Auguste. (Aside) Lord, ain't it touching!
(Frau Heinecke helps Alma off with her jacket.)
Heinecke. Now what do you say? (Stroking her cheek) Are you my little treasure or not, eh?
Alma. (Trilling) "Oui, cher papa! c'est Girofla!"
Heinecke. Do you hear how she sings? Real Italian!
Robert. Now what's this I hear: you want to be a great singer?
Alma. Well, I'd not object to that!
Frau Heinecke. Won't you cat a little piece of pound-cake, Alma?
Alma. Merci beaucoup! (Goes about in front of the mirror, eating)
Robert. And you are studying hard?