BOLZ (excitedly).
For all I care write about emigration to Australia; that, at any rate, will give no offense.
KÄMPE.
Good! Am I to encourage it or advise against it?
BOLZ (quickly).
Advise against it, of course; we need every one who is willing to work here at home. Depict Australia as a contemptible hole. Be perfectly truthful but make it as black as possible—how the Kangaroo, balled into a heap, springs with invincible malice at the settler's head, while the duckbill nips at the back of his legs; how the gold-seeker has, in winter, to stand up to his neck in salt water while for three months in summer he has not a drop to drink; how he may live through all that only to be eaten up at last by thievish natives. Make it very vivid and end up with the latest market prices for Australian wool from the Times. You'll find what books you need in the library. [Slams the door to.]
OLDENDORF (at the table).
Do you know Miss Runeck? She often inquires about you in her letters to Ida.
BOLZ.
Indeed? Yes, to be sure, I know her. We are from the same village—she from the manor-house, I from the parsonage. My father taught us together. Oh, yes, I know her!