Anathema: A Tragedy in Seven Scenes
ACT THREE
_The same dust-covered road, with the bent posts and the old, deserted sentinel-box; the same little shops. The sun is burning as mercilessly as when Anathema first appeared there._
_A large number of poor people are gathered there to welcome David Leizer, who had distributed his fortune among the poor. The air is rent by shouting, motion, and merry bustling. Purikes, Bezkrainy, and Sonka, happy now, and proud of their shops, are doing a brisk business in soda-water and candies. Sarah Leizer is sitting as before near her little shop, dressed neatly but poorly._
_A solemn welcome is arranged for David and Anathema, who had gone to the seashore. All the little shops, even the posts and the deserted sentinel-box, are decorated with parti-colored rags and with branches of trees; on the right side of the road, upon the scorched grass, an orchestra is preparing to meet David--several Jews with various instruments, among which there are: a good violin, cymbals, a broken brass trumpet, and even a drum, slightly broken. The members of the orchestra are scolding one another criticizing each other's instruments._
_There are a number of children in the crowd. Also, little babes in arms. Abraham Khessin and those who were in line when David started to distribute his money are there; a little distance away from the crowd stands the stern organ-grinder, with his organ._
YOUNG JEW.
_Blowing his crushed trumpet._
But why does it play only on one side? Such a good trumpet.
VIOLINIST.
_Agitated._
What do you want to do with me? How can you welcome David Leizer with such a trumpet? You might as well have brought along a cat and pulled her by the tail, and think that David would call you his son?
YOUNG JEW.
_Obstinately._
It's a good trumpet. My father played it when he was in the army, and everybody was thankful to him.
VIOLINIST.
Your father played it, but who sat upon it? Why is it so crushed? How can you welcome David Leizer with such a crushed trumpet?
YOUNG JEW.
_With tears._
It's a very good trumpet.
VIOLINIST.
_To a clean-shaven old man._
Is that your drum? Tell me, do you seriously believe that this is a drum? Have you ever seen another drum with a hole big enough for a dog to crawl through?
KHESSIN.
Don't get excited, Leibke. You are a very talented man, and your music will be fine, and David Leizer will be greatly moved by it.
VIOLINIST.
But I can't bear it. You are a very honorable man, Abraham Khessin, you have lived long in the world, but have you ever seen such a big hole in a drum?
KHESSIN.
No, Leibke, I haven't seen such a big hole, but that is not at all important. David Leizer was a multimillionaire, he had twenty million roubles, but he is unspoiled and humble, and your love will afford him joy. Does the soul need a drum to be able to express its love? I see here people who have neither drums nor trumpets, and who weep for happiness--their tears are noiseless like the dew.--Rise higher, Leibke, rise a little higher to the sky, and you will not hear any drums there, but therefore you will hear the tears falling.
OLD MAN.
You mustn't quarrel and darken the days of bright happiness,--that would be disagreeable to David.
_A Wanderer is listening to their conversation; his face is stern and swarthy. His hair and his clothes are covered with dust. He is guarded in his movements, but his eyes, lustreless, stare ahead fixedly, like open windows at night._
WANDERER.
He has brought peace and happiness on earth, and the whole world knows of him already. I have come from distant places, where the people are different from you, and where the customs are different from yours, and only in their suffering and their misery they are your brethren. And there they know already about David Leizer, who distributes bread and happiness, and they bless his name.
KHESSIN.
Do you hear, Sarah?
_Wiping his eyes._
It is of your husband they are speaking, of David Leizer.
SARAH.
I hear, Abraham, I hear everything. But I hear no longer the voice of Naum who died; I hear no longer the voice of Rosa. Old man, you have wandered much over the world, and you know even the people that do not resemble us,--have you not met on the road a beautiful girl, the most beautiful of all girls on earth?
BEZKRAINY.
She had a daughter, Rosa, a beautiful girl, she ran away from home because she would not give up her share to the poor. Did she take much money along with her, Sarah?
SARAH.
Can there be such a thing as too much money for Rosa? You may as well say that there are too many diamonds in the Czar's crown and too many rays in the sun.
WANDERER.
No, I have not seen your daughter: I am traveling along the highways, and there you can see neither the rich nor the beautiful.
