RITA (_quietly_): Strange. You--come to see me? What has become of your good training? (_Laughs._) Have you lost all sense of shame? FRIEDRICH (_stretches out his hand, as if imploring_): Oh, I beg of you, I beg of you; not this tone! I really came to explain everything to you, everything. And possibly to set things aright. RITA: You--with me! (_She shakes her head._) Incredible! But, please, since you are here, sit down. With what can you serve me? FRIEDRICH (_seriously_): Miss Hattenbach, I really should---- RITA (_lightly_): Pardon me, my name is Revera. Rita Revera. FRIEDRICH: I know that you call yourself by that name now. But you won't expect me, an old friend of your family, to make use of this romantic, theatrical name. For me you are now, as heretofore, the daughter of the esteemed house of Hattenbach, with which I---- RITA (_quickly and sharply_): With which your father transacts business, I know. FRIEDRICH (_with emphasis_): With which I now am myself associated. RITA: Is it possible? And your father? FRIEDRICH (_seriously_): If I had the slightest inkling of your address, yes, even your present name, I should not have missed to announce to you the sudden death of my father. RITA (_after pause_): Oh, he is dead. I see you still wear mourning. How long ago is it? FRIEDRICH: Half a year. Since then I am looking for you, and I hope you will not forbid me to address you now, as of yore, with that name, which is so highly esteemed in our native city. RITA (_smiling friendly_): Your solemnity--is delightful. Golden! But sit down. FRIEDRICH (_remains standing; he is hurt_): I must confess, Miss Hattenbach, that I was not prepared for such a reception from you. I hoped that I might expect, after these four or five years, that you would receive me differently than with this--with this--how shall I say? RITA: Toleration. FRIEDRICH: No, with this arrogance. RITA: How? FRIEDRICH (_controlling himself_): I beg your pardon. I am sorry to have said that. RITA (_after a pause, hostile_): You wish to be taken seriously? (_She sits down, with a gesture of the hand_) Please, what have you to say to me? FRIEDRICH: Much. Oh, very much. (_He also sits down._) But--you are not well to-day? RITA: Not well? What makes you say so? FRIEDRICH: Yes, the maid told me so. RITA: The maid--she is a useful person. That makes me think. You certainly expect to stay here some time, do you not? FRIEDRICH: With your permission. I have much to tell you. RITA: I thought so. (_Calling loudly_) Bertha! Bertha! Do you suppose one could get an electric bell repaired here? Impossible. BERTHA (_enters_): My lady? RITA: Bertha, when the Count comes--now I am really sick. BERTHA (_nods_): Very well. (_She leaves._) RITA (_calls after her_): And where is the coffee? I shall famish. BERTHA (_outside_): Immediately. FRIEDRICH: The--the Count--did you say?