Theresa.—But you ought not to worry any more. There’s no need of it now.
Iustus.—Easily said. Well, it will not kill me. (Pause.) Will you be through to-day with this (surveying the disarranged articles) veritable babel?
Theresa.—I hope so. Does it not give you a queer feeling to move after all these fifteen years? It is a big part of our life from which we are forcing ourselves.
Iustus.—But you insisted yourself on this moving.
Theresa.—Of course, I did. We did not have enough space here. (Going toward the window.) Across the yard is the insane asylum with its high walls and a row of tiresome windows.
Iustus. And it annoys you only now, after these fifteen years. Women! Women!
Theresa (smiling).—There you go, against women again.
Iustus.—Do I wrong you then? I was fully contented here for twelve—fifteen years, and you for the last twelve never uttered a word against the neighborhood. All at once—‘it’s gloomy here.’ All of a sudden, the ‘high walls’ and ‘tiresome windows.’ You know well that I do anything to please you, and so I moved. Had you wanted to remain here, we would have never moved away.
Theresa (seriously).—Thanks, very much, for catering to my whims.
Iustus.—You are entirely welcome. (He reads. Pause. Iustus continues to read the newspaper. Theresa is removing dishes from the buffet into the basket.) Well, all in all, are you glad to move away from here?
Theresa.—Yes, I am longing for a change.
Iustus. You know that we can still remain here if you wish it. The flat is not rented. I can stop over at the landlord’s and tell him. All you have to do is to hang up your pictures, and things will go on as in the past.
Theresa (quickly).— Oh, no! no! What would the people
