Thekla. How noble, how great to acknowledge one’s weakness so frankly—it’s not all men who can bring themselves to that point. [She sighs.] But you are always an honest character, straight and reliable—which I knew how to respect—but
Gustav. I wasn’t—not then, but suffering purges, care ennobles, and—and—I have suffered.
Thekla.[Comes nearer to him.] Poor Gustav, can you forgive me, can you? Tell me.
Gustav. Forgive? What? It is I who have to ask you for forgiveness.
Thekla.[Striking another key.] I do believe that we’re both crying— though we’re neither of us chickens.
Gustav.[Softly sliding into another tone.] Chickens, indeed! I’m an old man, but you—you’re getting younger every day.
Thekla. Do you mean it?
Gustav. And how well you know how to dress!
Thekla. It was you and no one else who taught me that. Do you still remember finding out my special colors?
Gustav. No.