[Goes up to hat.
KARL, L. C.
Can't you—
DEVIL
Come now! Let us be logical—let us look the situation in the face. Enter your husband—
[OLGA comes down R.
"Well, here I am: where is the picture?" "The picture?"
[Shrugs his shoulders.
"There is no picture. Karl hasn't even touched a brush." Your husband is astonished—he tries to speak—the words stick in his throat—he gasps: "Well, if you didn't paint, why is she dressing?" Imagine the situation! You look at one another horribly embarrassed; Karl stammers something, but that only makes it worse. Nothing has happened—and yet the mischief is done. What mischief? Appearances—appearances. They're like fly-paper. There's no getting away from them.
[Speaking to OLGA: