I'm perfectly sober all through it. Do you imagine that I surround my darling with a kind of a—well, how shall I put it—a kind of an aureole? Not In the least. She lias her faults; she isn't remarkably beautiful, at least—well, she's certainly not exactly homely either. Judging her quite objectively—of course it's entirely a matter of taste—I haven't seen such a sweet girl before in my life. So when you talk of mere intoxication—nonsense! I am as sober as possible. But, my friend, this is the remarkable thing: I simply can't imagine myself without her any longer. It seems to me like an amalgam, as when two metals are so intimately welded together that you can't say any longer, here's the one, there's the other. And it all seems so utterly inevitable. In short—maybe I'm talking rot—or what I say may seem rot to you, but so much is certain: a man who doesn't know that is a kind of cool-blooded fishy creature. That's the kind of creature I was up till now, and that's the kind of wretched thing you are still.
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
That's a very complete set of symptoms. Queer how you fellows always slide up to the very ears into the particular things that you've long ago rejected theoretically—like yourself into marriage. As long as I've known you, you've struggled with this unhappy mania for marriage.
LOTH
It's instinct with me, sheer instinct. God knows, I can wriggle all I please—there it is.
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
When all's said and done one can fight down even an instinct.
LOTH
Certainly, if there's a good reason, why not?