Gustav.[Hands back the letter.] I see, and she calls herself “sister” so as to inspire respect. [He turns round and passes the square table on ADOLF’S right.]
Adolf. I want to esteem her more than I do myself. I want her to be my better self.
Gustav. Oh, you be your better self; though I quite admit it’s less convenient than having somebody else to do it for you. Do you want, then, to be your wife’s inferior?
Adolf. Yes, I do. I find pleasure in always allowing myself to be beaten by her a little. For instance, I taught her swimming, and it amuses me when she boasts about being better and pluckier than I am. At the beginning I simply pretended to be less skillful and courageous than she was, in order to give her pluck, but one day, God knows how it came about, I was actually the worse swimmer and the one with less pluck. It seemed as though she’d taken all my grit away in real earnest.
Gustav. And haven’t you taught her anything else?
Adolf. Yes—but this is in confidence —I taught her spelling, because she didn’t know it. Just listen. When she took over the correspondence of the household I gave up writing letters, and —will you believe it?— simply from lack of practice I’ve lost one bit of grammar after another in the course of the year. But do you think she ever remembers that she has to thank me really for her proficiency? Not for a minute. Of course, I’m the ass now.
Gustav. Ah! really? You’re the ass now, are you?
Adolf. I’m only joking, of course.
Gustav. Obviously. But this is pure cannibalism, isn’t it? Do you know what I mean? Well, the savages devour their enemies so as to acquire their best qualities. Well, this woman has devoured your soul, your pluck, your knowledge.
Adolf. And my faith. It was I who kept her up to the mark and made her write her first book.