t least
derive some comfort?... And do you think that we could dare to turn to
any human being, man or woman, with a demand that any gift of ours be
returned? I am not thinking of pearls now, or annuities, or cheap
wisdom, but of some piece of our real selves, some hour of our own
existence, which we have surrendered to such a being without at once
exacting payment for it in some sort of coin. My dear Julian, we have
kept our doors open, and have allowed our treasures to be viewed--but
prodigal with them we have never been. You no more than I. We may just
as well join hands, Julian. I am a little less prone to complain than
you are--that's the whole difference.... But I am not telling you
anything new. All this you know as well as I do. It is simply
impossible for us not to know ourselves. Of course, we try at times
conscientiously to deceive ourselves, but it never works. Our follies
and rascalities may remain hidden to others--but never to ourselves. In
our innermost souls we always know what to think of ourselves.--It's
getting cold, Julian. Let's go indoors.

(_They begin to ascend the steps to the terrace_)

JULIAN

All that may be true, Sala. But this much you have to grant me. If
there be anybody in the world who has no right to make us pay for the
mistakes of our lives, it is a person who has us to thank for his own
life.

SALA

There is no question of payment in this. Your son has a mind for
essentials, Julian. You have said so yourself. And he feels that to
have done nothing for a man but to put him into the world, is to have
done very little indeed.

JULIAN

Then, at least, everything must become as it was before he knew
anything at all. Once more I shall become to him a human being like
anybody else. Then he will not dare to leave me.... I cannot bear it.
How have I deserved that he should run away from me?... And even if all
that I have held for good and true within myself--even if, in the end,
my very fondness for this young man, who is my son--should prove
nothing but self-delusion--yet I love him now.... Do you understand me,
Sala? I love him, and all I ask is that he may believe it before I must
lose him forever....

[_It grows dark. The two men pass across the terrace and enter the
drawing-room. The stage stands empty a little while. In the meantime
the wind has risen somewhat. Johanna enters by the avenue of trees from
the right and goes past the pool toward the terrace. The windows of the