Anathema: A Tragedy in Seven Scenes
ACT ONE
_The south of Russia. A hot summer midday. A wide road near the end of a large, thickly populated city. Starting from the left corner of the stage, the road crosses it diagonally, turning in the rear of the stage to the right. Two high stone posts, of ancient construction, dilapidated and slightly bent, indicate the boundary of the city. On the side of the city line, at the right post, there is a deserted, once yellow sentry-box, the plaster fallen of in spots and the windows tightly boarded and nailed up. On the sides of the road there are several small shops made of cheap wood, separated from one another by narrow passages--in the desperate and ineffectual struggle for existence the little shops seem to be clambering stupidly upon one another. The people are dealing in all sorts of merchandise: candies, sunflower seeds, cheap sausages, herrings; each shop has a small, dirty counter, through which a pipe with two faucets stands out prominently--one of them for soda-water, at a penny a glass,--the other for seltzer. One of the little shops belongs to David Leizer; the others--to the Greek Purikes, to the young Jewess Sonka Zitron, and to the Russian, Ivan Bezkrainy, who, in addition to his business, mends shoes and rubbers; he is the only one who has "real noblemen's" cider for sale._
_The sun is burning mercilessly and the few small trees, with their leaves curled up from the heat, are pining for rain; the dusty road is deserted. Beyond the posts, where the road is turning toward the right, there is a high precipice--the dust-covered tops of trees are seen here and there in the descending distance. And embracing the entire horizon, the sea has stretched itself in a smoky blue strip, sleeping peacefully in the heat and glare of the sun._
_Sarah, David Leizer's wife, an old Jewess, exhausted by life, is seated in front of her little shop. She is mending some rags and is chatting languidly with the other shopkeepers._
SARAH.
No one is buying anything. No one is drinking any soda-water; no one is buying any sunflower seeds or any fine candies which melt in the mouth.
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
No one is buying anything.
SARAH.
One might think that all the people have died so as not to buy anything. One might think that we remained alone with our stores in the whole world--we alone in the whole world.
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
We alone.
BEZKRAINY.
The sun has burnt all the customers--only the shopkeepers remained.
_Silence. The soft sobbing of Sonka is heard._
BEZKRAINY.
Sonka, yesterday you bought a chicken. Did you kill or rob anybody that you can afford to buy chickens? And if you are so rich and you hide your money, why do you deal here and hinder us from making a living?
PURIKES.
_Like an echo._
And hinder us from making a living?
BEZKRAINY.
Sonka, I am asking you,--is it true that you bought a chicken yesterday? Don't lie, I know it from trustworthy people.
_Sonka maintains silence, weeping._
SARAH.
When a Jew buys a chicken, it is because either the Jew is sick or the chicken is sick. Sonka Zitron's son is dying; yesterday he commenced to die and to-day he will end it--the boy is tenacious and he is dying slowly.
BEZKRAINY.
Why did she come here if her son is dying?
SARAH.
Because it is necessary to trade.
PURIKES.
It is necessary to trade.
_Sonka is weeping._
SARAH.
Yesterday we ate nothing, we waited for to-day; and to-day we will eat nothing, waiting that to-morrow will bring us customers and happiness. Happiness! Who knows what is happiness? All people are equal before God, and yet one sells two cents' worth, while another sells thirty cents' worth. And one always two cents' worth, while the other always thirty cents' worth, and no one knows why happiness is given to a person.
BEZKRAINY.
I used to sell thirty cents' worth, and now I sell only two cents' worth. At that time I had no "noblemen's" cider, and now I have it, and yet I sell only two cents' worth now. Luck is changeable!
PURIKES.
Luck is changeable.
SARAH.
Yesterday my son Naum came and asked me: "Mother, where is father?" So I said to him: "What for do you want to know where father is? David Leizer, your father, is a sick, unfortunate man, who is going to die soon; and he goes to the seashore to commune in solitude with God about his fate. Don't disturb your father, he is going to die soon--you had better tell me what you want to say." And Naum answered: "I will tell you, mother,--I am beginning to die!" That is what Naum answered. When David Leizer, my old husband, came home, I said to him: "You are still steadfast in your uprightness! Blaspheme God and die! For your son Naum is already beginning to die."
_Sonka is weeping more loudly._
PURIKES.
_Suddenly looks around, frightened._
But what--But what if people should stop buying things altogether?
SARAH.
_Frightened._
What do you mean?
PURIKES.
