Kämpe, can you come in a moment? (To MILLER, who is waiting at the door.) Take that proof straight to the press!
[MILLER takes the sheet from BELLMAUS and hurries off.]
Enter KÄMPE.
KÄMPE.
But I can't write anything decent while you are making such a noise.
BOLZ.
You can't? What have you just written, then? At most, I imagine, a letter to a ballet-dancer or an order to your tailor.
BELLMAUS.
No, he writes tender letters. He is seriously in love, for he took me walking in the moonlight yesterday and scorned the idea of a drink.
KÄMPE (who has seated himself comfortably).