LULU. Yes.
ALVA. I don't know if he's in the theater.
LULU. Doesn't he want to see me at all?
ALVA. He has so little time.
LULU. His bride occupies him.
ALVA. Speculations. He gives himself no rest. (Schön enters.) You? We're just speaking of you.
LULU. Is he there?
SCHÖN. You're changing?
LULU. (Peeping over the Spanish screen, to Schön.) You write in all the papers that I'm the most gifted danseuse who ever trod the stage, a second Taglioni and I don't know what else—and you haven't once found me gifted enough to convince yourself of the fact.
SCHÖN. I have so much to write. You see, I was right: there were hardly any seats left. You must keep rather more in the proscenium.