_With ever growing fear._
What if people should suddenly stop buying things altogether? What are we to do then?
BEZKRAINY.
_With alarm._
How is it possible that people should stop buying things altogether? That's impossible!
SARAH.
That's impossible.
PURIKES.
It is possible. Suddenly everybody may stop buying things.
_All are seized with horror; even Sonka stops weeping, and pale-faced, she surveys the deserted road with her frightened, dark eyes. The sun is burning mercilessly. Anathema appears in the distance, at the turn of the road._
SARAH.
A customer!
PURIKES.
A customer!
SONKA.
A customer! A customer!
_She cries again. Anathema comes nearer to them. Notwithstanding the heat, he wears a black coat of fine cloth, a black silk hat, black gloves; only his necktie is white, lending a solemn air to his costume. He is tall, and, though grey-haired, straight and stately. The face of the accursed one is of a swarthy-grey color; his features are stern and of peculiar beauty. When Anathema takes off his hat, his enormous forehead is revealed, furrowed by wrinkles. His head is unusually large and his greyish black hair is dishevelled. Anathema's neck is wiry and strong, but it is rather thin and long, and in his nervous contortions he carries his head like a heavy weight, giving it the appearance of strange inquisitiveness, restlessness and malignity._
SARAH.
Do you want perhaps a glass of soda-water, sir? It is as hot as in Hell, and if you don't drink, you may die of a sunstroke.
BEZKRAINY.
Real noblemen's cider!
PURIKES.
Violet soda! My God, violet soda!
SARAH.
Soda, seltzer!
BEZKRAINY.
Don't drink her soda-water. From her water rats are dying and roaches stand up on their hind legs.
SARAH.
Ivan, aren't you ashamed to take away a customer? I am not saying anything about your noblemen's cider, which is fit only for mad dogs to drink.
PURIKES.
_Joyously._
A customer! A customer! Please don't buy anything from me, you needn't buy anything from me,--all I want is to look at you. Sonka, do you see? A buyer!
SONKA.
I don't see anything. I can't see.
_Anathema lifts his hatband bows to all kindly._
ANATHEMA.
Thank you. I will drink a glass of soda-water with pleasure, and perhaps even a glass of your noblemen's cider. But I should like to know where David Leizer's business place is.
SARAH.
_Surprised._
It is here. Do you want David? I am his wife, Sarah.
ANATHEMA.
Yes, madam Leizer, I want to see David, David Leizer.
SARAH.
_Suspiciously._
You have come with bad news: David has no friends that wear clothes of such fine cloth as you wear. If that is so, you had better go away. David is not here, and I will not tell you where he is.
ANATHEMA.
_Heartily._
Oh, no, madam, don't be uneasy; I am not bringing you any bad news. But how pleasant it is to see such love.--Do you love your husband very much, madam Leizer? He must be a very strong and healthy man, earning much money.
SARAH.
_Frowning._
No, he is sick and old and unable to work. But he has not sinned against God or man in any way, and even his enemies dare not say anything bad about him. Here is some seltzer, sir, it is better than soda. And if you are not afraid of the heat, I would ask you to sit down and wait a while; David will soon be here.
ANATHEMA.
_Sitting down._
Yes, I have heard many good things about your husband, but I did not know that he was so feeble and old. Have you any children, madam Leizer?
SARAH.
We had six, but the first four died....
ANATHEMA.
_Nods his head compassionately._
SARAH.
Yes, we lived miserably, sir. And we have only two left. Our son Naum....
BEZKRAINY.
A good-for-nothing, who makes believe that he is sick and saunters about the city all day long.
SARAH.
Stop, Ivan, aren't you ashamed to slander honest people? Naum is going around because he has to get credit. Then, sir, we have a daughter, and her name is Rosa. But unfortunately she is too beautiful, too beautiful, sir. Happiness what is happiness? One person dies of smallpox, while another person needs smallpox, but it would not come, and the face is as pure as a flower leaf.
ANATHEMA.
_Feigning amazement._
Why are you so sorry about it? Beauty is a gift from God, which He has bestowed upon man, whom he has thus elevated and brought nearer to Himself.
SARAH.
Who knows? It may be a gift from God, and it may be a gift from somebody else of whom I would not speak. But there is one thing I do not know; why has a man beautiful eyes, if he must hide them? Why has he a white face, if he must cover it with soot and filth? Beauty is a too dangerous treasure, for it is easier to hide money from a robber, than beauty from a wicked man. (_Suspiciously._) Did you come perhaps to see Rosa? Then you better go away,--Rosa is not here, and I will not tell you where she is.
