elf, how I think more clearly and speak more to the
point? And to myself at least it seems as if my voice had
recovered its ring.

GUSTAV. So it seems to me also. And why is that?

ADOLPH. I shouldn't wonder if you grew accustomed to lower your
voice in talking to women. I know at least that Tekla always used
to accuse me of shouting.

GUSTAV. And so you toned down your voice and accepted the rule of
the slipper?

ADOLPH. That isn't quite the way to put it. [After some
reflection] I think it is even worse than that. But let us talk of
something else!--What was I saying?--Yes, you came here, and you
enabled me to see my art in its true light. Of course, for some
time I had noticed my growing lack of interest in painting, as it
didn't seem to offer me the proper medium for the expression of
what I wanted to bring out. But when you explained all this to me,
and made it clear why painting must fail as a timely outlet for
the creative instinct, then I saw the light at last--and I
realised that hereafter it would not be possible for me to express
myself by means of colour only.

GUSTAV. Are you quite sure now that you cannot go on painting--
that you may not have a relapse?

ADOLPH. Perfectly sure! For I have tested myself. When I went to
bed that night after our talk, I rehearsed your argument point by
point, and I knew you had it right. But when I woke up from a good
night's sleep and my head was clear again, then it came over me in
a flash that you might be mistaken after all. And I jumped out of
bed and got hold of my brushes and paints--but it was no use!
Every trace of illusion was gone--it was nothing but smears of
paint, and I quaked at the thought of having believed, and having
made others believe, that a painted canvas could be anything but a
painted canvas. The veil had fallen from my eyes, and it was just
as impossible for me to paint any more as it was to become a child
again.

GUSTAV. And then you saw that the realistic tendency of our day,
its craving for actuality and tangibility, could only find its
proper form in sculpture, which gives you body, extension in all
three dimensions--

ADOLPH. [Vaguely] The three dimensions--oh yes, body, in a word!

GUSTAV. And then you became a sculptor yourself. Or rather, you
have been one all your life, but you had gone astray, and nothing
was needed but a guide to put you on the right road--Tell me, do
you experience supreme joy now when you are at work?

A