their shoes for them; but when they must have an artiste they cut her down from the very gallows with their own hands and with the most entangling compliments. [Pg 22] RODRIGO. [Pg 22] ALVA. In my situation there's nothing more in the world to fear—but death. In the realm of sensation I am the poorest beggar. But I can no longer scrape up the moral courage to exchange my established position for the excitements of the wild, adventurous life! ALVA. RODRIGO. She had sent Papa Schigolch and me together in chase of some strong antidote for sleeplessness. We each got a twenty-mark piece for expenses. There we see the youngster sitting in the Night-light Café. He was sitting like a criminal on the prisoner's bench. Schigolch sniffed at him from all sides, and remarked, “He is still virgin.” (Up in the gallery, dragging steps are heard.) There she is! The future magnificent trapeze-artiste of the present age! RODRIGO. (The curtains part at the stair-head, and Lulu, supported by Schigolch, and in a black dress, slowly and wearily descends.) SCHIGOLCH. Hui, old mold! We've still to get over the frontier to-day. SCHIGOLCH. RODRIGO. (Glaring stupidly at Lulu.) Thunder of heaven! Death! RODRIGO. LULU. (Speaks, to the end of the act, in the gayest tones.) Slowly! You're pinching my arm! LULU. RODRIGO. How did you ever get the shamelessness to break out of prison with such a wolf's face?! RODRIGO. SCHIGOLCH. Stop your snout! SCHIGOLCH.
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