Dušek (Surprised).—Jealous?
Helen (Captivatingly).—To be sure, jealous! Everyone is jealous who imagines he is not the first one—or the only one.
(Dušek shows excitement.)
Helen (Suddenly).—Pst! (Tensely. She again touches Dušek’s hand. She listens to the music of the violin. After a moment she looks inquiringly at Dušek.)
Dušek (Embarrassed).—And may I speak, then?
Helen (Laughing).—Why, why, Mr. Dušek, what has happened to you? (Frankly.) Just as if we didn’t all like you, indeed, as if you were merely tolerated among us! Believe me, I myself am very grateful to you for many reasons. I can’t define it—but it is as if you had brought something new into my life, a little real interest for art, a little dispelling of the monotony of our social existence. (Gazes at him.) To be sure, I am becoming enriched by what you lose, many insist. You do not paint, you are losing your broad outlook, they say,—and all that you have, you give to me.
Dušek.—Miss—Helen! (Seizes her hand. Helen does not draw it away)—would it be a sin even if it were the truth? You thank me for a few moments which have really enriched me and for a little inspiration which is only a slight return for my great inspiration drawn from you. (Ardently.) May I tell it all?
(Helen remains silent.)
Dušek.—Or—is it really necessary for me to tell it?
(Helen as if lost in thought, shakes her head.)
Dušek (Speaks more and more ardently, in a suppressed voice which almost thrills on the waves of the violin’s strains).—You know it, don’t you? And you are right when you say I am losing myself wholly in you, in your being. I believe it would be the end of me to wake from that which intoxicates me now. (Points towards the music room.) They, in there, can’t comprehend what has become of the former wanderer, unstable and roving. But they are mistaken if they think that therefore the artist in me is dying. Believe me, my art can not die while it lives through your being!
Helen (Held by his ardor).—Am I so powerful? (Involuntarily leaning backward until her head nearly rests on Dušek’s arm.) Well, that is strange—(She speaks in a more and more suppressed and fervent manner.) Heretofore everyone has told me that I was not on earth for the happiness of others—And I myself had begun to believe it! (Recovers herself.) But no, no—
