Alma. (Outside) Oh, please--no!
Heinecke. Are you coming?
(Enter Alma dressed in the robe of the Indian Princess, her hands covering her face for shame. All laugh and exclaim in surprise at the costume. Auguste feels the material.)
Auguste. The Indian dress.
Michalski. From the stark-naked princess!
Alma. I--just--wanted--to try it on! I'll take it right off!
Frau Heinecke. Ach! what a little angel!
Alma. Aren't you angry with me any more?
Heinecke. Angry! (Then recalling his severity) That is--yes--very. But for once we'll allow mercy to take the place of justice. (Turning around) That was pretty good, eh?
Frau Heinecke. (Strokes Alma's hair and leads her toward the left) Come, sit down. No, here on the arm-chair!