I thank you for your communication even if I cannot attach weight to it, and I am glad to have met in you one of the editorial staff. Journalists, I find, are dangerous people, and it is just as well to secure their good will; although I, as an unimportant person, will try never to furnish matter for a newspaper article. [As BELLMAUS lingers.] Can I do anything more for you?
BELLMAUS (with warmth).
Yes, Miss Runeck, if you would be so good as to accept this copy of my poems. They are poems of youth, to be sure, my first attempts, but I count on your friendly indulgence.
[Draws a gilt-edged book from his pocket, and hands it to her.]
ADELAIDE.
I thank you heartily, Mr. Bellmaus. Never before has a poet presented me with his works. I shall read the beautiful book through in the country, and, under my trees, shall rejoice that I have friends in town who spare a thought for me too, when they represent beauty for other people.
BELLMAUS (fervently).
Rest assured, Miss Runeck, that no poet will forget you, who has once had the good fortune to make your acquaintance.
[Exit with a deep bow.]