ACT FOUR

_A large, high, somewhat dark room--David's study in the rich villa where he spends his last days. Two large windows in the room: one overlooking the road to the city; the other, on the left, overlooking the garden. Near this window, a large writing-table, covered with papers in disorder--sheets of paper of various sizes, and large books. Under the table, and near it, paper torn into small bits. A large Bible, bound in old leather, lies on the floor, open, with its back upward, resembling the roof of a house which is falling apart. Notwithstanding the heal, there is a fire in the fireplace. David Leizer feels cold and feverish._

_It is growing dark. Through the lowered blinds, faint sunlight comes in, but it is already dark in the room. Only the small lamp on the table brings out into bold relief the white heads of David and Anathema._

_David is sitting by the table. His hair and beard, unkempt for some time, lend him a savage and terrible appearance; his face is emaciated, his eyes are wide open; clasping his head with both hands, he stares fixedly through his large spectacles, examines a paper, throws it aside, takes up another paper, and nervously turns the leaves of a heavy volume._

_Anathema stands near him, holding the back of his arm-chair. He is motionless, thoughtful, and stern._

_The windows are closed, but through the dosed windows comes the muffled noise of many voices. It increases slowly, wavering in force and impassionateness. Those who had been called by David are now besieging his house. Silence._

DAVID.

It has crumbled away into dust; Nullius! The mountain that reached the sky has split into rocks, the rocks have turned into dust, and the wind has carried the dust away. Where is the mountain, Nullius? Where are the millions which you brought me? Here I have been looking for an hour through my papers for one copeck, only one copeck, that I may give it to him who asks for it, but I cannot find it. What is lying around there?

ANATHEMA.

The Bible.

DAVID.

No, no, I mean there, among the papers. Let me have it. I think it is an account I haven't examined yet. That would be good luck, Nullius!

_Stares intently._

No, it is all crossed out here. Look, Nullius, look! A hundred, then fifty, then twenty,--and then one copeck. But I cannot take this copeck away from him, can I?

ANATHEMA.

Six, eight, twenty,--correct.

DAVID.

No, no, Nullius,--one hundred, fifty--twenty,--one copeck. It has all melted away, it slipped through my fingers like water. And the fingers are dry already--and I feel cold, Nullius!

ANATHEMA.

It is warm here.

DAVID.

I say it is cold here, Nullius. Throw some logs of wood into the fireplace.... No, wait. How much does a log cost? Oh, it costs a great deal; put it away, Nullius,--this accursed fire is devouring wood so quickly, as though it did not know that every log of wood is--a life. Wait, Nullius.... You have a splendid memory, you never forget anything, like a book--don't you remember how much I designated for Abraham Khessin?

ANATHEMA.

At first, five hundred.

DAVID.

Yes, yes, Nullius, of course,--he is an old friend of mine; we used to play together. And for a friend five hundred is not much at all. Of course, he is an old friend of mine, and I must have pitied him and left to him more than to the others in the end--for our friendship is such a tender feeling, Nullius. But it is bad if a man wrongs strangers and distant people on account of a friend--for they have no friends or protection. And we will cut down Abraham Khessin's allowance, we will cut it down just a little bit....

_With fear._

Tell me, how much have I now allowed for Abraham?

ANATHEMA.

One copeck.

DAVID.

Impossible! Tell me that you have made an error! Have pity on me, and tell me that you have made an error, Nullius! It cannot be--Abraham is my friend--we used to play together. Do you understand what it means when children play together, and then they grow up and they have grey beards, and they smile together at the past? You have also a grey beard, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

Yes, my beard is grey. You allowed one copeck for Khessin.

DAVID.

_Takes Anathema by the arm; in a whisper._

But she said that her child would die, Nullius,--that he is dying already. Understand me, my old friend, I must have money. You are such a fine man, you are (_pats his arm_) such a kind man, you remember everything, like a book,--search a little more.

ANATHEMA.

Bethink yourself, David; your reason is betraying you. It is already two days that you have been sitting here at this table, looking for that which is no more. Go out to the people who are waiting for you, tell them that you have nothing left, and dismiss them.

_Angrily._

DAVID.