SARAH.
But perhaps you have seen people gathered, talking enthusiastically about a certain beautiful girl? That is my daughter, old man.
WANDERER.
No, I have not seen such people. But I have seen other people gathered, speaking about David Leizer, who is distributing bread and happiness. Is it true that your David has healed a woman who was suffering from an incurable disease and was already dying?
KHESSIN.
_Smiling._
No, that is not true.
WANDERER.
Is it true that David restored sight to a man who was blind from the day of his birth?
KHESSIN.
_Shaking his head._
No, that is not true. Some one has been deceiving the people who do not resemble us. Only God can perform miracles--David Leizer is only a kind-hearted and worthy man, such as all men who have not forgotten God should be.
PURIKES.
It is not true, Abraham Khessin. David is not an ordinary man, and he possesses a superhuman power. I know it.
_The crowd that surrounded them is eagerly listening to Purikes._
PURIKES.
I saw with my own eyes, how the one we regarded as a customer came upon the deserted, sunny road, but he was not a customer. I saw with my own eyes how he touched David with his hand, and David started to speak so terribly that I could not listen to him. Do you remember it, Ivan?
BEZKRAINY.
That's true. David is not an ordinary man.
SONKA.
Does an ordinary man throw money at people, like stones at a dog? Does an ordinary man go to weep over the grave of another's child, whom he did not bring forth, whom he did not fondle, and whom he did not bury when death came?
WOMAN.
_With child in her arms._
David is not an ordinary man. Who ever saw an ordinary man who was more a mother to a child than his own mother? Who hides behind the bed-curtain and watches how other people's children are eating, and who weeps for joy at the sight of them? Of whom even the tiniest children are not afraid, and they play with his venerable beard as with the beard of their grandfather? Did not the stupid little Rubin tear out a tuft of grey hair from David Leizer's venerable beard? Did David grow angry? Did he cry out for pain, did he stamp his feet? No, he began to laugh as if overcome with happiness, and he cried as though for joy.
DRUNKARD.
David is not an ordinary man. He is a queer fellow. I said to him: "Why do you give me money? It is true, I am barefooted and unwashed, but do not think that I will buy boots and soap for the money you give me. I'll spend it on drink in the nearest dram-shop." That's what I had to tell him, for although I am a drunkard, I am an honest man. And the queer David answered me jestingly, like a good-natured lunatic: "Semyon, if it pleases you to drink, please drink,--I have not come to teach the people but to bring them joy."
OLD JEW.
There are many teachers, but there is none to bring them joy. May God bless David who brings joy to mankind.
BEZKRAINY.
_To the drunkard._
So you didn't buy any boots, did you?
DRUNKARD.
No, I am an honest man.
VIOLINIST.
_In despair._
Well, tell me all, you who have any conscience: Is this the kind of music that should greet him who brings joy to mankind? I am ashamed that I have gotten together such a poor orchestra, and I would rather die than disgrace myself before David.
SARAH.
_To the organ-grinder._
Will you also play? You have such a fine organ now that even angels might dance to your music.
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I will.
SARAH.
But why have you no monkey?
ORGAN-GRINDER.
I couldn't find a good monkey. All the monkeys I have seen are either old, or mean, or altogether untalented, and are even unable to catch fleas. The fleas have already destroyed one of my monkeys, and I don't want another monkey destroyed that way. A monkey needs talent, just like a man,--it isn't enough to have a tail, even to be a monkey.
_The wanderer is questioning Khessin in a low voice._
WANDERER.
Tell me the truth, Jew: I was sent here by my people, and I walked many miles on my old legs, under the mercilessly scorching sun, for the purpose of learning the truth. Who is this David who brings joy to mankind. Let it be as you say that he does not heal the sick....
KHESSIN.
It is a sin and an offence against God to think that a human being can heal.
WANDERER.
Be it so. But is it not true that Leizer wants to build an enormous palace of white stone and blue glass and gather together all the poor of the world there?
KHESSIN.
_In embarrassment._
I do not know. Is it possible to build such a large palace?
WANDERER.
