Adolf. Put your hand on my forehead.
Thekla.[Playfully.] Has he got bees in his bonnet again? Shall I drive them away? [She kisses him on the forehead.] There, it’s all right now? [Pause, moving away from him to the right.] Now let me hear what he’s been doing to amuse himself. Painted anything pretty?
Adolf. No, I’ve given up painting.
Thekla. What, you’ve given up painting!
Adolf. Yes, but don’t scold me about it. How could I help it if I wasn’t able to paint any more?
Thekla. What are you going to take up then?
Adolf. I’m going to be a sculptor. [THEKLA passes over in front of the square table and in front of the sofa.] Yes, but don’t blame me—just look at this figure.
Thekla.[Undrapes the figure on the table.] Hello, I say! Who’s this meant to be?
Adolf. Guess!
Thekla.[Tenderly.] Is it meant to be his little wife? And he isn’t ashamed of it, is he?