PURIKES.
A buyer. Sarah, look, a buyer is here.
SARAH.
Yes, yes, Purikes. But he will not buy that which he has come for, and he will not find that which he is seeking.
_Anathema smiles good-naturedly and listens attentively to the conversation; every time some one begins to speak, he stretches his neck and turns his head to the speaker, holding it slightly bent on one side. He makes grimaces like an actor, expressing now amazement, now sorrow or indignation. He laughs, inappropriately, thereby frightening and surprising the people._
BEZKRAINY.
Sarah, you are making a mistake in valuing your goods too highly and not selling when people are ready to buy. Every article loses its value if you keep it too long.
SARAH
_Tearfully._
What a wicked man you are, Ivan. I gave you credit for ten copecks, and you are forever slandering us.
BEZKRAINY.
Don't pay any attention to me, Sarah,--I am wicked because I am hungry. You, sir, in that black coat, go away: Sarah is an honest woman and she will not sell her daughter to you, even if you offered her a million.
SARAH.
_Hotly._
That's right, Ivan, thank you. But who told you, sir, that our Rosa is beautiful? It is not true--don't laugh, it isn't true, she is as ugly as deadly sin. She is as filthy as a dog that has just crawled out of the coal-hole of a ship; her face is furrowed by smallpox and it looks like a field where people dig lime and sand; there is on her right eye a cataract as large as on an old horse. Look at her hair--it is like faded wool, half torn away by birds; and when she walks, she stoops,--I swear to you, she stoops when she walks! If you take her, everybody will laugh at you, everybody will spit at you, the street urchins will give you no rest....
ANATHEMA.
_Surprised._
But, madam Leizer, I have heard--
SARAH.
_Sorrowfully._
You have heard nothing! I swear to you, you have heard nothing.
ANATHEMA.
But you yourself--
SARAH.
_Imploringly._
Have I said anything? My God, women are so talkative, sir; and they love their children so dearly that they always consider them beautiful. Rosa--beautiful! (_Laughs._) Just think of it, Purikes,--Rosa is beautiful!
_She laughs. Rosa comes over from the direction of the city. Her hair is disheveled, almost covering her black, flashing eyes; her face is smeared with something black, and she is dressed wretchedly. She walks with a youthful and stately gait, but on noticing the strange man, she stoops like an old woman._
SARAH.
Here, here is Rosa; look, sir! My God, how ugly she is. David cries every time he sees her.
ROSA.
_Offended, straightens herself._
There are uglier women than I am.
SARAH.
_Persuasively._
What are you saying, Rosa? There is no uglier girl than you in the whole world. (_Whispers entreatingly._) Hide your beauty, Rosa. A robber has come, Rosa,--hide your beauty! At night I will wash your face myself, I will comb your braids myself, and you will be as beautiful as a heavenly angel, and we will all pray to you. A robber has come, Rosa. (_Aloud._) Did they throw stones at you again?
ROSA.
_Hoarsely._
Yes, they did.
SARAH.
And the dogs attacked you, too?
ROSA.
Yes, they did.--
SARAH.
So you see, sir? Even the dogs!
ANATHEMA.
_In a friendly tone._
Yes, it seems that I have made a mistake. To my regret, your daughter is really not pretty and it is painful to look at her.
SARAH.
Of course, there are uglier girls than she is, but--Go, Rosochka, go over there, take your work--What is there for a poor and ugly girl to do but work? Go, my poor Rosochka, go.
_Rosa takes some rags to mend and disappears behind the counter. Silence._
ANATHEMA.
Is it long since you have this store, madam Leizer?
SARAH.
_Calmed down._
Thirty years already, ever since David became sick. A misfortune happened to him when he served in the army,--he was trampled by horses and they crushed his chest.
ANATHEMA.
Was David a soldier?
BEZKRAINY.
_Interposing._
David had an older brother, and he was a scoundrel, and his name was Moses.
SARAH.
_With a sigh._
And his name was Moses.
BEZKRAINY.
And when the time came for Moses to serve in the army, he ran off on an Italian steamer. And David was taken in his place.
SARAH.
_With a sigh._
David was taken.
ANATHEMA.
What injustice!
BEZKRAINY.
Have you ever met justice in the world?
ANATHEMA.
