You may talk of my age, but not of yours.
Beata.
Look at the grey hair--here, on my temples; and my medicine-bottles over there. I never stir without them now.
Baron Ludwig.
I have been distressed to hear of your illness.
Beata.
Yes, my heart bothers me--an old story. My heart is tired--and I--I'm not. And when I drive it too hard it grows a little restive now and then. But it doesn't matter! (Enter Ellen.) Is that you, Ellen? Come in, dear.
Ellen (in skating dress).
Mother, dear, I didn't know you had a visitor. How do you do, your Excellency?
Baron Ludwig.