_Axel_. I must feel (_laying his hand on his heart_). I am sure it would be an unpleasant feeling--sure. Both because I paint better than you, and because.... _Bertha_. Say it straight out,--because I am a woman. _Axel_. Yes, also for that reason. It is strange, but I have a feeling as if you women were intruders, forcing your way in and demanding the spoils of the battle which we men have fought whilst you sat by the fireside. Forgive me, Bertha, for saying this, but such thoughts come to me. _Bertha_. You are just like all other men, exactly. _Axel_. Like all other men. I hope so. _Bertha_. And lately you have assumed such superiority; you used not to be like that. _Axel_. I suppose that is because I am superior. Do something which we men have not already done. _Bertha_. What! What are you saying? Are you not ashamed? Bertha changes her tone, and plays the humble comrade who is sorely in need of a little encouragement. Axel rejects her arguments, but eventually goes to Monsieur Roubey. During Axel's absence a letter arrives containing the information that his picture has been refused. Bertha guesses its contents and revels in the luxury of pity and _schadenfreude_. Axel returns, after finding Madame Roubey at home, (a meeting cleverly foreseen by Bertha) with the news that Bertha's picture has already been accepted. He congratulates Bertha on her success. He is confident that his picture will also be accepted. She hands him the letter. The _scène de rupture_ is inevitable. _Axel_ (_lays his hand on his heart and sits down_). What ... (_controls himself_). This is a blow which I did not expect. This is most unpleasant. _Bertha_. Well, perhaps I can help you now. _Axel_. You look as if you enjoyed my defeat, Bertha. Oh, I feel a great hatred of you stirring within me! _Bertha_. I look happy, perhaps, because I have had a success, but when one is tied to a man who cannot rejoice in one's happiness it is difficult to feel sorry when he is unhappy. _Axel_. I don't know what has happened, but it seems to me that we have become enemies now. The struggle for a position has come between us, and we can no longer be friends. _Bertha_. Does not your sense of justice tell you that the one who was most competent won the battle? _Axel_. You were not the most competent. _Bertha_. But the jury thought so. _Axel_. The jury? But you know very well that you cannot paint as well as I do. _Bertha_. Are you sure of that?