Bishop. Perhaps for that very reason. Ahem!—Cornelia, you must go down and—
Cornelia. Not on any account! I refuse!
Mrs. Röst (to her husband). Come, dear! Be quick, let us get away. (Looks for her parasol.) Where is my parasol?
Bishop (in a low voice). Won't you wait a little while Mr. Röst?
Röst. Oho!
Mrs. Röst. My parasol! I can't find my parasol.
Röst. Because you have got it in your hand, my love!
Mrs. Röst. So I have! You see how upset I am. Make haste—come along! Can we get out this way?
Röst. Through the Bishop's bedroom!
Mrs. Röst. Oh!—But if you come with me, my dear!—Are we to meet this woman? Why do you stand still? Surely you don't want to—?