Adolph.  Yes, I have had attacks of vertigo now and then, but my physician says it’s only anaemia.

Gustav.  Well, that’s the beginning of it, you know.  But, believe me, it will end in epilepsy if you don’t take care of yourself.

Adolph.  What can I do?

Gustav.  To begin with, you will have to observe complete abstinence.

Adolph.  For how long?

Gustav.  For half a year at least.

Adolph.  I cannot do it.  That would upset our married life.

Gustav.  Good-bye to you then!

Adolph. [Covers up the wax figure] I cannot do it!

Gustav.  Can you not save your own life?—­But tell me, as you have already given me so much of your confidence—­is there no other canker, no secret wound, that troubles you?  For it is very rare to find only one cause of discord, as life is so full of variety and so fruitful in chances for false relationships.  Is there not a corpse in your cargo that you are trying to hide from yourself?—­ For instance, you said a minute ago that you have a child which has been left in other people’s care.  Why don’t you keep it with you?

Adolph.  My wife doesn’t want us to do so.

Gustav.  And her reason?  Speak up now!

Adolph.  Because, when it was about three years old, it began to look like him, her former husband.

Gustav.  Well?  Have you seen her former husband?

Adolph.  No, never.  I have only had a casual glance at a very poor portrait of him, and then I couldn’t detect the slightest resemblance.

Gustav.  Oh, portraits are never like the original, and, besides, he might have changed considerably since it was made.  However, I hope it hasn’t aroused any suspicions in you?

Adolph.  Not at all.  The child was born a year after our marriage, and the husband was abroad when I first met Tekla—­it happened right here, in this very house even, and that’s why we come here every summer.

Gustav.  No, then there can be no cause for suspicion.  And you wouldn’t have had any reason to trouble yourself anyhow, for the children of a widow who marries again often show a likeness to her dead husband.  It is annoying, of course, and that’s why they used to burn all widows in India, as you know.—­But tell me:  have you ever felt jealous of him—­of his memory?  Would it not sicken you to meet him on a walk and hear him, with his eyes on your Tekla, use the word “we” instead of “I"?—­We!

Adolph.  I cannot deny that I have been pursued by that very thought.

Gustav.  There now!—­And you’ll never get rid of it.  There are discords in this life which can never be reduced to harmony.  For this reason you had better put wax in your ears and go to work.  If you work, and grow old, and pile masses of new impressions on the hatches, then the corpse will stay quiet in the hold.