Gustav.[Moves away from, and again toward the right.] Sheer hallucination! The fascination of the petticoat. But it is so, perhaps, in fact you have become like each other, the levelling has taken place. But I say.
[He takes out his watch.] We’ve been chatting for quite long enough. Your wife’s bound to be here shortly. Wouldn’t it be better to leave off now, so that you can rest for a little? [He comes nearer and holds out his hand to say good-bye. ADOLF grips his hand all the tighter.]
Adolf. No, don’t leave me. I haven’t got the pluck to be alone.
Gustav. Only for a little while. Your wife will be coming in a minute.
Adolf. Yes, yes—she’s coming. [Pause.] Strange, isn’t it? I long for her and yet I’m frightened of her. She caresses me, she is tender, but her kisses have something in them which smothers one, something which sucks, something which stupefies. It is as though I were the child at the circus whose face the clown is making up in the dressing-room, so that it can appear red-cheeked before the public.
Gustav.[Leaning on the arm of ADOLF’S chair.] I’m sorry for you, old man. Although I’m not a doctor, I am in a position to tell you that you are a dying man. One has only to look at your last pictures to be quite clear on the point.
Adolf. What do you say—what do you mean?
Gustav. Your coloring is so watery, so consumptive and thin, that the yellow of the canvas shines through. It is just as though your hollow, ashen, white cheeks were looking out at me.
Adolf. Ah!
Gustav. Yes, and that’s not only my view. Haven’t you read to-day’s paper?