LADY. I wish you'd kill me.

STRANGER. I don't wonder! Thrown out of hotels, because we're not
married, and pestered by the police, we're forced to come to this
place, the last I'd have wished. To this very room, number eight. ...
Someone must be against me!

LADY. Is this eight?

STRANGER. What? Have you been here before?

LADY. Have you?

STRANGER. Yes.

LADY. Then let's get away. Onto the road, into the woods. It
doesn't matter where.

STRANGER. I should like to. But after this terrible time I'm as
tired as you are. I felt this was to be our journey's end. I
resisted, I tried to go in the opposite direction, but trains were
late, or we missed them, and we had to come here. To this room! The
devil's in it--at least what I call the devil. But I'll be even
with him yet.

LADY. It seems we'll never find peace on earth again.

STRANGER. Nothing's been changed. The dying Christmas roses.
(Looking at two pictures.) There he is again. And that's the Hotel
Breuer in Montreux. I've stayed there, too.