LULU. (On the couch.) There's no one but ourselves here. ALVA. But =our= position? SCHÖN. (To Lulu.) What will you say to the police? LULU. Nothing. ALVA. He didn't want to remain a debtor to his destiny. LULU. He always thought of death immediately. SCHÖN. He thought what a human being can only dream of. LULU. He has paid dearly for it. ALVA. He had what =we= don't have! SCHÖN. (Suddenly violent.) I know your reasons! I have no cause to consider you! If you try every means to prevent having any brothers and sisters, that's all the more reason why I should get more children. ALVA. You've a poor knowledge of men. LULU. You get out an extra yourself! SCHÖN. (With passionate indignation.) He had no moral sense! (Suddenly controlling himself again.) Paris in revolution--? ALVA. Our editors act as though they'd been struck. Everything has stopped dead. SCHÖN. That's got to help me over this! Now if only the police would come. The minutes are worth more than gold. (The bell rings in the corridor.) ALVA. There they are-- (Schön starts to the door. Lulu jumps up.) LULU. Wait, you've got blood-- SCHÖN. Where? LULU. Wait, I'll wipe it. (Sprinkles her handkerchief with heliotrope and wipes the blood from Schön's hand.) SCHÖN. It's your husband's blood. LULU. It leaves no trace. SCHÖN. Monster! LULU. You will marry me, though. (The bell rings in the corridor.) Only have patience, children. (Schön goes out and returns with Escherich, a reporter.) ESCHERICH. (Breathless.) Allow me to--to introduce myself-- SCHÖN. You've run? ESCHERICH. (Giving him his card.) From police headquarters. A suicide, I understand. SCHÖN. (Reads.) Fritz Escherich, correspondent of the "News and Novelties." Come along. ESCHERICH. One moment. (Takes out his note-book and pencil, looks around the parlor, writes a few words, bows to Lulu, writes, turns to the broken door, writes.) A kitchen-ax. (Starts to lift it.) SCHÖN. (Holding him back.) Excuse me. ESCHERICH. (Writing.) Door broken open with a kitchen-ax. (Examines the lock.) SCHÖN. (His hand on the door.) Look before you, my dear sir. ESCHERICH. Now if you will have the kindness to open the door-- (Schön opens it. Escherich lets book and pencil fall, clutches at his hair.) Merciful Heaven! God!! SCHÖN. Look it all over carefully. ESCHERICH. I can't look at it! SCHÖN. (Snorting scornfully.) Then what did you come here for? ESCHERICH. To--to cut up--to cut up his throat with a razor! SCHÖN. Have you seen it all? ESCHERICH. That must feel-- SCHÖN. (Draws the door to, steps to the writing-table.) Sit down. Here is paper and pen. Write. ESCHERICH. (Mechanically taking his seat.) I can't write-- SCHÖN. (Behind his chair.) Write! Persecution--mania.... ESCHERICH. (Writes.) Per-secu-tion--mania. (The bell rings in the corridor.) CURTAIN ACT III