LASKOWSKI (after drinking again). I say, dearie, one of these days when I die, do you know what I'll do? MERTENS. If one of us dies, I'll go to Karlsbad, eh, Laskowski? LASKOWSKI. Listen, dearie! You'll inherit all I have an' marry another fellow! PAUL (sternly). Control yourself a bit, Laskowski. LASKOWSKI (undaunted). Ain't that true, dearie? Tell me that you'll come to my grave! Promise me that much, dearie! Then I'll die easy. You'll come along and sit down and cry a few tearies on my grave. (He chokes down his tears and drinks again.) VON TIEDEMANN (has also been drinking freely). Well, here's to our friend, departed in his prime. (He raises his glass to LASKOWSKI.) MRS. VON TIEDEMANN (disapprovingly). Why, Fritz! VON TIEDEMANN (collecting himself). H'm! Well ... Didn't think of _that_. One forgets. Pardon me! ANTOINETTE. Will you not help yourselves, ladies and gentlemen? (To LENE, who is just passing with dishes in her hands.) Serve around once more! VON TIEDEMANN (helps himself). My favorite dish, veal-roast!... (To BODENSTEIN.) What do you say, Doctor, you are so quiet? DR. BODENSTEIN. Do whatever you do, with a will! I am now devoting myself to culinary delights! MERTENS. I regard this sauce a phenomenal achievement. MRS. SCHNAASE. There are tomatoes in it, I think. MERTENS. I must ask for the recipe. RAABE, JUNIOR'S (voice in the background). Here's to you! VOICES (in confusion, in the background). Here's to you! Your health! LASKOWSKI (gets up, raises his glass toward the background). Here's to everybody! VOICES (from behind). Here's to you, Laskowski! SCHROCK'S (voice). Here's to you, old rough-neck! PAUL. Don't drink so much, Laskowski! (ANTOINETTE bites her lips and looks away.) LASKOWSKI (whispering). Let me drink, brother! Drink and forget your pain, says Schiller. Ain't that it, old chap, ain't it, now? You're a kind of a poet yourself, ain't you? VON TIEDEMANN (in an undertone, to MERTENS). He's tanking up again! ANTOINETTE (to PAUL, through her teeth). Awful! PAUL (in an undertone). Oh, don't mind him. LASKOWSKI. Let me drink, old fellow. I'm not going to live long anyhow. It's on my chest ... Do you hear it rattle, old boy? Listen! Just listen! Listen to _me_, not to my dearie. When we're dead, we're out of it! We'll not get another drop! An' then we'll sleep till judgment day in the pitch-dark grave. Then you'll be rid of me, dearie! ANTOINETTE (gets up). Excuse me, Doctor! PAUL (also jumps up). Are you ill, madam? MRS. VON TIEDEMANN (moves aside). Now it is getting a bit uncanny. MRS. BOROWSKI (her hand at her ear). Are they talking about the judgment day? KUNZE (who eats away lustily, partly to himself). On the judgment day when the Lord will return to judge the quick and the dead. PAUL (to ANTOINETTE, who partly leans upon him). How are you, Antoinette! ANTOINETTE (has become composed again). I am all right again. MRS. SCHNAASE. Would you like a glass of water?