HAUTEVILLE. It ought to be impossible here. The police have as few illusions as we. That is, provided they are properly instructed.
STROEBEL. That's right now, put us in the same class with yourself.
HAUTEVILLE, Why not? We and the police could easily ruin the credit of virtue, but neither of us do it. You—you because you regard that credit as a good substitute for the principal, and we,—Lord, because we need this credit as well.
STROEBEL. Both of us?
HAUTEVILLE. The very moment that public virtue loses its credit, the secret vices will drop in market value.
STROEBEL. What are you talking about anyway?
HAUTEVILLE. I'm telling you why both of us must hush things up.
STROEBEL. Then you are not convinced that there is a real public morality?
HAUTEVILLE. You mean that morality which you put on with your street clothes? I know it well. Gentlemen take it off in my apartment and hang it up in my wardrobe, and there I can inspect it very thoroughly. It is truly remarkable how our respected gentlemen still make formal social visits in costumes which have so often been patched.
REISACHER [who up to this point apparently—without paying any attention, has been sitting with his back toward them, turns half way round]. Pardon me, Herr Assessor.