_With conviction._
It is possible. Is it true that he wants to take away the power from the rich and bestow it upon the poor? (_In a whisper._) And to take the power from those who rule, the might from those who are in command, and distribute it among all the people on earth, giving an equal share to each of them?
KHESSIN.
I do not know
_Timidly._
You frighten me, old man.
WANDERER.
_Looking around cautiously._
And is it true that he has already sent heralds to the black people that they, too, shall prepare themselves to accept the new kingdom, for he wants to bestow the power equally upon the black as upon the white, giving to each one according to his desire.
(_In a mysterious whisper._)
In accordance with justice.
_On the road appears David Leizer, walking slowly; in his right hand, a staff; Anathema is holding his left arm reverently. There is agitation and confusion among the waiting crowd: the musicians rush for their instruments; the women pick up their children quickly. They shout: "He's coming! He's coming!" They call: "Moishe, Petya, Sarah!"_
WANDERER.
And is it true....
KHESSIN.
Ask him. Here he is coming.
_Noticing the crowd, Anathema stops David, who is absorbed in thought, and he points triumphantly to the people. Thus they stand for some time: David with his grey head thrown back, and Anathema clinging close to him. Anathema whispers something in David's ear and keeps on pointing with his left hand. Leibke, bustling about desperately, gets his orchestra together and they begin to play a lively wild tune which is as discordant as the fluttering parti-colored rags. Shouting, laughter, the children are rushing forward, some one is crying; many people are outstretching their hands prayerfully to David. Then David moves forward amidst this chaos of lively sounds. The crowd makes room for him to pass; many throw branches and twigs on the ground and spread their clothes before him; women tear of their head-dress and throw it at his feet on the dusty road. Thus he walks over to Sarah, who rises and welcomes him together with the other women. The music stops. But David is silent. Confusion._
KHESSIN.
Why are you silent, David? The people you have made happy are greeting you and spreading their clothing before you on the ground, for their love is great and their hearts cannot comprise all their joy. Say a word to them--they are waiting.
_David remains standing, with lowered eyes; with both hands he is leaning on his staff; his face is stern and serious. Anathema looks at him, over his shoulder, with alarm._
ANATHEMA.
They are waiting for you, David. Say unto them a word of joy and calm their love.
_David is silent._
WOMAN.
Why are you silent, David? You frighten us. Are you not the David who brings joy to mankind?
ANATHEMA.
_Impatiently._
Speak, David. Their agitated ears are waiting for a word of joy and by your silence, which is like the dumbness of the rock, you crush their soul to the earth. Speak!
DAVID.
_Lifting his eyes and surveying the crowd sternly._
Wherefore these honors and the noise of voices, and the music which plays so loudly? To whom do you render honors worthy of a prince or of one who has performed a great deed? Is it before me, before a poor old man who must die soon, that you spread out your clothes upon the ground? What have I done to deserve your delight and exultation, to force tears of senseless joy from your eyes? I gave you money and bread--but that was the money of the Uppermost, it came from Him and went back to Him through you. The only thing I have done was not to hide the money like a thief, I did not become a plunderer, like those who have forgotten God. Do I speak properly, Nullius?
ANATHEMA.
No, David, no. Your speech is not worthy of a wise man and it does not come forth from the lips of a humble man.
OLD MAN.
Bread without love is like grass without salt,--the stomach may be filled, but it leaves a bad taste in the mouth, and a bitter recollection.
DAVID.
Have I forgotten anything, Nullius? Remind me, my friend: I am old and my eyesight is poor, but do I not see musicians there, Nullius? Tell me! Do I not see flags as red as the tongues of crows over my head? Tell me, Nullius.
ANATHEMA.
You have forgotten the people, David. You do not see the children, David Leizer.
DAVID.
The children?
_The women, weeping, hold out their children to David._
VOICES.
"Bless my son, David!" ... "Touch my little girl with your hand, David." "Bless." ... "Touch her with your hand." ...
DAVID.
_Raising his hands heavenward._
Oh, Hannah, oh, Benjamin, oh, Raphael, and my little Moishe!...
_Looks down, outstretching his arms to the children._
DAVID.
