[She has been saying this very slowly, as if afraid, but now suddenly regains confidence, as if she had had a saving idea.
Tomorrow I could bring my maid.
KARL
Oh, no, no. Your husband would certainly want to know the reason, and really—if this door is closed—
[He goes back to his studio.
It's too bad! This snow takes all the light away. But never mind—never mind; the snow shovellers will be glad of it.
[He has spoken the last few sentences in a very low voice, as if the situation was painful to him. He goes backwards into the studio and now closes the door. [OLGA is standing with her back towards the studio, staring in front of her. She now shrinks together, shivers, turns around. Sudden resolution, she turns the key, locking the door to the studio. Slowly unbuttons her blouse, looks at the shawls, of which she chooses one, afterwards takes her blouse off quietly, putting the shawl around her shoulders. She has put the blouse on the settee before she arranges the shawl. She now picks up the blouse and wants to put it on the chair in front of the fireplace; her arm is already stretched out when she suddenly drops the blouse, utters a suppressed shriek, dropping blouse by chair, and crosses quickly to foot of couch.
[The DEVIL, in fashionable frock coat, a crimson carnation in buttonhole, a man of from thirty-five to thirty-eight years old, resembling in face classical Mephisto, very elegant, picks up the blouse and offers to OLGA in a most polite manner.
DEVIL
Pardon, Madame.
[Comes C. a little.