Gustav [walks up and down on the left]. To four boys, whom she happened to be with. She has a craze for pure boys, just like—
Adolf. A perfectly innocent penchant.
Gustav. Quite as innocent as playing brother and sister when one is father and mother.
Adolf. You saw her, then?
Gustav. Yes, of course; but you've never seen her if you didn't see her then—I mean, if you weren't present—and that's the reason, don't you know, why a husband can never know his wife. Have you got her photograph?
Adolf [takes a photo out of his pocketbook. Inquisitively]. Here you are.
Gustav [takes it]. Were you present when it was taken?
Adolf. No.
Gustav. Just look at it? Is it like the portrait you painted? No, the features are the same, but the expression is different. But you don't notice that, because you insist on seeing in it the picture of her which you've painted. Now look at this picture as a painter, without thinking of the original. What does it represent? I can see nothing but a tricked-out flirt, playing the decoy. Observe the cynical twist in the mouth, which you never managed to see. You see that her look is seeking a man quite different from you. Observe the dress is décolleté, the coiffure titivated to the last degree, the sleeves finished high up. You see?
Adolf. Yes, now I see.