EMANN. And a cock-tail!

DR. BODENSTEIN. To retard metabolism!

PAUL. The coffee will be here directly!

[AUNT CLARA appears upon the scene and talks to ANTOINETTE in an
undertone.]

LASKOWSKI (who has been dozing, wakes up again, takes his glass and
addresses PAUL). You know what I'de done, Paul, if I'd been your dad?

ANTOINETTE (nodding to AUNT CLARA). Miss Clara tells me that the
coffee is in the next room. Whenever the ladies and gentlemen are so
disposed ...

LASKOWSKI (interrupts). If I'de been your father, old chap, I'd drunk
all of my claret before my wind-up! I wouldn't 'a left a drop!

SCHROCK'S (voice). Greedy gut!

[All get up and are about to exchange formalities.]

RAABE JUNIOR'S (voice in the background). Here's to you!

DR. BODENSTEIN (knocks on his glass, with a loud voice). Ladies and
gentlemen! Let us dedicate a glass to the memory of the departed,
according to the beautiful tradition of our fathers; that we must not
mourn the dead, that we should envy them! Our slumbering friend lives
on in the memory of those who were near to him! To immortality, in this
sense, all of us may, after all, agree in a manner! (He raises his
glass and clinks with those beside him. All the rest do the same.
Silence prevails. Only the clinking of glasses is heard.)

PAUL (raising his glass, to ANTOINETTE). The doctor is right! Let us
drink to his memory, madam! May the earth rest lightly on him!
(ANTOINETTE lowers her head and stifles her tears.)

PAUL (looking at her fervently). Aren't yon going to respond?

ANTOINETTE (musters her strength, raises her head, and with tears in
her eyes clinks glasses with him).

PAUL (drinks). To the memory of my father.

ANTOINETTE (nods). Your father!

PAUL. To that of our parents, madam! A silent glass! (He empties his
glass.)

[ANTOINETTE puts down her glass, after she has drunk.]

LASKOWSKI (has noticed ANTOINETTE). Just cry ahead, dearie! Cry your
fill! That's the way they'll drink to your Heliodor some day!

DR. BODENSTEIN. And so they will drink to all of us some day!

KUNZE. For man's life on earth is like unto the grass of the field, on
which the wind bloweth. It flourisheth for a season and withereth and
no one remembereth it. So also the children of men.

DR. BODENSTEIN. This goblet to the departed, one and all! (He drinks
again.)

PAUL. The departed on these walls! I drink to you! (He raises his glass
to the portraits on th