Auguste. Simple enough! Herr Kurt has his carriage, and since he's an obliging young man he gave Alma a standing invitation to ride to the city with him. Robert. What? She allowed that? You, sister, you accepted that? Alma. A poor girl ought to be glad enough to ride in a carriage once in a while! Frau Heinecke. And you save car-fare! Robert. Good heavens! And what do the ladies on the Avenue say to that? Alma. Oh, they don't know anything about it! When I ride with him he stops the carriage at the back doorway where only the tradespeople go in. Robert. So much the worse! What a disgusting implication in all this secrecy! Alma, haven't you felt that yourself?--Alma, come here!--Look me in the eyes. Alma. (_Staring at him_) Well? Robert. (_Takes her head in both his_) You are pure!--you are--(_He kisses her cheeks and forehead_) Heinecke. Decide, now! Johann is waiting! Robert. Tell Johann, Father, that I'll speak to his master about it first. Alma. What for? It's all been arranged already. Robert. You won't use Herr Muhlingk's carriage any more! For a girl of your--our position, there is always the street-car! (Alma _begins to cry defiantly._) Frau Heinecke. The poor child! Auguste. You seem to want to turn everything in this house upside down! (_Children's voices are heard in the court._) Heinecke. Come here!--Quick!--A Moor!--in a turban! All. (_Except_ Robert, _who remains, troubled, rush to the window_) That's not a Moor! Alma. (_Still sobbing_) Robert--is that--a Moor? Robert. (_Darkly_) No, that's my friend's Indian servant. Frau Heinecke. Your friend?--is that the count? Robert. Yes. (_The servant comes in, and they crowd about him._) Robert. Ragharita, your master is welcome in the house of my father! (_Servant goes out. Great excitement_. Frau Heinecke _draws out the arm-chairs and polishes the mirror_.) Alma. (_From the mirror_) Is your count young or old? (Robert _makes no answer_) My eyes are red!--Red as fire, aren't they, Auguste? And he may be young! (_She goes out, left_) Michalski. Come, Auguste, we won't disturb the great gentlemen! Heinecke. Herr Count, I'll say, take a seat in this arm-chair, I'll say! Oh, we know how to act with the nobility! Frau Heinecke. There was a baron here once--a gentleman friend of Herr Kurt. Don't you remember, Father? He came to ask after Alma--But a count! we never had a count! Robert. Who did you say had been here, Mother? (_Enter_ Count Trast, _a man between forty and fifty, with gray hair and a long, blond beard. He is dressed with careless foreign elegance_. Robert _rushes to him and takes his hand._) Trast. (_Aside to_ Robert) How is this? Hasn't the home fever abated yet! (_Aloud_) So here we have the long-expected son! (_Shakes his hand_) Do you know, my fine people, that a sort of foster-son of yours is standing here? The friendship with this dear old comrade of mine gives me almost a right to that title!