ALLMERS. You are right there. You see, I have been such a fool hitherto. All the best that is in you goes into thinking. What you put on paper is worth very little.
ASTA. [Exclaiming.] Worth very little!
RITA. [Laughing.] What an absurd thing to say, Alfred.
EYOLF. [Looks confidingly up at him.] Oh yes, Papa, what you write is worth a great deal!
ALLMERS. [Smiling and stroking his hair.] Well, well, since you say so.—But I can tell you, someone is coming after me who will do it better.
EYOLF. Who can that be? Oh, tell me!
ALLMERS. Only wait—you may be sure he will come, and let us hear of him.
EYOLF. And what will you do then?
ALLMERS. [Seriously.] Then I will go to the mountains again—
RITA. Fie, Alfred! For shame!