Augusta.
Now what do you mean by that, mother? We are—what we are. Other people who do—Lord knows what—they’re no better!
Robert.
As a matter of fact there are always simple souls to be found who are never happy unless they can potter about tinkering their neighbours’ affairs—exploded ideas!—Rubbish!
Mrs Buchner (seizing Robert by both hands, with feeling).
Mr Robert! I feel under a distinct obligation to you. I’m quite charmed. Honestly, you haven’t offended me in the least!
Robert (a little taken aback).
You are an extraordinary woman!
[Friebe comes from the cellar; he carries in his left hand three bottles of red wine, the bottle necks between his fingers, a bottle of cognac under his left arm. In his right hand he has the cellar key. Advancing to Mrs Scholz, importantly.]—
Friebe.