(Friedrich Stierwald, a man very carefully dressed in black, about thirty years of age, with a black crêpe around his stiff hat, enters from the rear into the antechamber, followed by Bertha.)
Bertha: But the lady is not well.
Friedrich: Please tell the lady that I am passing through here, and that I must speak with her about a very pressing matter. It is absolutely necessary. Please! (He gives her money and his card.)
Bertha: Yes, I shall take your card, but I fear she will not receive you.
Friedrich: Why not? O, yes! Just go——
Bertha: This morning she sang at a charity matinée and so——
Friedrich: I know, I know. Listen! (Rita's singing has grown louder) Don't you hear how she sings? Oh, do go!
Bertha (shaking her head): Well, then—wait a moment. (She passes through the room to the half-opened door of the sleeping apartment, knocks) Dear lady!
Rita (from within): Well? What's the matter?
Bertha (at the door): Oh, this gentleman here—he wishes to see you very much. He is passing through here.