Of course I have. You are no doubt an unfortunate man, and everything appears to you in dark colors. But you will see, you will soon see, that justice does exist. (_Freely._) The devil take it, I have nothing to do, so I always roam about the world, and I have not seen anything so plentiful as justice. How shall I say it, madam Leizer? There is more justice on earth than fleas on a good dog.
SARAH.
_Smiling._
But what if it is just as hard to catch justice as to catch fleas....
BEZKRAINY.
And what if it bites just as the fleas do?
_All laugh. From the side of the city appears an organ-grinder, exhausted, half-blinded from dust and perspiration. He wants to pass by, but suddenly he pauses in despair, and begins to play a terrible tune._
SARAH.
Pass on, please, pass on. We need no music.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Playing._
Neither do I need it.
SARAH.
We have nothing to give you. Pass on.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Playing._
Then I will die to the strains of music.
ANATHEMA.
_Generously._
Please, madam Leizer, give him something to eat and water--I will pay for everything.
SARAH.
What a kind-hearted man you are. Go, musician, eat and drink. But for the water I will not take anything from you--let the water be mine.
_The organ-grinder sits down and eats ravenously._
ANATHEMA.
_Friendly._
Is it long you have been roaming over the world, musician?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Morosely,_
I used to have a monkey before--music and a monkey. The monkey was eaten up by the fleas, and my music box started to screech, and I am looking for a tree on which to hang myself. That is all.
_A little girl runs in. She looks curiously at the organ-grinder, then turns to Sonka._
LITTLE GIRL.
Sonka, Ruzya died.
SONKA.
Already?
LITTLE GIRL.
Yes, he died. May I take some seeds?
SONKA.
_Closing her store._
You may. Sarah, if a customer comes, tell him that I will attend to business to-morrow again, otherwise he may think that my store is closed for good. Have you heard it? Ruzya died.
SARAH.
Already?
LITTLE GIRL.
Yes, he died. Is the musician going to play?
_Anathema whispers to Sarah and puts something into her hand._
SARAH.
Sonka, here is a rouble for you; you see, a rouble?
BEZKRAINY.
There is luck! Yesterday a chicken, to-day a rouble. Take it, Sonka.
_All look greedily upon the rouble. Sonka and the little girl go out._
SARAH.
You are very rich, sir.
ANATHEMA.
_With self-satisfaction._
Yes. I have a large practice--I am a lawyer.
SARAH.
_Quickly._
David has no debts.
ANATHEMA.
Oh, I haven't come for that at all, madam Leizer. When you know me better, you will see that I bring, but do not take, that I make gifts, but do not take them back.
SARAH.
_With fear._
Do you come from God?
ANATHEMA.
It would be too much honor for me and for you, madam Leizer, if I came from God. No, I have come of my own accord.
_Naum comes over, looks at the customer with amazement, and sits down, exhausted, upon a rock. Naum is a tall, thin young man, with a narrow chest and a large, pale nose. He looks around on all sides._
NAUM.
Where is Rosa?
SARAH.
_In a whisper._
Not so loud,--she is there. (_Aloud._) Well, hew was it, Naum? Did you get any credit?
NAUM.
_Slowly._
No, mother, I did not get any credit. I am beginning to die, mother,--everybody feels hot, while I am very cold; and I am perspiring, but my perspiration is cold. I met Sonka--Ruzya died already.
SARAH.
You will live yet, Naum, you will live yet.
NAUM.
_Slowly._
Yes, I will live yet. Why isn't father coming? It is time for him to be here.
SARAH.
Clean a herring, Rosa. This gentleman is waiting for David a long time already, and David isn't here.
NAUM.
What does he want?
SARAH.
I don't know, Naum. Since he came, I suppose it was necessary.
_Silence._
NAUM.
Mother, I am not going for credit any more. I will go with father to the sea. The time has come when I must go and ask God about my fate.
SARAH.
Do not ask Him, Naum, do not ask.
NAUM.
I will ask Him.
SARAH.
_Entreatingly._
Don't do it, Naum, don't ask.
ANATHEMA.
Why not, madam Leizer? Do you fear that God will give him a bad answer? You should have more faith, madam Leizer. If David heard you, he would not approve your words.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
_Raising his head._
Is it you, young man, who wants to speak to God?
NAUM.
Yes, it is I. Every man can speak with God.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Do you think so? Then ask for a new organ. Tell Him that this one is screeching.
ANATHEMA.
_Compassionately._
He might add that the monkey was eaten up by the fleas--that he needs a new monkey.
