SCHMOCK (even before the last remark, has been seen looking in at the door, coming forward).  I wish you good evening, Mr. Bolz.

BOLZ.  I wish you the same and of even better quality, Mr. Schmock.

SCHMOCK.  Might I have a couple of words with you?

BOLZ.  A couple?  Don’t ask for too few, noble armor-bearer of the Coriolanus!  A couple of dozen words you shall have, but no more.

SCHMOCK.  Could you not employ me on your paper.

BOLZ (to KAeMPE and BELLMAUS).  Do you hear that?  On our paper?  H’m! 
’Tis much you ask, noble Roman!

SCHMOCK.  I am sick of the Coriolanus.  I would do any kind of work you needed done.  I want to be with respectable people, where one can earn something and be treated decently.

BOLZ.  What are you asking of us, slave of Rome?  We to entice you away from your party—­never!  We do violence to your political convictions?  Make you a renegade?  We bear the guilt of your joining our party?  No, sir!  We have a tender conscience.  It rises in arms against your proposition!

SCHMOCK.  Why do you let that trouble you?  Under Blumenberg I have learned to write whichever way the wind blows.  I have written on the left and again on the right.  I can write in any direction.

BOLZ.  I see you have character.  You would be a sure success on our paper.  Your offer does us honor, but we cannot accept it now.  So momentous an affair as your defection needs deep consideration.  Meanwhile you will have confided in no unfeeling barbarian. (Aside to the others.) We may be able to worm something out of him.  Bellmaus, you have the tenderest heart of us three; you must devote yourself to him today.

BELLMAUS.  But what shall I do with him?

BOLZ.  Take him into the restaurant, sit down in a corner with him, pour punch into every hollow of his poor head until his secrets jump out like wet mice.  Make him chatter, especially about the elections.  Go, little man, and take good care not to get overheated yourself and babble.

BELLMAUS.  In that case I shall not see much of the fete.

BOLZ.  That’s true, my son!  But what does the fete mean to you?  Heat, dust, and stale dance-music.  Besides, we will tell you all about it in the morning; and then you are a poet, and can imagine the whole affair to be much finer than it really was.  So don’t take it to heart.  You may think you have a thankless role, but it is the most important of all, for it requires coolness and cleverness.  Go, mousey, and look out about getting overheated.

BELLMAUS.  I’ll look out, old tom-cat.—­Come along Schmock!

[BELLMAUS and SCHMOCK leave.]

BOLZ.  We might as well separate, too.

KAeMPE.  I’ll go and see how people feel.  If I need you I’ll look you up.

BOLZ.  I had better not show myself much.  I’ll stay around here.