[Vehemently, without moving.] And so ugly as he is! [Plucks up a tuft of heather and throws it away.] So ugly, so ugly! Isch!
Is that why you are so ready to set off with him—out into the wilds?
[Curtly.] I don't know. [Turning towards him.] You are ugly, too, Rubek.
Have you only just discovered it?
No, I have seen it for long.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] One doesn't grow younger. One doesn't grow younger, Frau Maia.
It's not that sort of ugliness that I mean at all. But there has come to be such an expression of fatigue, of utter weariness, in your eyes—when you deign, once in a while, to cast a glance at me.
Have you noticed that?
[Nods.] Little by little this evil look has come into your eyes. It seems almost as though you were nursing some dark plot against me.
Indeed? [In a friendly but earnest tone.] Come here and sit beside me, Maia; and let us talk a little.