THEKLA. Please--please, stay. It may be that you find it painful.
GUSTAV. It's all right as far as I'm concerned. I only thought--that
whatever I said I should always have to run the risk of wounding you.
THEKLA [_passes in front of him toward the right_]. Sit down for a
moment, Gustav; you don't wound me, because you have the unusual
gift--which always distinguished you--of being subtle and tactful.
GUSTAV. You're too kind; but how on earth can one tell if--your husband
would regard me in the same light that you do.
THEKLA. Quite the contrary. Why, he's just been expressing himself with
the utmost sympathy with regard to you.
GUSTAV. Ah! Yes, everything dies away, even the names which we cut on
the tree's bark--not even malice can persist for long in these
temperaments of ours.
THEKLA. He's never entertained malice against you--why, he doesn't know
you at all--and, so far as I'm concerned, I always entertained the
silent hope that I would live to see the time in which you would
approach each other as friends--or at least meet each other in my
presence, shake hands, and part.
GUSTAV. It was also my secret desire to see the woman whom I loved more
than my life in really good hands, and, as a matter of fact, I've only
heard the very best account of him, while I know all his work as well.
All the same, I felt the need of pressing his hand before I grew old,
looking him in the face, and asking him to preserve the treasure which
providence had entrusted to him, and at the same time I wanted to
extinguish the hate which was burning inside me, quite against my will,
and I longed to find peace of soul and resignation, so as to be able to
finish in quiet that dismal portion of my life which is still left me.
THEKLA. Your words come straight from your heart; you have understood
me, Gustav--thanks.
[_She holds out her hand._]
GUSTAV. Ah, I'm a petty man. Too insignificant to allow of your thriving
in my shadow. Your temperament, with its thirst for freedom, could not
be satisfied by my monotonous life, the slavish routine to which I was
condemned, the narrow circle in which I had to move. I appreciate that,
but you understand well enough--you who are such an expert
psychologist--what a struggle it must have cost me to acknowledge that
to myself.
THEKLA. How noble, how great to acknowledge one's weaknesses so
frankly--it's not all men who can bring themselves to that point.
[_She sighs._] But you are always an honest character, straight and
reliable--which I knew how to respect,--but--
GUSTAV. I wasn't--not then, but suffering purges, care ennobles
and--and--I have suffered.
THEKLA [_comes nearer to him_]. Poor Gustav, can you forgive me, can
you? Tell me.
GUSTAV. Forgive? What? It is I who have to ask you for forgiveness.
THEKLA [_striking another key_]. I do believe that we're both
crying--though we're neither of us chickens.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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