Glyszinski. Even if I were willing; why he pays no attention to me. Sometimes he strikes the pose of the man of thirty and treats me like a schoolboy. If it were not for you, Hella!
Hella (goes back and forth in intense excitement). I see it coming! I see it coming! Irresistible! I have been watching it for a year. Something is working on him. The old spirits have been revived in him. They are restless to assert themselves. That calls for prompt action. He must not remain here. He must absolutely not remain in this atmosphere, which unsettles the mind, this funereal atmosphere. Oh! I can't stand it! Come on, doctor, I must have some fresh air! Get my things!
Glyszinski. I am on the wing! (About to start in some direction or other.)
Hella (restrains him). But no, wait a moment! We can go right through our rooms. A door leads to the garden from there. (She listens.) Isn't that Paul, now? Do you hear?
Glyszinski. It seems to be.
Hella (hurriedly). Quickly! I do not care to see him now! I don't want to hear about the dead man. I can't endure it. Do hurry! (She draws him along out toward the left.)
[Paul and Aunt Clara come in again from the right. Paul walks slowly through the hall with his head bowed. For a moment he remains standing before the chair near the sofa, then suddenly sits down and presses his face into his hands. Aunt Clara has slowly followed him, stands before him, and looks at him lovingly and sadly. Brief silence.]
Aunt Clara (puts her hand on his head). Compose yourself, Paul! What's the good of it! Your father is past all trouble.
Paul (without raising his head). Yes, he's beyond it all.
Aunt Clara. All of us may be glad when we are that far along.