Major.
Well, I should like to take this occasion to ask you just why you don't
write to us any more.
Frau von Drosse.
Please, Richard, please say nothing to him--he telegraphed.
Fritz (_starting anxiously_).
Telegraphed? What did I telegraph?
(Major _makes signals to him behind his mother's back_.)
Fritz.
Yes, of course. You see, father, I telegraphed.... And then, not long
ago, I fell from the trapeze and sprained my arm a bit.
Frau von Drosse.
You see, Richard, that is what hurt him just now; and yet you scolded
him.
Fritz.
Mamma, father is right.... A soldier is not allowed to show signs of
pain--he has no pain. That is something which doesn't happen, it is
something which doesn't happen at all, does it, Agnes?
Agnes.
Why do you ask _me_, Fritz?
Major.
Remarkable!... You know, darling, the boy would like something to eat.
In such cases, you always see to it yourself--eh?
Fritz.