_He laughs. All look at him in perplexity; the organ-grinder rises and takes up his organ silently._
SARAH.
What do you want to do, musician?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I want to play.
SARAH.
What for? We don't need any music.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I must thank you for your kindness.
_He plays something weird: the organ screeches, breaks off, wheezes. Anathema, with eyes lifted dreamily to the sky, keeps time with his hand, and whistles._
SARAH.
My God, how badly it sounds.
ANATHEMA.
This, madam Leizer (_whistles_),--this is called the world harmony.
_The conversation dies away for some time: only the screeching of the organ and the whistling of Anathema are heard. The sun is still shining mercilessly._
ANATHEMA.
I have nothing to do, so I wander over the world.
_He is carried away by the playing of the organ. Suddenly the organ breaks off with a screech, which rings in the ears for a long time, and Anathema remains as petrified with uplifted hand._
ANATHEMA.
_Perplexedly._
Does it always end like this?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Sometimes even worse. Good-by.
ANATHEMA.
_Feeling his vest pocket._
No, no, you mustn't go away like that.... You have afforded us genuine pleasure, and I do not want you to hang yourself. Here is some change for you, and live on.
SARAH.
_Pleasantly surprised._
Who could ever think, by looking at your face, that you are such a cheerful and kind-hearted man?
ANATHEMA.
_Flattered._
Oh, do not embarrass me with your praise, madam Leizer. Why shouldn't I help a poor man who would otherwise hang himself! The life of man is a precious thing, madam Leizer,--and I always carry change with me.... But isn't that venerable man I see there David Leizer?
_He looks in the direction where the road turns to the right._
SARAH.
_Also looking at the road._
Yes, that is David.
_All wait silently. On the dust-covered road appears David Leizer, walking slowly. He is tall, bony, with long, grey locks and a grey beard; on his head he wears a high, black cap; in his hand a staff with which he seems to measure the road. He looks down from under his heavy eyebrows; and thus, without lifting his eyes, he advances slowly and seriously to the people, and stops, leaning upon the staff with both hands._
SARAH.
_Rising respectfully._
Where were you, David?
DAVID.
_Not lifting his eyes._
I was by the sea.
SARAH.
What did you do there, David?
DAVID.
I looked at the waves, Sarah, and asked them whence they came and whither they were going. I was thinking of life, Sarah--whence it came and whither it is going....
SARAH.
What did the waves tell you, David?
DAVID.
They did not tell me anything, Sarah.... They come and go away again, and the man by the sea is waiting in vain for an answer from the sea.
SARAH.
With whom did you speak, David?
DAVID.
I spoke with God, Sarah. I asked Him about the fate of David Leizer, the poor Jew who is going to die soon.
SARAH.
_With emotion._
And what did God tell you?
_David is silent, his eyes lowered._
SARAH.
Our son Naum also wants to go with you to the sea and ask about his fate.
DAVID.
_Lifting his eyes._
Is Naum going to die soon?
NAUM.
Yes, father,--I have already commenced to die.
ANATHEMA.
But, pardon me, gentlemen.... Why should you speak of death, since I have brought you life and happiness?
DAVID.
_Turning his head to him._
Do you come from God? Sarah, who is he who dares to speak like this?
SARAH.
I don't know. He has been waiting for you a long time.
ANATHEMA.
_Bustling about joyously._
Oh, ladies and gentlemen, smile. Attention for one minute and I will make you all laugh. Attention, gentlemen. Attention!
_All look with tense attention at Anathema's mouth._
ANATHEMA.
_Taking out a paper, solemnly._
Are you not David Leizer, the son of Abraham Leizer?
LEIZER.
_Frightened._
Well, yes, I am. But there may be another David Leizer. I don't know--ask the people.
ANATHEMA.
_Interrupting him with a gesture._
Didn't you have a brother, Moses Leizer, who fled to America thirty-five years ago on the Italian steamship _Fortuna?_
ALL.
Yes, he did.
DAVID.
But I did not know that he was in America.
ANATHEMA.
David Leizer, your brother Moses died!
_Silence._
DAVID.
I have long forgiven him.
ANATHEMA.
And before he died he bequeathed all his fortune, amounting to two million dollars (_to the people surrounding him_), which means four million roubles,--to you, David Leizer.
_A deep sigh goes through the crowd and all seem as petrified._
ANATHEMA.
_Outstretching the paper._
Here is the document, you see--the seal.
