Adolf. I quite believe you, but I never did.
Thekla. But you wanted to.
Adolf [exhausted, shutting his eyes]. No, no, no—don't speak to me any more, I'm getting convulsions—be quiet, go away! You're flaying my brain with your brutal pinchers—you're thrusting your claws into my thoughts and tearing them.
[He loses consciousness, stares in front of him and turns his thumbs inwards.]
Thekla [tenderly coming towards him]. What is it, dear? Are you ill? [Adolf beats around him. Thekla takes her handkerchief, pours water on to it out of the bottle on the table right of the center door, and cools his forehead with it.] Adolf!
Adolf [he shakes his head]. Yes.
Thekla. Do you see now that you were wrong?
Adolf [after a pause]. Yes, yes, yes—I see it.
Thekla. And you ask me to forgive you?
Adolf. Yes, yes, yes—I ask you to forgive me; but don't talk right into my brain any more.