Oh, my little birds who died on the naked branches of the winter!... Oh, children, my children, little children, tiny children!... Well, Nullius, am I not weeping? Am I not weeping, Nullius? Well, let everybody weep. Let the musicians play, Nullius--I understand everything now. Oh, children, little children, I gave you all, I gave you my old heart, I gave you my sorrow and my joy--Did I not give them all my soul, Nullius?
_Crying and laughing through tears._
You have again wrenched my soul from the jaws of sin, Nullius. On the day of rejoicing I appeared mournful before the people, on the day of the people's exultation I did not raise my eyes to Heaven, but lowered them to the ground,--bad old man that I am. Whom did I want to deceive with my insincerity? Do I not live by day and night in raptures of joy, and do I not draw love and happiness with full hands? Why have I feigned sadness?... I do not know your name, woman; give me your child, the one that is laughing when everybody is crying, because he alone is sensible.
_Smiling through tears._
Or are you perhaps afraid that I will steal it like a gypsy?
_The woman kneels and holds out her child._
WOMAN.
Take it, David! Everything belongs to you,--we and our children.
SECOND WOMAN.
Take mine, too, David!
THIRD WOMAN.
Mine, mine!
DAVID.
_Takes the child and presses it to his breast, covering it with his grey beard._
Hush!... It's my beard! Oh, what a terrible beard! But never fear, my little one, press to me more closely and laugh--you are the wisest of all. Sarah, my wife, come over here.
SARAH.
_Weeping._
I am here.
DAVID.
Let us step aside for a while. Woman, I will return the child to you, I will only hold it for a while.... Come, Sarah, let us step aside. Before you I am not ashamed to cry, be they tears of sorrow or tears of joy.
_They step aside and cry softly. Only their stooping backs are seen, and David's red handkerchief with which he wipes his eyes, and the tear-stained face of the child._
VOICES.
Hush! hush! They are crying. Don't disturb their crying. Hush! hush!
_Anathema, on tiptoe, whispers: "Hush, hush!" Then he goes over to the musicians and speaks to them in a low voice, conducting with his hand. Little by little the noise grows louder. Bezkrainy, Purikes, and Sonka are waiting, holding filled glasses in their hands._
DAVID.
_Returns and wipes his eyes with his kerchief._
Here is your child, woman. We don't like him at all, do we, Sarah?
SARAH.
_Weeping._
We have no children any longer, David.
DAVID.
_Smiling._
No, no, Sarah! But are not all the children in the world our children? He has no children who has three, six, or even twelve, but not he who knows not their number.
SONKA.
Drink a glass of soda-water, honorable David Leizer--it is your water.
PURIKES.
Drink a glass of mine, David,--this will bring me customers.
BEZKRAINY.
Drink a glass of noblemen's cider, David. Now it is real noblemen's cider. I can say it frankly; with your money everything is becoming real.
SARAH.
_Through tears._
I have always told you that your cider was bad, Ivan. And now, when it is real cider, you do not offer it to me.
BEZKRAINY.
Oh, Sarah....
DAVID.
She is jesting, Ivan. Thank you, but I cannot drink so much,--I will taste everybody's. It's very, very good water, Sonka. You have discovered the secret and you will soon grow rich.
SONKA.
I put a little more soda into the water, David.
WANDERER.
_To Anathema, in a law voice._
Is it true--you are a close friend of David Leizer's, and you can tell it to me--is it true that he wants to build--
ANATHEMA.
Why so loud? Let us step aside.
_They speak in a whisper. Anathema shakes his head negatively. He is truthful. He smiles and pats the old man on the shoulder. The old man evidently does not believe him. Then Anathema gradually leads the musicians away, also the Organ-grinder and the people beyond the stone pillars. Only the sound of their voices, their exclamations, their laughter are heard. A few remain and speak with David reverently._
KHESSIN.
Is it true, David, that you and Sarah are going to Jerusalem, to the Holy City, of which we can only dream?
DAVID.
Yes, it is true, Abraham. Although I am stronger now and I feel no longer any pain in my chest--
KHESSIN.
But that is a miracle, David!
DAVID.
Joy restores health, Abraham, and the serving of God strengthens a man. But after all, Sarah and I cannot live much longer, and we should like to rest our eyes upon the wonderful beauty of God's land. But why do you address me as a stranger, old friend? Have you not yet forgiven me?
