post of observation.

LULU. (Plucking her left trowser-leg up to the knee, to Schwarz.) So?

SCHWARZ. Yes....

LULU. (Plucking it a thought higher.) So?

SCHWARZ. Yes, yes....

DR. GOLL. (To Schön who has seated himself on the chair next him, with a gesture.) From this place I find her still more attractive.

LULU. (Without stirring.) I beg pardon! I am equally attractive on all sides.

SCHWARZ. (To Lulu.) The right knee further forward, please.

SCHÖN. (With a gesture.) The body does show finer lines perhaps.

SCHWARZ. The light to-day can be borne at least half way.

DR. GOLL. Oh, you must throw on lots of it! Hold your brush a bit longer.

SCHWARZ. Certainly, Dr. Goll.

DR. GOLL. Treat her as a piece of still-life.

SCHWARZ. Certainly, Doctor. (To Lulu.) You used to hold your head a wee mite higher, Mrs. Goll.

LULU. (Raising her head.) Paint my lips a little open.

SCHÖN. Paint snow on ice. If you get warm doing that, then instantly your art gets inartistic!

SCHWARZ. Certainly, Doctor.

DR. GOLL. Art, you know, must so reproduce nature that one can find at least some spiritual enjoyment in it!

LULU. (Opening her mouth a little, to Schwarz.) So—look. I'll hold it half opened, so.

SCHWARZ. As soon as the sun comes, the wall opposite throws warm reflections in here.

DR. GOLL. (To Lulu.) You must keep your position just as if our Velasquez here didn't exist at all.

LULU. Well, a painter isn't a man at all, anyway.

SCHÖN. I don't think you ought to judge the whole profession by just one famous exception.

SCHWARZ. (Stepping back from the easel.) I should have liked to have had to hire a different studio last fall.

SCHÖN. (To Goll.) What I wanted to ask you—have you seen the little Murphy girl yet as a Peruvian pearl-fisher?

DR. GOLL. I see her to-morrow for the fourth time. Prince Polossov took me. His hair has already got dark yellow again with delight.

SCHÖN. So you find her quite fabulous too.

DR. GOLL. Who ever wants to judge of that beforehand?

LULU. I think someone knocked.

SCHWARZ. Pardon me a moment. (Goes and opens the door.)

DR. GOLL. (To Lulu.) You can safely smile at him with less bashfulness!

SCHÖN. He makes nothing of it.

DR. GOLL. And if he did!—What are we two sitting here for?

ALVA SCHÖN. (Entering, still behind the Spanish screen.) May one come in?

SCHÖN. My son!

LULU. Oh! It's Mr. Alva!

DR. GOLL. Don't mind. Just come along in.

ALVA. (Stepping forward, shakes hands with Schön and Goll.) Glad to see you. (Turning toward Lulu.) Do I see a-right? Oh, if only I could engage you for my title part!

LULU. I don't think I could dance nearly well enough for your show!

ALVA. But you do have a dancing-master such as cannot be found on any stage in Europe.

SCHÖN. But what brings you here?

DR. GOLL. Maybe you're having somebody or other painted here, too, in secret!

ALVA. (To Schön.) I wanted to take you to the dress rehearsal.

DR. GOLL. (As Schön rises.) Do you have 'em dance to-day in full costume?

ALVA. Of course. Come along, too. In five minutes I must be on the stage. (To Lulu.) Unhappy!

DR. GOLL. I've forgotten—what's the name of your ballet?

ALVA. Dalailama.

DR. GOLL. I thought he was in a madhouse.

SCHÖN. You're thinking of Nietzsche, Doctor.

DR. GOLL. You're right; I got 'em mixed up.

ALVA. I have helped Buddhism to its legs.

DR. GOLL. By his legs is the stage-poet known.

ALVA. Corticelli dances the youthful Buddha as tho she had seen the light of the world by the Ganges.

SCHÖN. So long as her mother lived, she danced with her legs.

ALVA. Then when she got free she danced with her intelligence.

DR. GOLL. Now she dances with her heart.

ALVA. If you'd like to see her—?

DR. GOLL. Thank you.

ALVA. Come along with us!

DR. GOLL. Impossible.

SCHÖN. Anyway, we have no time to lose.

ALVA. Come with us, doctor. In the third act you see Dalailama in his cloister, with his monks—

DR. GOLL. The only thing I care about is the young Buddha.

ALVA. Well, what's hindering you?

DR. GOLL. I can't. I can't do it.

ALVA. We're going to Peter's, after it. There you can express your admiration.

DR. GOLL. Don't press it on me, please.

ALVA. You'll see the tame monkey, the two Brahmans, the little girls....

DR. GOLL. For heaven's sake, just keep away from me with your little girls!

LULU. Reserve one of the proscenium boxes for us on Monday, Mr. Alva.

ALVA. How could you doubt that I would, dear lady!

DR. GOLL. When I come back the whole picture will be spoilt on me.

ALVA. Well, it could be painted over.

DR. GOLL. If I don't explain to this Caravacci every stroke of his brush—

SCHÖN. Your fears are unfounded, I think....

DR. GOLL. Next time, gentlemen!

ALVA. The Brahmans are getting impatient. The daughters of Nirvana are shivering in their tights.

DR. GOLL. Damned enchantment!

SCHÖN. They'll quarrel with us, if we don't bring you with us.

DR. GOLL. In five minutes I'll be back. (Stands down right, behind Schwarz and compares the picture with Lulu.)

ALVA. (To Lulu.) Duty calls me, gracious lady!

DR.