Dr. Fiebig stares wide-eyed at him. Witte gets impatient. “Remind me of the subtitle to our slogan?”

“The up-to-the-minute detergent with modern suds: not too much, not too little—just right!” Dr. Fiebig intones.

“There you have it! You can’t just make the claim, you’ve got to demonstrate it. The housewife has to see it with her own eyes.”

With a glance at his watch, the advertising director replies dryly that such a plan—or rather, the possibility of putting it into operation—could not be managed within his budget. It would need an organization that would have to be discussed first with the director of sales, and only then could the details of the campaign be contemplated.

“Okay then, let’s get the sales director in here—what? He’s on the road at the moment? In the provinces? Well then, his representative—he’s got to have a representative, doesn’t he?” Dr. Fiebig declares himself prepared to seek out his representative and speedily takes his leave. Witte turns to A. “You can see how things function around here. It just eats up all my time.”And in fact, the telephone purrs again. Witte picks up and hisses into the receiver, “Didn’t I tell you . . . What’s that? Aha, yes, put me through.” After a short pause, “Yes, Witte speaking—I’m honored, dear lady! Yes of course—yes—with pleasure—what was that? Do I recommend it? I certainly do! The castle itself is first-rate—a fairy-tale building—yes indeed, the former Empress Friedrich—excellent, really, the cuisine is A-1—that’s right, all-inclusive, we all got an egg for breakfast—oh, my sister and I, of course, ha ha, no one else—” shoots a look at Carlotta—“as I said, a stupendous atmosphere, very pretty rooms, very cozy, large lounges—but of course, happy to do it—hope to see you soon, dear lady!” He makes a little bow while still holding the receiver, presses the button to the outer office, “Bussekins, take down this lady’s number. That’s all.” And turning back to A.: “You can see, not a free minute!”

As if on cue, Carlotta lazily heaves her body out of the chair: “Apropos free minutes, it’s almost noon. Isn’t it time for a little pick-me-up?”

Witte distractedly concurs. “Yes, of course, Carlotta, child.” And to A.: “Let’s try to concentrate in this monkey house. What I’d like to demonstrate to you is the brilliantly effective action of our detergent. It’s the same thing I’d like to get across to the housewife. Just as you will soon be able to convince yourself of it, the German housewife will be able to see concretely that our advertising is not hollow phrase mongering (although our slogan is neat, isn’t it? Wittewash Washes Whiter than White—alliteration, right? Richard Wagner uses it too . . .” Carlotta brings a bottle of champagne and glasses from the outer office. “What? A whole bottle?!” says Witte. Carlotta shrugs. “For three people . . .” She starts to open the bottle. A. jumps up to help her. Their hands touch—the most banal form of bodily contact. Witte accepts a full glass. “All right then, cheers! A little champagne’s always good for what ails you. Loosens up the coronary arteries!”