and don’t want one.

(A waiter comes in.)

Gustav.  Get me my bill—­I am leaving by the eight o’clock boat.

(The waiter bows and goes out.)

Tekla.  Without making up?

Gustav.  Making up?  You use such a lot of words that have lost their—­meaning.  Why should we make up?  Perhaps you want all three of us to live together?  You, if anybody, ought to make up by making good what you took away, but this you cannot do.  You just took, and what you took you consumed, so that there is nothing left to restore.—­Will it satisfy you if I say like this:  forgive me that you tore my heart to pieces; forgive me that you disgraced me; forgive me that you made me the laughing-stock of my pupils through every week-day of seven long years; forgive me that I set you free from parental restraints, that I released you from the tyranny of ignorance and superstition, that I set you to rule my house, that I gave you position and friends, that I made a woman out of the child you were before?  Forgive me as I forgive you!—­ Now I have torn up your note!  Now you can go and settle your account with the other one!