BERTHA. Such impudence! Do you know, I had a good mind to tame him, break him so that he'd come back crawling to me.
ABEL. Yes, that tweak the salon disappointment gave him doesn't seem to have taken all the spunk out of him. Bertha, tell me, have you ever loved that clown?
BERTHA. Loved him? I liked him very much because he was nice to me. But he is so silly and—when he nags as he did just now, I feel that I could hate him. Think of it, it's already around that he painted my picture!
ABEL. Well, if it's gone as far as that, then you must do something éclatant.
BERTHA. If I only knew how!
ABEL. I'm usually inventive. Let me see. Look here, why couldn't you have his refused picture brought home just as all your friends have gathered here?
BERTHA. No, that would look as if I wanted to triumph. No, that would be too terrible.
ABEL. Yes, but if I should have it done? Or Gaga, that would be better still. It would be sent here in Axel's name by the porter. It's got to come home anyway, and it's no secret that it was refused.
BERTHA. No, but you know—
ABEL. What? Hasn't he spread false reports, and haven't you the right to defend yourself?