Don't you intend to practice after that at all?
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
Don't think so. No—no more. [He pushes back the tray with the dishes and wipes his mouth.] By the way, let's see your hand. [LOTH holds up both his hands for inspection.] I see. You've taken no wife to your bosom yet. Haven't found one, I suppose. I remember you always wanted primaeval vigour in the woman of your choice on account of the soundness of the strain. And you're quite right, too. If one takes a risk, it ought to be a good one. Or maybe you've become less stringent in that respect.
LOTH
Not a bit! You may take your oath.
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
I wish the farmers around here had such notions. But they're in a wretched condition—degeneration along the whole line … [He has half taken his cigar case from his inner pocket but lets it slip back and arises as a sound penetrates through the door which is only ajar.] Wait a moment! [He goes on tiptoe to the door leading to the hall and listens. A door is heard to open and close, and for several moments the moans of the woman in labour are audible. The DOCTOR, turning to LOTH, says softly.] Excuse me!
[And goes out.
For several seconds, while the slamming of doors is heard and the sound of people running up and down the stairs, LOTH paces the room. Then he sits down in the arm-chair in the foreground, right. HELEN slips in and throws her arms about LOTH, who has not observed her coming from, behind.