GUSTAV. Yes, I have. But you have never seen her when you didn't--
I mean, when you were not present. And there's the reason, you
see, why a husband can never really know his wife. Have you a
portrait of her?

(Adolph takes a photograph from his pocketbook. There is a look of
aroused curiosity on his face.)

GUSTAV. You were not present when this was taken?

ADOLPH. No.

GUSTAV. Look at it. Does it bear much resemblance to the portrait
you painted of her? Hardly any! The features are the same, but the
expression is quite different. But you don't see this, because
your own picture of her creeps in between your eyes and this one.
Look at it now as a painter, without giving a thought to the
original. What does it represent? Nothing, so far as I can see,
but an affected coquette inviting somebody to come and play with
her. Do you notice this cynical line around the mouth which you
are never allowed to see? Can you see that her eyes are seeking
out some man who is not you? Do you observe that her dress is cut
low at the neck, that her hair is done up in a different way, that
her sleeve has managed to slip back from her arm? Can you see?

ADOLPH. Yes--now I see.

GUSTAV. Look out, my boy!