Plavec.—Oh, oh, don't be so severe, madam. Life will equalize everything.
Mrs. Rettig.—Sometimes only death can do so. And doctor, suppose that Lenka should have some one dear to her heart—
Plavec.—O, some student's love affair! All that is merely day dreams. My friend the magistrate, if you will pardon my saying so, is surely not your first love and you may not be his. When I was a student I thought several times of getting married. O, dreams, rosy dreams! We got over them, and so will Miss Lenka.
Mrs. Rettig.—But if she does not get over them, if her affection is truly deep, if she continues to suffer in secret—
Plavec.—Madam, that is mere idle poetry, poetry.
Mrs. Rettig.—Do you hold to your purpose?
Plavec.—Can I do otherwise? Can I break my word and make Lenka the laughing-stock of all the town gossips? Or perhaps Lenka of her own accord—
Mrs. Rettig.—No, she will not do that.
Plavec.—Have you talked with her?
Mrs. Rettig.—She has been here; she would like to go to Nedošín this afternoon.
Plavec.—To the picnic! Just yesterday she told me that she did not care to go; and, to confess the truth, I was very glad of it.
Mrs. Rettig.—Yesterday she was shy about it because she saw that you would prefer to stay at home, you happy, comfortable, fortunate lover!
Plavec.—But in such hot weather—!
Mrs. Rettig.—Ah! And you would have to dance. Lenka enjoys dancing.
Plavec.—She must give up something.
Mrs. Rettig (Gravely).—Do you, a physician, say that? You have already enjoyed the world and life in it, but what about that young heart? For Lenka the world is just beginning to unfold itself. You wish merely to warm yourself, but she will desire the fire itself.
Plavec (Forcing himself to assume a gay tone once more).—Ah, honored friend, such seriousness, when after all it is a question only of a picnic!
Mrs. Rettig.—But it bears on more important things. You try to avoid it, but what will you do later when other pastimes come up and her young blood—? (Suddenly.) Shall you not be jealous?