DAVID.
_Pushing the paper aside._
No, don't! Don't do that! You were not sent by God. God would not make sport of man in this way.
ANATHEMA.
_Heartily._
This is not a jest. Upon my honor, it is the truth,--four millions. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you and to shake your honest hand warmly. (_Takes David Leizer's hand and shakes it._) Well, madam Leizer, what have I brought you? And what will you say now? Is your daughter Rosa beautiful now or is she ugly? Aha! Are you going to die so soon, Naum? Aha! (_Tearfully_.) That's what I have brought you, people, and now permit me to step aside--and not to disturb you--
_Lifts a handkerchief to his eyes and steps aside, apparently agitated._
SARAH.
_Wildly._
Rosa!
ROSA.
_Also wildly._
What is it, mamma?
SARAH.
Wash your face! Wash your face, Rosa! My God, quicker, quicker,--wash your face!
_As though insane, she drags Rosa, washes her, splashing the water with trembling hands. Naum clings to his father's arm, hanging on to it, as though he is about to lose consciousness._
DAVID.
Take back your paper! (_Firmly._) Take back your paper!
SARAH.
Have you lost your mind, David? Don't listen to him. Wash yourself, Rosochka, wash yourself! Let all the people see your beauty!
NAUM.
_Seizing the paper._
It is ours, father. Father,--this is how God has answered you. Look at mother, look at Rosa--look at me: I was already commencing to die.
PURIKES.
_Shouts._
Ai, Ai, look out, they'll tear the paper. Ai, Ai, take away the paper from them, quick!
_Naum cries, Rosa, radiantly beautiful, her hair wet, but no longer covering her eyes, comes over to her father, laughing._
ROSA.
It is I, father! It is I! It is--I!
SARAH.
_Wildly._
Where were you, Rosa?
ROSA.
I wasn't--I've just been born, mamma!
SARAH.
See, David, see--a human being has just been born! Oh, look at her, every one of you! Oh, open the doors of your vision, throw open the gates of your eyes--look at her, every one of you!
_Suddenly David realizes the meaning of what has happened. He throws his cap from his head, tears his clothing, which seems to suffocate him, and pushing everybody aside, rushes to Anathema._
DAVID.
_Sternly._
Why have you brought this?
ANATHEMA.
_Meekly._
But, pardon me, Mr. Leizer, I am only a lawyer. I am sincerely glad.
DAVID.
Why have you brought this?
_He pushes Anathema aside, and reeling, goes to the road. Suddenly he stops, turns around and shouts, flourishing his hands._
DAVID.
I Drive him away--that is the Devil. Do you think he brought me four million roubles? No, he brought me four million insults. Four million mockeries he hurled upon the head of David ... Four oceans of bitter tears have I shed over life, my sighs were four winds of the earth, my four children were devoured by hunger and diseases--and now, when I must die, he brings me four millions. Will they return to me my youth which I passed in privation, oppressed with grief, wrapped with sorrows, crowned with anguish? Will they repay me for one day of my starvation, one tear that fell upon a rock, one insult hurled at my face? Four million curses--that's what your four million roubles are--oh, Hannah, oh, Benjamin, and Raphael, and my little Moishe,--you, my little birdies, who died of hunger upon the naked branches of winter--what will you say if your father should touch this money? No, I don't need any money. I am telling you--I, an old Jew, dying of hunger. I don't need any money. I don't see God in this. But I shall go to Him, I shall tell Him: What are you doing with David?--I am going.
_Goes away, brandishing his hands._
SARAH.
_Crying._
David, come back, come back.
PURIKES.
_In despair._
The paper, pick up the paper.
ANATHEMA.
_Turns around._
Calm yourself, madam Leizer, he will come back. It is always thus at first. I have wandered a great deal over the world and I know it. The blood rushes to the head, the feet begin to quiver, and man curses. That's nonsense!
ROSA.
What a crooked mirror, mother!
NAUM.
_Cries._
Mamma, where is father going? I want to live.
ANATHEMA.
Throw away that piece of glass, Rosa. Mankind will reflect your beauty, the world will reflect your beauty--you will see yourself in the world.... Ah, you are still here, musician. Play something for us, please. Such a holiday must not pass without music!
ORGAN-GRINDER.
Shall I play the same?
ANATHEMA.
The same.
_The organ wails and wheezes. Anathema whistles furiously, waving his hands, as though blessing everybody with the music and the whistling._
CURTAIN.