Rita (calls after her): And where is the coffee? I shall famish.
Bertha (outside): Immediately.
Friedrich: The—the Count—did you say?
Rita: Yes, quite a fine fellow otherwise, but—would not fit in now. I wanted to say: I am passionately fond of electric bells. You know they have a fabulous charm for me. One only needs to touch them softly, ever so softly, with the small finger, and still cause a terrible noise. Fine—is it not? You wanted to talk about serious matters. It seems so to me.
Friedrich: Yes. And I beg of you, Miss Erna——
Rita: Erna?
Friedrich: Erna!
Rita: Oh, well!
Friedrich (continuing): I beg of you; be really and truly serious. Yes? Listen to what I have to say to you. Be assured that it comes from an honest, warm heart. During the years in which I have not seen you, I have grown to be a serious man—perhaps, too serious for my age—but my feelings for you have remained young, quite young. Do you hear me, Erna?
Rita (leaning back in the rocking chair, with a sigh): I hear.