GUSTAV. [Lingering on each word] We might be sitting together talking, he and I—and when I had been speaking for a while his face would turn white as chalk, his arms and legs would grow stiff, and his thumbs became twisted against the palms of his hands—like this. [He illustrates the movement and it is imitated by ADOLPH] Then his eyes became bloodshot, and he began to chew— like this. [He chews, and again ADOLPH imitates him] The saliva was rattling in his throat. His chest was squeezed together as if it had been closed in a vice. The pupils of his eyes flickered like gas-jets. His tongue beat the saliva into a lather, and he sank—slowly—down—backward—into the chair—as if he were drowning. And then—
ADOLPH. [In a whisper] Stop now!
GUSTAV. And then—Are you not feeling well?
ADOLPH. No.
GUSTAV. [Gets a glass of water for him] There: drink now. And we'll talk of something else.
ADOLPH. [Feebly] Thank you! Please go on!
GUSTAV. Well—when he came to he couldn't remember anything at all. He had simply lost consciousness. Has that ever happened to you?
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?