[_Friebe comes importantly from the stairway; he whispers to Mrs Scholz, whereupon she gives him a key. Friebe goes out through cellar door. Robert has stood watching this proceeding._ ROBERT (_as Friebe disappears down the cellar steps_). Aha! AUGUSTA (_who has kept her eye on Robert: breaking out furiously_). You haven’t a shred of filial feeling!—not one shred! ROBERT. And then——? AUGUSTA. But you’re a good hand at acting—you lie abominably; and that’s the most disgusting part of it. ROBERT. About father, do you mean? AUGUSTA. Especially about father. ROBERT (_shrugging his shoulders_). If you mean—— AUGUSTA. Yes—yes—that—_that_! Yes—for—if it were _not_ so, then, yes _then_ you would be a scoundrel—— MRS SCHOLZ (_interrupting_). Will you two be quiet or—— ROBERT (_without noticing her_). Then I am a scoundrel—well and then?—— [_Ida, who for a long time has shown restless expectation goes out through glass door._ AUGUSTA. Pfui! shameless! ROBERT. Shameless—just so. So I am. MRS BUCHNER. Mr Robert! I don’t believe you—you are better than you would have us believe—better than you yourself believe! ROBERT (_with slight but increasing sarcasm, coldly_). My dear Mrs Buchner! it is no doubt very kind of you—but as I said—I hardly know—to what this honour—indeed I can lay no claim to your indulgence. My self-esteem is at the present moment by no means so slight that I feel the need of anyone to—— MRS BUCHNER (_slightly bewildered_). That isn’t at all what I mean—only—your _father_? ROBERT. My father for me is a certain Fritz Scholz, doctor of medicine. AUGUSTA. Oh yes—go on! ROBERT. And if I cannot feel towards this man quite so indifferent as towards any other tomfool, it is because I—and then—(_he smokes_) because I—well just this—I am myself to a certain extent the product of his folly. MRS BUCHNER (_hardly believing her ears_). Excuse me! I can’t follow you so far. How can you say such a thing?—It really quite upsets me. MRS SCHOLZ (_to Mrs Buchner_). There, there!—You’ll see things in this house—— AUGUSTA. Now what do you mean by that, mother? We are—_what_ we are. Other people who do—Lord knows what—they’re no better! ROBERT. As a matter of fact there are always simple souls to be found who are never happy unless they can potter about tinkering their neighbours’ affairs—exploded ideas!—Rubbish! MRS BUCHNER (_seizing Robert by both hands, with feeling_). Mr Robert! I feel under a distinct obligation to you. I’m quite charmed. Honestly, you haven’t offended me in the least! ROBERT (_a little taken aback_). You are an extraordinary woman! [_Friebe comes from the cellar; he carries in his left hand three bottles of red wine, the bottle necks between his fingers, a bottle of cognac under his left arm. In his right hand he has the cellar key. Advancing to Mrs Scholz, importantly._]— FRIEBE. Now then—the cigars. MRS SCHOLZ.