Scene.—Rita's boudoir. Small room elegantly furnished in Louis XVI. style. In the background, a broad open door, with draperies, which leads into an antechamber. To the right, a piano, in front of which stands a large, comfortable stool.
Rita (enters the antechamber attired in an elaborate ball toilette. She wears a gray silk cloak, a lace fichu, and a parasol. Gaily tripping toward the front, she sings): "Les envoyées du paradis sont les mascottes, mes amis...." (She lays the parasol on the table and takes off her long white gloves, all the while singing the melody. She interrupts herself and calls aloud) Bertha! Bertha! (Sings) O Bertholina, O Bertholina!
Bertha (walks through the middle): My lady, your pleasure?
(Rita has taken off her cloak and stands in front of the mirror. She is still humming the melody absentmindedly).
(Bertha takes off Rita's wraps.)
Rita (turns around merrily): Tell me, Bertha, why does not the electric bell ring? I must always sing first, must always squander all my flute notes first ere I can entice you to come. What do you suppose that costs? With that I can immediately arrange another charity matinée. Terrible thing, isn't it?
Bertha: Yes. The man has not yet repaired it.
Rita: O, Bertholina, why has the man not yet repaired it?
