HEILMANN. You go up with her, please. I'll be right back. (He hurries out, left. Lulu goes out at lower left. Rodrigo follows her.)
PUNTSCHU. Some heat, that! If I don't cut off your ears, you'll cut 'em off me! If I can't hire out my Jehoshaphat, I've just got to help myself with my brains! Won't they get wrinkled, my brains! Won't they get indisposed! Won't they need to bathe in Eau de Cologne! (Bob, a groom in a red jacket, tight leather breeches, and twinkling riding-boots, 15 years old, brings in a telegram.)
BOB. Mr. Puntschu, the banker!
PUNTSCHU. (Breaks open the telegram and murmurs:) “Jungfrau Funicular Stock fallen to—” Ay, ay, so goes the world! (To Bob.) Wait! (Gives him a tip.) Tell me—what's your name?
BOB. Well, it's really Freddy, but they call me Bob, because that's the fashion now.
PUNTSCHU. How old are you?
BOB. Fifteen.
KADIDIA. (Enters hesitatingly from lower left.) I beg your pardon, can you tell me if mama is here?
PUNTSCHU. No, my dear. (Aside.) Devil, she's got breeding!
KADIDIA. I'm hunting all over for her; I can't find her anywhere.