Friedrich (shoves the bouquet, which she holds up closely to his face, aside): I thank you.
Rita (without noticing him, to Bertha): Well?
Bertha (pointing to the bouquet): The Count has written something on a card.
Rita: His card? Where? (She searches among the flowers) Oh, here! (She reads; then softly to Bertha) It is all right.
(Bertha leaves.)
Rita (reads again): "Pour prendre congé." (With an easy sigh) Yes, yes.
Friedrich: What is the matter?
Rita: Sad! His education was hardly half finished and he already forsakes me.
Friedrich: What do you mean? I do not understand you at all.
Rita (her mind is occupied): Too bad. Now he'll grow entirely stupid.