[_He shrugs his shoulders, and paces the room more than once; he makes a movement as if to hurry after her, but finally gives up the idea, and forces himself into a state of apparent indifference; he first occupies himself with his pipe; knocks it out, fills it with new tobacco from his pouch, lights it, and seems for some minutes lost in the enjoyment of smoking. Presently his interest is roused by the Christmas tree, and turning to the presents on the table, he plants himself before them; while surveying them, pipe in mouth, he laughs bitterly more than once. Suddenly he starts, takes his pipe in his hand, and bends low over the table: straightening himself, he seems for the first time to discover that he is alone; looking round as cautiously as a thief, he bends forward again, hastily seizes the yellow silk purse, looks at it more closely, and presses it with a sudden passionate movement to his lips. In this movement he shows, as by a lightning flash, an eerie, feverish passion. A noise startles him. Instantly the purse lies where it was. On tiptoe he tries to slip away. Just as he is disappearing through the door down R., he sees his mother enter by the adjoining door, and on his part stands still. Mrs Scholz goes heavily but quickly across the room to the stairway, where she stands and listens._] ROBERT (_turning back_). I say, mother, what does that woman want? MRS SCHOLZ (_frightened_). Oh God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God!!! How you startle one! ROBERT. What! (_puffs_) wh—(_puffs again_), what does Mrs—Mrs Buchner really want here, I should like to know? MRS SCHOLZ. What _I_ want to know is, what your father—what _he_ really wants? Ah, just tell me! what is it? ROBERT. Well, you’ll scarcely refuse him a roof over his head? MRS SCHOLZ (_perversely, almost in tears_). I really don’t see. It’s so long since he wanted me; one was at any rate one’s own master; now it will begin all over again. The old worry!—now in one’s old days, one will be ordered about like a little child! ROBERT. Oh! how you exaggerate! It’s always the same, you will exaggerate so. MRS SCHOLZ. Just you wait till he sees the empty greenhouse to-morrow. There’s waste enough without my keeping another gardener; the bee-hives, they’re gone too. No flowers need trouble themselves to grow for anything I care, they only give you headaches; and then the insects——I don’t know what he gets out of it; and for that, one must be ordered about like a good-for-nothing! The first “hallo!” startles me out of my wits. Oh, this world is no longer any good. ROBERT (_while Mrs Scholz speaks, shrugs his shoulders and turns to go, then stops and answers_). Was it ever better, then? MRS SCHOLZ. Better! I should think so!! ROBERT. Really! that must have been before my time! [_Goes out through lower door._ MRS SCHOLZ (_listening again on stairway_).