ERT. Ah ... so he forbids you to write! He won't allow the girl he
loves to make any use of her brains--oh, that's splendid! That's the
fine flower of the nation! Ah ... yes. And you--aren't you ashamed to
experience the same sensations in the arms of such an idiot that you
once ...

MARGARET. I forbid you to talk like that about him! You don't
understand him.

GILBERT. Ha ...!

MARGARET. You don't know why he objects to my writing--it's only out of
love. He feels that I live in a world which is closed to him; he
blushes to see me exposing the innermost secrets of my soul to
strangers. He wants me for himself, for himself alone. And that's why
he rushed off ... no, not rushed; Clement isn't the sort of person who
rushes off ...

[Illustration: PAUL HEYSE]

_Permission Albert Langen, Munich_
From Olaf Gulbransson's "Famous Contemporaries"

GILBERT. An admirable bit of observation. But at any rate he's gone. We
needn't discuss the tempo of his departure. And he's gone because he
won't allow you to yield to your desire to create.

MARGARET. Oh, if he could only understand that! I could be the best,
the truest, the noblest wife in the world, if the right man existed!

GILBERT. You admit by that expression that he isn't the right one.

MARGARET. I didn't say that!

GILBERT. I want you to realize that he is simply enslaving you, ruining
you, seeking to crush your personality out of sheer egoism. Oh, think
of the Margaret you were in the old days! Think of the freedom you had
to develop your ego when you loved me! Think of the choice spirits who
were your associates then, of the disciples who gathered round me and
were your disciples too. Don't you sometimes long to be back again?
Don't you sometimes think of the little room with the balcony ... and
the Isar flowing beneath the window ... (He seizes her hands and draws
near to her.)

MARGARET. O God ...!

GILBERT. It can all be so again--it needn't be the Isar. I'll tell you
what to do, Margaret. If he comes back, tell him that you have some
important business to see to in Munich, and spend the time with me. Oh,
Margaret, you're so lovely! We'll be happy once again, Margaret, as we
used to be. You remember, don't you? (Very close to her.) "So, drunk
with bliss, I hang upon thy neck ..."

MARGARET (retreats quickly from him). Go--go! No... no ... go, I tell
you! You know I don't love you any more.

GILBERT. Oh, ... h'm ... Really? Well, then I can only beg yo