am not. Your existence has lain like a stone on my heart--lain so
heavily that I tried to shake off the oppressive burden. This is
the truth, and if I have unconsciously struck you down, I ask your
forgiveness.

CAPTAIN. All that sounds plausible. But how does it help me? And
whose fault is it? Perhaps spiritual marriages! Formerly one
married a wife, now, one enters into partnership with a business
woman, or goes to live with a friend--and then one ruins the
partner, and dishonors the friend!--What has become of love,
healthy sensuous love? It died in the transformation. And what is
the result of this love in shares, payable to the bearer without
joint liability? Who is the bearer when the crash comes? Who is the
fleshly father of the spiritual child?

LAURA. And as for your suspicions about the child, they are
absolutely groundless.

CAPTAIN. That's just what makes it so horrible. If at least there
were any grounds for them, it would be something to get hold of, to
cling to. Now there are only shadows that hide themselves in the
bushes, and stick out their heads and grin; it is like fighting
with the air, or firing blank cartridges in a sham fight. A fatal
reality would have called forth resistance, stirred life and soul
to action; but now my thoughts dissolve into air, and my brain
grinds a void until it is on fire.--Put a pillow under my head,
and throw something over me, I am cold. I am terribly cold!

[Laura takes her shawl and spreads it over him. Nurse goes to get a
pillow.]