LULU. I lie and sleep.
SCHIGOLCH. That's genteel. That always looks like something. And afterwards?
LULU. I stretch—till it cracks.
SCHIGOLCH. And when it has cracked?
LULU. What do you mind about that?
SCHIGOLCH. What do I mind about that? What do I mind? I'd rather live till the last trump and renounce all heavenly joys than leave my Lulu deprived of anything down here behind me. What do I mind about that? It's my sympathy. To be sure, my better self is already transfigured—but I still have some sense for this world.
LULU. I haven't.
SCHIGOLCH. You're too well off.
LULU. (Shuddering.) Idiot....
SCHIGOLCH. Better than with the old dancing-bear?