[_Blare of trumpets and march in the distance. Exit_ BLUMENBERG. SCHMOCK _alone, coming forward, angrily_.] I hate him! I'll tell him I hate him, that I despise him from the bottom of my heart! [_Turns to go, comes back._] But I cannot tell him so, or he will cut out all I send in for the special correspondence I write for his paper! I will try to swallow it down! _[Exit through centre door_.] _Enter_ BOLZ, KÄMPE, BELLMAUS _by side door_. BOLZ (_marching in_). Behold us in the house of the Capulets! [_Pretends to thrust a sword into its scabbard._] Conceal your swords under roses. Blow your little cheeks up, and look as silly and innocent as possible. Above all, don't let me see you get into a row, and if you meet this Tybaldus Senden be so good as to run round the corner. [_The procession is seen marching through the rear halls_.] You, Romeo Bellmaus, look out for the little women. I see more fluttering curls and waving kerchiefs there than are good for your peace of mind. KÄMPE. I bet a bottle of champagne that if one of us gets into a row it will be you. BOLZ. Possibly. But I promise you that you shall surely come in for your share of it. Now listen to my plan of operations. You Kämpe--[_Enter_ SCHMOCK.] Stop! Who is that? Thunder! The factotum of the _Coriolanus_! Our _incognito_ has not lasted long. SCHMOCK (_even before the last remark, has been seen looking in at the door, coming forward_). I wish you good evening, Mr. Bolz. BOLZ. I wish you the same and of even better quality, Mr. Schmock. SCHMOCK. Might I have a couple of words with you? BOLZ. A couple? Don't ask for too few, noble armor-bearer of the _Coriolanus_! A couple of dozen words you shall have, but no more. SCHMOCK. Could you not employ me on your paper. BOLZ (_to_ KÄMPE _and_ BELLMAUS). Do you hear that? On our paper? H'm! 'Tis much you ask, noble Roman! SCHMOCK. I am sick of the _Coriolanus_. I would do any kind of work you needed done. I want to be with respectable people, where one can earn something and be treated decently. BOLZ. What are you asking of us, slave of Rome? We to entice you away from your party--never! We do violence to your political convictions? Make you a renegade? We bear the guilt of your joining our party? No, sir! We have a tender conscience. It rises in arms against your proposition! SCHMOCK. Why do you let that trouble you? Under Blumenberg I have learned to write whichever way the wind blows. I have written on the left and again on the right. I can write in any direction. BOLZ. I see you have character. You would be a sure success on our paper. Your offer does us honor, but we cannot accept it now. So momentous an affair as your defection needs deep consideration. Meanwhile you will have confided in no unfeeling barbarian. (_Aside to the others_.) We may be able to worm something out of him. Bellmaus, you have the tenderest heart of us three; you must devote yourself to him today. BELLMAUS. But what shall I do with him?