KHESSIN.
_Frightened._
Oh, do not say that, David! If you were to tell me: Call me "thou" or kill yourself, I would rather kill myself, but would not say "thou" to you. You are not an ordinary man, David.
DAVID.
I am not an ordinary man. I am a happy man. But where is the gay man Nullius? I don't see him. I suppose he is preparing some prank or another--I know him. There is a man who does not darken the face of the earth with gloom, Abraham, who is never averse to laughter, which is to life like dew upon grass, and which sparkles in many colors in the rays of the sun. Of course he is playing his pranks; do you hear?
_Music is playing beyond the pillars; the organ, together with the orchestra, is playing the same tune it had played before. The sounds are discordant, somewhat wild, but strangely gay. Together with the music the crowd appears in a solemn procession. At the head of the procession, side by side with the Organ-grinder, walks Anathema, as if dancing. He carries the organ on a strap and turns the handle with one hand, keeping time with the other hand, whistling shrilly, and casting glances on all sides and skyward. The musicians and the poor, now gay, follow him. On passing David, Anathema bends his head toward him and keeps on playing and whistling. David, smiling, nods his head and adjusts his grey, long beard. The procession disappears._
SARAH.
_With emotion._
What beautiful music! How fine, how solemn, David! David, is all this for you?
DAVID.
For us, Sarah.
SARAH.
What am I? I can only love our children. But you, but you--
_With certain fear._
You are not an ordinary man, David.
DAVID.
_Smiling._
So, so.... Well, what am I, then,--a governor?
Or, perhaps, a general?
SARAH.
Do not make light of this, David. You are not an ordinary man.
_The Wanderer, who stood near by all the time and saw the solemn procession, now listens to Sarah's words and nods his head. Anathema, gay, somewhat out of breath, appears._
ANATHEMA.
How was it, David? I think it was not bad. They marched very well--better than I expected. Only that stupid trumpet.
_Dancing, he passes David again, whistling. Then he bursts into laughter._
DAVID.
_Good-naturedly._
Yes, Nullius. The music was very good. I never before heard such fine music. I thank you, Nullius,--you have afforded great pleasure to the people by your gayety.
ANATHEMA.
_To the Wanderer._
Did you like it, old man?
WANDERER.
I liked it fairly well. But what will happen when all the nations on earth will bend at the feet of David Leizer?
ANATHEMA.
_Astonished._
What is he saying, Nullius?
ANATHEMA.
Oh, David, it is very touching: the people are in love with you, even as a bride is in love with the bridegroom. This wonderful man, who has come thousands of miles--
WANDERER.
More.
ANATHEMA.
Asked me: "Does David Leizer perform miracles?" Well,... I laughed, I laughed.
KHESSIN.
He asked me, too, but to me it was not laughable. The ear of him who waits is keen,--even the stones seem to sing to him.
WANDERER.
Only the footsteps of the blind are short, but their thoughts are long.
_He steps aside and, watches David. It is near sunset and the earth is in the embrace of shadows. Abraham Khessin bids David farewell and goes away. The shopkeepers prepare to close their shops. Silence and peace._
ANATHEMA.
_Breathing with difficulty._
At last. We have worked quite hard, David--the trumpet alone (_closes his ears_)--what is that worth? (_Candidly_) My misfortune is that my ear is keen, unbearably sharp, almost--yes, almost like that of a dog. If I hear--
DAVID.
I am very tired, Nullius, and I want to rest. I do not feel like seeing any more people to-day, and you will not be offended, my old friend--
ANATHEMA.
I understand. I will only escort you to your palace.
DAVID.
Yes, yes, to my palace. According to my contract, I am king for six months more. Come, Sarah,--with you alone I want to pass the remainder of this great day in peace and joy.
SARAH.
You are not an ordinary man, David. How did you guess my desire?
_They go away towards the pillars. David pauses, looks back, and says, leaning upon Sarah's shoulder:_
DAVID.
