Thekla. It was quite simple, don’t you remember? Come, I still remember distinctly how angry you used to be with me if I ever had anything else except pink.
Gustav. I angry with you? I was never angry with you.
Thekla. Oh yes, you were, when you wanted to teach me how to think. Don’t you remember? And I wasn’t able to catch on.
Gustav. Not able to think? Everybody can think, and now you’re developing a quite extraordinary power of penetration—at any rate, in your writings.
Thekla.[Disagreeably affected, tries to change the subject quickly.] Yes, Gustav dear, I was really awfully glad to see you again, especially under circumstances so unemotional.
Gustav. Well, you can’t say, at any rate, that I was such a cantankerous cuss: taking it all round, you had a pretty quiet time of it with me.
Thekla. Yes, if anything, too quiet.
Gustav. Really? But I thought, don’t you see, that you wanted me to be quiet and nothing else. Judging by your expressions of opinion as a bride, I had to come to that assumption.
Thekla. How could a woman know then what she really wanted? Besides, mother had always drilled into me to make the best of myself.
Gustav. Well, and that’s why it is that you’re going as strong as possible. There’s such a lot always doing in artist life—your husband isn’t exactly a home-bird.