Yes, he often bursts forth on the subject.
ADELAIDE (_rising_).
I thank you for your communication even if I cannot attach weight to
it, and I am glad to have met in you one of the editorial staff.
Journalists, I find, are dangerous people, and it is just as well to
secure their good will; although I, as an unimportant person, will try
never to furnish matter for a newspaper article. [_As_ BELLMAUS
_lingers._] Can I do anything more for you?
BELLMAUS (_with warmth_).
Yes, Miss Runeck, if you would be so good as to accept this copy of my
poems. They are poems of youth, to be sure, my first attempts, but I
count on your friendly indulgence.
[_Draws a gilt-edged book from his pocket, and hands it to her._]
ADELAIDE.
I thank you heartily, Mr. Bellmaus. Never before has a poet presented
me with his works. I shall read the beautiful book through in the
country, and, under my trees, shall rejoice that I have friends in
town who spare a thought for me too, when they represent beauty for
other people.
BELLMAUS (_fervently_).
Rest assured, Miss Runeck, that no poet will forget you, who has once
had the good fortune to make your acquaintance.
[_Exit with a deep bow._]
ADELAIDE.
This Mr. Schmock with the three glasses of punch is well worth
cultivating, I should say. Scarcely have I arrived in town when my
room turns into a regular business office, where editors and authors
ply their trade. I fear that is an omen.
[_Exit to the left.
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