Alma. We're pretty far advanced in culture here. Somebody told me that Berlin was almost as beautiful as Paris. Is that so?
Robert. I don't know Paris, dear.
Alma. Ugh! That's a shame! Every young man ought to know Paris.
Robert. (Charmed, yet shocked by her vulgarity) You little silly!
Alma. Ha I ha! ha! I'm a funny one! don't you think? Ha! ha! Yes, that's the way! (She goes about laughing, and rocks back and forth. She takes a little handkerchief, which she carries folded in triangular form in her belt; and holds it under Auguste's nose) Smell it?
Auguste. (Aside) Fine! What's that?
Alma. (Aside) Ixora, the very latest from Paris--got it to-day!
Auguste. Coming out to-night?
Alma. Don't know! He'll send me word--But to-morrow evening we're going to the masked ball! Ha! ha!
Robert. Now let's be sensible again, little one. Come here--Sit down--Here! Here!