RODRIGO. Because the creature is of noble blood. I'm a man of the world, and can do distinguished conversation better than any of you. But now (_with a gesture_) my talk is hanging out of my mouth! Will you get me the money before to-morrow evening or won't you?
RODRIGO. I'll have hen-droppings in my head before I'll let myself be put off with that! He'll give you his last cent if you'll only do your damned duty once! You lured the poor lad here, and now he can see where to scare up a suitable engagement for his accomplishments.
LULU. What has it to do with you if he wastes his money with women or at cards?
RODRIGO. Do you absolutely *want*, then, to throw the last penny that his father earned by his paper into the jaws of this rapacious pack? You'll make four people happy if you'll not take things too exactly and sacrifice yourself for a beneficent purpose! Has it got to be only Casti-Piani *forever*?
LULU. (_Lightly._) Shall I ask him perhaps to light you down the stairs?
RODRIGO. As you wish, countess! If I don't get the twenty thousand marks by to-morrow evening, I make a statement to the police and your court has an end. Auf Wiedersehen! (_Heilmann enters, breathless, upper right._)
LULU. You're looking for Miss Magelone? She's not here.
HEILMANN. No, I'm looking for something else--
RODRIGO. (_Taking him to the entry-door, opposite him._) Second door on the left.
LULU. (_To Rodrigo._) Did you learn that from your bride?
HEILMANN. (_Bumping into Puntschu in the doorway._) Excuse me, my angel!
PUNTSCHU. Ah, it's you. Miss Magelone's waiting for you in the lift.
HEILMANN. You go up with her, please. I'll be right back. (_He hurries out, left. Lulu goes out at lower left. Rodrigo follows her._)
PUNTSCHU. Some heat, that! If I don't cut off *your* ears, you'll cut 'em off me! If I can't hire out my Jehoshaphat, I've just got to help myself with my brains! Won't they get wrinkled, my brains! Won't they get indisposed! Won't they need to bathe in Eau de Cologne! (_Bob, a groom in a red jacket, tight leather breeches, and twinkling riding-boots, 15 years old, brings in a telegram._)
PUNTSCHU. (_Breaks open the telegram and murmurs:_) "Jungfrau Funicular Stock fallen to--" Ay, ay, so goes the world! (_To Bob._) Wait! (_Gives him a tip._) Tell me--what's your name?