Alfred (with sarcasm). Not in the least—now. You are subject to the Law of Change. But what does all that matter? We have both sinned, if you like. While we had him, we both shrank in secret from him—we could not bear to see the tail he dragged about after him!
Spreta (whispers). You were so perpetually putting paraffin upon it, Alfred!
Alfred (calmer). Yes, that. I tried to perfect its possibilities. But it was no use—I could never, never make it good again. And after that I dressed him up in military uniform, and then he had to remain too much indoors, so, of course, he followed the Varmint-Blök, and then the street curs chevied him over the pier. And after I had trained him so thoroughly to shoulder a musket, he was so totally unable to swim. Oh, it all works out into quite a logical Retribution. And I must go away into the solitudes and writhe with remorse—by myself.
Spreta (bitingly). Unless, of course, you can induce Mopsa to——I think you mentioned once that she used to follow you about like a little dog?
Alfred (in a hollow voice). I did. I remember now. That time when the tea-kettle——Retribution!
[He staggers into the thinnest birchstave chair, which collapses under him.
Spreta (menacingly standing over him). Yes, Alfred, Retribution!
[Mopsa and Blochdrähn return.
Mopsa (pleasantly). Well, my dear Spreta, have you and dear Alfred talked things thoroughly out?
Spreta. Oh, yes; quite thoroughly enough, I really will not be left alone with Alfred any more; he is too depressing!