Axel. I am taken like that sometimes.
Mother. But what is it? Evidently you are not as happy as we hoped you would be. Confide in us, Axel; we are your parents now, you know.
Axel. It is something I have been thinking about for a long time, but have not had the courage to mention.
Mother. Why? Aren't we good to you?
Axel. You are much too good to me.
Father. What do you mean by that?
Axel. That everything is made far too smooth for me here; my faculties get no exercise; I cannot satisfy my longing for activity and conflict—nor my ambition.
Father. Dear me! What do you want, if you please?
Axel. I want to work for myself, to owe my position in life to my own efforts—to become something.
Father. Really.—What a foolish idea! (Moves towards the door.)