Heinecke. And the cashier won't say: Put the fellow out--he's drunk!--Oh, he can be right sharp with the poor people when he wants to--that cashier! (Muhlingk _draws out a check and fills it; hands it to_ Heinecke: _they all study the writing_) Forty thousand marks! Always the generous gentleman, Herr Councillor. Give me your hand! Muhlingk. (_Putting his hand in his pocket_) One thing more: to-morrow evening a moving van will be in front of your door; within two hours you will be good enough to leave my property,--and I hope that will be the last I hear of you. Heinecke. Don't say that, Herr Councillor! If the visit of an honest old man isn't disagreeable to you, I'll take the liberty of calling now and then. Yes, I'm an honest old man! Muhlingk. Certainly! Good-day, my good people! (_Aside_) Pah! (_He goes out_) Heinecke. Mother! Forty thousand! (Michalski _tries to embrace him_) Three paces to the rear, my son! (_Takes out an old handkerchief and carefully does up the check in it, then puts it in breast pocket_) Now you can be as tender as you like. Frau Heinecke. I'm half sick with joy! (_The two embrace and weep_) When I think! I don't need to go to market without money any more. And when I'm cold in the afternoons, I can make a fire without having a bad conscience--a good fire--and in the evening cold meat! Heinecke. And in the evening I can take the horse-car whenever I want! Michalski. Exactly four hundred thousand times, at ten pfennigs per! Frau Heinecke. And you'll buy me a sofa. Auguste. Now you won't be going to India. Frau Heinecke. For the Lord's sake. Heinecke. Are you crazy? Auguste. And what will Herr Robert have to say to that? Frau Heinecke. (_Happily_) Yes--Robert! (_Goes to bedroom door_) Auguste. (_Holding her back_) I advise you to let him sleep. He'll hear about it soon enough. Frau Heinecke. (_Startled_) What d'you mean by that? Heinecke. (_Pulling at_ Frau Heinecke's _dress and pointing to kitchen door_) He! he! Her! In there! Frau Heinecke. Oh, the poor, dear child! Heinecke. (_Mysteriously_) Well give her a little surprise!--Shh! (_All tiptoe to the kitchen door_--Heinecke, _who is leading the way, opens the door suddenly, then with a cry, starts back_) Wha--wh--Mother! What's that? Frau Heinecke. (_Clasping her hands above her head_) Good Lord! Michalski. (_Looking over their shoulders_) The devil! Heinecke. (_With pretended severity_) You come here! Alma. (_Outside_) Oh, please--no! Heinecke. Are you coming? (_Enter_ Alma _dressed in the robe of the Indian Princess, her hands covering her face for shame. All laugh and exclaim in surprise at the costume_. Auguste _feels the material._) Auguste. The Indian dress. Michalski. From the stark-naked princess! Alma. I--just--wanted--to try it on! I'll take it right off! Frau Heinecke. Ach! what a little angel! Alma. Aren't you angry with me any more?