Thekla. No, I know myself so little.
Adolf. Do you never think about yourself?
Thekla [looking in the air, while she looks at him searchingly]. About myself? I only think about myself. I am a shocking egoist, but how philosophical you've become, my dear.
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.