So I'm to tell Mr. Spitta but not papa?
WALBURGA
[_Involuntarily._] Oh, for heaven's sake, no!
MRS. JOHN
Well, you jus' wait an' see! You jus' look out! There's many a one has looked like you an' has come from your part o' the city an'--has gone to the dogs in the ditch in Dragoner street or, even, behind Swedish hangin's in Barnim street.
WALBURGA
Surely you don't mean to insinuate, Mrs. John, and surely you don't believe that there's anything unpermitted or improper in my relations with Mr. Spitta?
MRS. JOHN
[_In extreme fright._] Shut up!--Somebody's put the key into the keyhole.
WALBURGA
Blow out the lamp!
[_MRS. JOHN blows out the lamp quickly._
WALBURGA
Papa!
MRS. JOHN
Miss! Up into the loft with you!
_MRS. JOHN and WALBURGA both disappear through the trap-door, which closes behind them._
_Two gentlemen, the manager HARRO HASSENREUTER and the court actor NATHANAEL JETTEL, appear in the frame of the outer door. The manager is of middle height, clean shaven, fifty years old. He takes long steps and shows a lively temperament in his whole demeanour. The cut of his face is noble, his eyes have a vivid, adventurous expression.
His behaviour is somewhat noisy, which accords with his thoroughly fiery nature. He wears a light overcoat, a top-hat thrust back on his head, full dress suit and patent leather boots. The overcoat, which is unbuttoned, reveals the decorations which almost cover his chest--JETTEL wears a suit of flannels under a very light spring overcoat. In his left hand he holds a straw hat and an elegant cane; he wears tan shoes. He also is clean shaven and over fifty years old.
HASSENREUTER
[_Calls:_] John! Mrs. John!--Well, now you see my catacombs, my dear fellow! _Sic transit gloria mundi!_ Here I've stored everything--_mutatis mutandis_--that was left of my whole theatrical glory--trash, trash! Old rags! Old tatters!--John! John! She's been here, for the lamp chimney is still quite hot! [_He strikes a match and lights the lamp._] _Fiat lux, pereat mundus!_ Now you can get a good view of my paradise of moths and rats and fleas!
JETTEL
You received my card, didn't you, my dear manager?
HASSENREUTER
Mrs. John!--I'll see if she is in the loft up there. [_He mounts the stairs and rattles at the trap-door._] Locked! And of course the wretched creature has the key tied to her apron. [_He beats enragedly against the trap-door with his fist._] John! John!
JETTEL
[_Somewhat impatient._] Can't we manage without this Mrs. John?
HASSENREUTER
What? Do you think that I, in my dress suit and with all my decorations, just back from His Highness, can go through my three hundred boxes and cases just to rout out the wretched rags that you are pleased to need for your engagement here?
JETTEL
I beg your pardon. But I'm not wont to appear in rags on my tours.
HASSENREUTER
Man alive, then play in your drawers for all I care! It wouldn't worry me! Only don't quite forget who's standing before you. Because the court actor Jettel is pleased to emit a whistle--well, that's no reason why the manager Harro Hassenreuter should begin to dance. Confound it, because some comedian wants a shabby turban or two old boots, is that any reason why a _pater familias_ like myself must give up his only spare time at home on Sunday afternoon? I suppose you expect me to creep about on all fours into the corners here? No, my good fellow, for that kind of thing you'll have to look elsewhere!
JETTEL
[_Quite calmly._] Would you mind telling me, if possible, who has been treading on your corns?
HASSENREUTER
My boy, it's scarcely an hour since I had my legs under the same table with a prince; _post hoc, ergo propter hoc!_--On your account I got into a confounded bus and drove out to this, confounded bole, and so ... if you don't know how to value my kindness, you can get out!
JETTEL
You made an appointment with use for four o'clock. Then you let me wait one solid hour in this horrible tenement, in these lovely halls with their filthy brats! Well, I waited and didn't address the slightest reproach to you. And now you have the good taste and the good manners to use me as a kind of a cuspidor!
HASSENREUTER
My boy ...
JETTEL
The devil! I'm not your boy! You seem to be kind of a clown that I ought to force to turn sommersaults for pennies!
[_Highly indignant, he picks up his hat and cane and goes._
HASSENREUTER
[_Starts, breaks out into boisterous laughter and then calls out after JETTEL:_] Don't make yourself ridiculous! And, anyhow, I'm not a costumer!
_The slamming of the outer door is heard._
HASSENREUTER
[_Pulls out his watch._] The confounded idiot! The damned mutton head.--It's a blessing the ridiculous ass went! [_He puts the match back into his pocket, pulls it out again at once and listens. He walks restlessly to and fro, then stops, gases into his top-hat, which contains a mirror, and combs his hair carefully. He walks over to the middle door and opens a few of the letters that lie heaped up there. At the same time he sings in a trilling voice:_
"O Strassburg, O Strassburg, Thou beautiful old town."
_Once more he looks at his watch. Suddenly the doorbell at his head rings._] On the minute! Ah, but these little girls can be punctual when they really care about it! [_He hurries out into the hall and is heard to extend a loud and merry welcome to someone. The trumpet notes of his voice are soon accompanied by the bell-like tones of a woman's speaking.