The King (interrupting her, with emotion). Your life has not been as empty and artificial as mine. Clara. But surely you have your task here to fill it with? The King. I remember reading once about the way a rock was undermined, and the mine filled with gunpowder with an electric wire leading to it. Just a slight pressure on a little button and the great rock was shattered into a thousand pieces. And in the same way everything is ready here; but the little pressure--to cause the explosion--is what I am waiting for! Clara. The metaphor is a little forced. The King. And yet it came into my mind as unconsciously as you broke off that twig just now. If I do not get what I lack, nothing can be accomplished--there can be no explosion! I shall abandon the whole thing and let myself go under. Clara. Go under? The King. Well, not like the hero of a sensational novel--not straight to the bottom like a stone--but like a dreamer carried off by pixies in a wood, with one name ever upon my lips! And the world would have to look after itself. Clara. But that is sheer recklessness. The King. I know it is; but I am reckless. I stake everything upon one throw! (A pause.) Clara. Heaven send you may win. The King. At least I am daring enough to hope that I may--and there are moments when I almost feel certain of victory! Clara (embarrassed). It is a lovely morning-- The King.--for the time of year; yes. And it is lovelier here than it is anywhere else! Clara. I cannot really understand a course of action which implies a want of all sense of responsibility-- The King. Every one has their own point of view. A scheme of life, to satisfy me, must have its greatest happiness hidden away at its core; in my case that would be to have a house of my own--all to myself, like any other citizen--from which I should go away to my work, and come back to as to a safe refuge. That is the button on the electric wire, do you understand? It is the little pressure on it that I am waiting for. (A pause.) Clara. Have you read my father's book, _Democratic Monarchy_? The King. Yes. Clara. He wrote it when I was a child; and so I may say that I grew up amongst ideas like--like those I have heard from you to-day. All the friends that came to our house used to talk to me about it. The King. Then no doubt you heard the crown prince talked about, too! Clara. I think I heard his name oftener mentioned at home than any one's. I believe the book was written expressly for you.