LULU. (Perfectly composed again, stepping before the picture with the lamp.) Didn't you know him, then?
GESCHWITZ. No. It must have been long before my time. I only occasionally heard chance remarks of yours, that he had cut his throat from persecution-mania.
ALVA. (Comparing the picture with Lulu.) The child-like expression in the eyes is still absolutely the same in spite of all she has lived thru since. (In joyous excitement.) The dewy freshness that covered her skin, the sweet-smelling breath from her lips, the rays of light that beam from her white forehead, and this challenging splendor of young flesh in throat and arms—
SCHIGOLCH. All that's gone with the rubbish wagon. She can say with self-assurance: That was me once! The man she falls into the hands of to-day 'll have no conception of what we were when we were young.
ALVA. (Cheerfully.) God be thanked, we don't notice the continual decline when we see a person all the time. (Lightly.) The woman blooms for us in the moment when she hurls the man to destruction for the rest of his life. That is her nature and her destiny.
SCHIGOLCH. Down in the street-lamp's shimmer she's still a match for a dozen walking spectres. The man who still wants to make connections at this hour looks out more for heart-qualities than mere physical good points. He decides for the pair of eyes from which the least thievery sparkles.
LULU. (Now as pleased as Alva.) I shall see if you're right. Adieu.
ALVA. (In sudden anger.) You shall not go down again, as I live!
GESCHWITZ. Where do you want to go?
ALVA. Down to fetch up a man.