Look, Sarah; this is the place where our life has passed--how sad and poor it is, Sarah, and it breathes of the homelessness of the desert. But was not it here, Sarah, that I learned the great truth concerning the fate of man? I was poor, alone, and near death, a foolish old man, seeking an answer from the waves. But now people have come--Am I alone now? Am I poor and near death? Listen to me, Nullius; there is no death for man. What death is there? What is death? Who was the mournful one that invented this strange word--Death?--Perhaps it does exist, I do not know--but I, Nullius--I am immortal.
_As though struck, he lends down, but lifts his arms upward._
Oh, how terrible it is: I am immortal! Where is the end of the sky? I have lost it. I am immortal! Oh, the breast of man aches from immortality, and his joy bums him like a fire. Where is the end of man?--I am immortal. Adenoi! Adenoi! Blessed be the mysterious name of Him who has given immortality to man, forever and aye.
ANATHEMA.
_Hastily._
The name! The name! Do you know the name? You have deceived me.
DAVID.
_Not listening to him._
I give the spirit of man over to the boundless space of Time. May it five immortally, in the immortality of fire. May it live immortally in the immortality of light, which is life. And may darkness stop before the dwelling of immortal light. I am happy, I am immortal--O my God!
ANATHEMA.
_Ecstatically._
It is a lie! Oh, how long yet will I listen to this foolish man? North and South, East and West, I am calling you. Quicker, come here, to the aid of the Devil! Rush over here in four oceans of tears and bury man in your abyss. Come here! This way!
_No one heeds Anathema's sobs, neither David, radiant with the ecstasy of immortality, nor Sarah, nor the other people, who listen attentively to David. Anathema moves restlessly about, alone, cursing. A shrill voice is heard; a woman, terribly painted, rushes in from the road. Her clothes are torn, and her beautiful face is disfigured. She screams and sobs and calls wildly._
WOMAN.
My God! Where is David, who is distributing his fortune? Two days and two nights, two days and two nights, I have been looking for him all over the city, but the houses are silent and the people are laughing. Tell me, kind people, have you not seen David, who brings joy to the people? Do not look upon my open bosom--a wicked man tore my clothes and scratched my face. Oh, do not look upon my open bosom: it never knew the happiness of feeding innocent lips.
WANDERER.
David is here.
WOMAN.
_Falling on her knees._
David is here? Oh, have pity on me, people! do not deceive me; I am blinded by deceit, and falsehoods have made me deaf. Do I hear right? Is David here?
BEZKRAINY.
Yes, there he stands. But you are too late--he has already distributed all his fortune.
PURINES.
He has already distributed all his fortune. WOMAN.
What are you doing to me, people? Two days and two nights I have been looking for him--the people deceived me, and now I am too late. I will die on the way now--I have nowhere else to go.
_Tearfully, flings herself about on the dust-covered road._
ANATHEMA.
It seems that somebody has come to you, David.
DAVID.
_Advancing._
What does this woman wish?
WOMAN.
_Without lifting her head._
Are you David, who has brought joy to mankind?
WANDERER.
Yes, it is he.
DAVID.
Yes, it is I.
WOMAN.
_Without lifting her head._
I do not dare glance at you. You must be like the sun.
_Gently and trustfully._
Oh, David, how long I have been looking for you!... The people kept deceiving me all the time. They told me that you went away, that you do not exist at all, and that you never existed. One man said to me that he was David, and he seemed to be kind, but he treated me like a robber.
DAVID.
Rise!
WOMAN.
Permit me to rest here, at your feet. Like a bird that has crossed the sea, I am beaten by the rain, I am exhausted by the storms, I am tired to death.
_Weeps; continues trustfully._
Now I am calm, now I am happy: I am at the feet of David, who has brought joy to mankind.
DAVID.
_Irresolutely._
But you have come too late, woman. I have already given away everything I had, and I have nothing left.
ANATHEMA.
Yes. We have distributed all the money. Go home, woman,--we have nothing left. We feel sorry for you, but you are too late. Do you understand? You are too late,--only this morning we gave away the last penny.
DAVID.
Don't be so cruel, Nullius.
ANATHEMA.
But it is the truth, David.
WOMAN.
_Doubtingly._
That is impossible!
