TEKLA. [Changing tone] I believe we are crying, both of us--we who
are old enough to know better!

GUSTAV. [Feeling his way] Old? Yes, I am old. But you--you grow
younger every day.

(He has by that time manoeuvred himself up to the chair on the
left and sits down on it, whereupon TEKLA sits down on the sofa.)

TEKLA. Do you think so?

GUSTAV. And then you know how to dress.

TEKLA. I learned that from you. Don't you remember how you figured
out what colors would be most becoming to me?

GUSTAV. No.

TEKLA. Yes, don't you remember--hm!--I can even recall how you
used to be angry with me whenever I failed to have at least a
touch of crimson about my dress.

GUSTAV. No, not angry! I was never angry with you.

TEKLA. Oh, yes, when you wanted to teach me how to think--do you
remember? For that was something I couldn't do at all.

GUSTAV. Of course, you could. It's something every human being
does. And you have become quite keen at it--at least when you