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Allmers.
Rita,—you must not think it was the doctor's advice that drove me up to the mountains.
Asta.
Was it not, Alfred?
Rita.
What was it, then?
Allmers.
It was this: I found there was no more peace for me, there in my study.
Rita.
No peace! Why, who disturbed you?
Allmers.
[Shaking his head.] No one from without. But I felt as though I were positively abusing—or, say rather, wasting—my best powers—frittering away the time.
Asta.
[With wide eyes.] When you were writing at your book?
Allmers.
[Nodding.] For I cannot think that my powers are confined to that alone. I must surely have it in me to do one or two other things as well.
Rita.
Was that what you sat there brooding over?