_Lifting her eyes._
Are you David? How kind-hearted you are. Did you say that I am too late? No, he said it--his face is mean. David, please give me some money and save me. I am tired to death. And your name is Sarah? You are his wife? I have heard about you, too.
_Crawls over to her and kisses her dress._
WOMAN.
Plead for me, Sarah.
SARAH.
_Weeping._
Give her some money, David. Get up, my dear; it is very dusty here--you have such beautiful black hair. Sit down here, and rest yourself. David will soon give you money.
_Lifts the woman and seats her near herself upon a rock, and caresses her._
DAVID.
What shall I do?
_Confusedly; wiping his face with a red kerchief._
What shall I do, Nullius? You are such a wise man,--help me.
ANATHEMA.
_Outstretching his arms._
By God, I do not know. Here is the list--we have not a cent, and I am an honest lawyer, not a counterfeiter. I can't bring you every day an inheritance from America.
_Whistles._
I have nothing to do, so I roam about the world.
DAVID.
_Indignantly._
That is cruel, Nullius. I did not expect it from you. But what shall I do? what shall I do?
_Anathema shrugs his shoulders._
SARAH.
Sit here, my dear; I will come back soon. David, let us step aside; I must tell you something.
_They step aside and whisper._
ANATHEMA.
Did they beat you hard, woman? Evidently the man who was beating you was not skillful--he did not knock your eyes out, as he wanted to do.
WOMAN.
_Covering her face with her hair._
Do not look upon me!
SARAH.
Nullius, come over here.
ANATHEMA.
_Goes to her._
Here I am, madam Leizer.
DAVID.
_In a low voice._
How much money have we for our journey to Jerusalem?
ANATHEMA.
Three hundred roubles.
DAVID.
Give it to the woman.
_Smiling and crying._
Sarah does not want to go to Jerusalem. She wants to continue in business here until death comes. What a foolish woman, Nullius, isn't she?
_Cries restrainedly._
SARAH.
Does that cause you much pain, David? Were you so eager to go?
DAVID.
What a foolish woman, Nullius. She does not understand that I also want to remain in business here.
_Cries._
ANATHEMA.
_Moved._
You are not an ordinary man, David.
DAVID.
It was my dream, Nullius, to die in the Holy City and to join my dust to the dust of the righteous people buried there. But (_he smiles_) is not the ground everywhere kind to its dead? Give the money to the poor woman. Well, Sarah, how shall it be? We must open a store and learn from Sonka how to make good soda-water.
ANATHEMA.
_Triumphantly._
Woman, David, who has brought joy to mankind, gives you money and happiness.
BEZKRAINY.
_To Sonka._
I told you that he has not distributed all his money. He has millions.
WANDERER.
_Listening._
That's right. How could David give away everything? He only started to give away.
_The woman thanks David and Sarah; he places his hands upon her head, as though blessing her. Behind him, from the side of the field, something grey appears, dust-covered, moving slowly. They move silently, and it is hard to discern at first that they are human beings. The grey dust has equalized them--their distress and their suffering have made them brethren. There is something alarming in their dull, inflexible movement--and the people look upon them uneasily._
BEZKRAINY.
Who is coming there on the road?
SONKA.
Something grey is crawling along the road. If they are human beings, they do not look like human beings.
PURIKES.
Oh, I am afraid for David. He stands with his back toward them, and does not see them. And they are coming like blind people.
SONKA.
They will soon crush him. David, David, turn around and look.
ANATHEMA.
It is too late, Sonka,--David can't hear you now.
PURIKES.
But who is that? I am afraid of them.
WANDERER.
These are our people! These are blind people from our land,--they have come to David for their eyesight.
_Loudly._
Stop, stop! you have reached your destination. David is in your midst.
_The blind, almost crushing the frightened David, pause and seek him with their fingers._
THE BLIND.
Where is David? Help us to find David. Where is David, who brings joy to mankind? He is here. I feel him already with my fingers. Are you David? Where is David? Where is David? Are you David?
DAVID.
_Frightened voices come out of the darkness._
It is I--I am David Leizer. What is it you wish of me?
SARAH.
_Weeping._
David! David!
I don't see you.
David, David, where are you?
THE BLIND.
_Closing in around him._
Here is David. Are you David?
CURTAIN.