Alma. What is it--what's happened?
Heinecke. Ha! ha!
(All take their places about him.)
Alma. And I can go to the masked ball?
Heinecke. Ha--ha! Yes, you can go to the masked ball.
Auguste. (Ironically) The poor child!
Heinecke. (Jumping up) I must go this minute to the bank!
Michalski. (Opening bottle of liqueur) Wait! We'll wet up our luck so it'll stick! Alma, some glasses.
Frau Heinecke. (Getting up) Let the poor child sit still! I'll 'tend to that myself! (She goes to the washstand and brings a set of liqueur glasses. To Auguste) What did you mean before about Robert?
Auguste. You'll see quick enough.