CURT. If he be as terrible as you say, then there is reason to fear him.
ALICE. Didn't you hear how he wanted to steal you, to tie your hands by means of pretended obligations that do not exist? For instance, he has done nothing to get you this position, but has, on the contrary, tried to keep you out of it. He is a man-thief, an insect, one of those wood-borers that eat up your insides so that one day you find yourself as hollow as a dying pine tree. He hates you, although he is bound to you by the memory of your youthful friendship——
CURT. How keen-witted we are made by our hatreds!
ALICE. And stupid by our loves—blind and stupid!
CURT. Oh, no, don't say that!
ALICE. Do you know what is meant by a vampire? They say it is the soul of a dead person seeking a body in which it may live as a parasite. Edgar is dead—ever since he fell down on the floor that time. You see, he has no interests of his own, no personality, no initiative. But if he can only get hold of some other person he hangs on to him, sends down roots into him, and begins to flourish and blossom. Now he has fastened himself on you.
CURT. If he comes too close I'll shake him off.
ALICE. Try to shake off a burr! Listen: do you know why he does not want Judith and Allan to play?
CURT. I suppose he is concerned about their feelings.
ALICE. Not at all. He wants to marry Judith to—the Colonel!