Thekla. But the result
Adolf.[Wildly.] There’s no result if one doesn’t add. There is a quotient, a long infinitesimal figure of a quotient, but I didn’t add.
Thekla. You didn’t, but I can.
Adolf. I quite believe you, but I never did.
Thekla. But you wanted to.
Adolf.[Exhausted, shutting his eyes.] No, no, no— don’t speak to me any more, I’m getting convulsions— be quiet, go away! You’re flaying my brain with your brutal pincers—you’re thrusting your claws into my thoughts and tearing them. [He loses consciousness, stares in front of hint and turns his thumbs inward.]
Thekla.[Tenderly coming toward him-.] What is it, dear? Are you ill? [ADOLF beats around him. THEKLA takes her handkerchief, pours waiter on to it out of the bottle on the table right of the center door, and cools his forehead with it.] Adolf!
Adolf.[He shakes his head.] Yes.
Thekla. Do you see now that you were wrong?
Adolf.[After a pause’.] Yes, yes, yes—I see it.