But did I not go out ten times already to the people and did I not tell them that I have nothing left? Did a single one of them go away? They stand and wait there, and they are firm in their misery, like a rock, obstinate like the child at the mother's breast. Does a child ask whether there is milk in the mother's breast? When I speak, they are silent and they listen to me like reasonable people; but when I become silent, the spirit of despair and want seizes upon them and wails in a thousand voices. Did I not give everything away to them, Nullius? Did I not cry out all my tears? Did I not give them away all the blood of my heart? What are they waiting for, Nullius? What do they want of the poor Jew, who has already exhausted his life?...

ANATHEMA.

They are waiting for a miracle, David.

DAVID.

_Rising, with fear._

Be silent, Nullius, be silent,--you are tempting God. Who am I that I should perform miracles? Bethink yourself, Nullius. Can I make two copecks of one? Can I come over to the mountains and say: "Mountains of the earth, turn into mountains of bread and satisfy the hunger of the hungry"? Can I come over to the ocean and say: "Sea of water as salty as tears, turn into a sea of milk and honey and quench the thirst of the thirsty"? Think of it, Nullius!

ANATHEMA.

Did you see the blind?

DAVID.

Only once did I dare lift my eyes,--but I saw strange, grey people, into whose eyes some one had spat something white, and they feel the air as if it were a danger, and they fear the earth as though it were a horror. What do they want, Nullius?

ANATHEMA.

Did you see the sick and the maimed, with organs of the body missing,--did you see them crawl on the ground? Out of the pores of the earth they come like a perspiration of blood--the earth is of them.

DAVID.

Be silent, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

Did you see people who are devoured by their conscience: their face is dark, as though scorched by fire, and their eyes are surrounded with white rings, and they run about in a circle like mad horses? Did you see people who look straight ahead, and in their hands they hold long staffs for measuring the road? These are the people searching after truth.

DAVID.

I dared not look any further.

ANATHEMA.

Did you hear the voice of the earth, David?

_Enter Sarah; she advances to David timidly._

DAVID.

Is that you, Sarah? Shut the door tightly, do not leave a crevice behind you. What is it you wish, Sarah?

SARAH.

_With fear and faith._

Are you not entirely prepared yet, David? Make haste and go out to the people: they are tired of waiting and many of them fear death. Dismiss these, for others are coming, David, and soon there will be no place for a man to stand. The water has already given out in the fountains and they are not bringing any bread from the city, as you have ordered, David.

DAVID.

_Uplifting his hands; horrified._

Awaken, Sarah, sleep has enmeshed you in nets of cunning and your heart is poisoned with the madness of love. It is I, David!...

_With fear._

And I did not command to bring bread.

SARAH.

If you are not quite ready, David, they can wait. But order lamps lighted and give bedding for the women and the children,--for night will soon set in and the earth will grow cold. And order them to give milk to the children--they are starved. There, in the distance, we have heard the sound of innumerable footsteps: are those not herds of cows and goats, full of milk, driven here at your command?

DAVID.

_Hoarsely._

Oh, my God, my God!...

ANATHEMA.

_In a low voice, to Sarah._

Go away, Sarah: David is praying. Do not disturb his prayer.

_Sarah goes away timidly and cautiously._

DAVID.

Mercy! Mercy!

_The noise outside the windows subsides. Suddenly it is heard again: Sarah had notified them that they must wait._

DAVID.

Mercy! Mercy!

ANATHEMA.

_In a commanding tone._

David be a man in the face of the great fear. Did you not call them here? Did you not call loudly, in a voice of love, to the silence and the darkness where unspeakable horror dwells? And now they have come to you--North and South, East and West, and like four oceans of tears they have stretched themselves at your feet. Rise, David!

DAVID.

What shall I do, Nullius?

ANATHEMA.

Tell them the truth.

DAVID.

What shall I do, Nullius? Shall I perhaps take a rope and, hanging it upon a tree, strangle myself like the one who had once betrayed? Am I, perhaps, a traitor, having called them and not given anything to them, and loving them in order to destroy them? Oh, how my heart is aching!... Oh, how my heart is aching, Nullius! Oh, I feel as cold as the ground that is covered with ice, and within it there is heat and white flame. Oh, Nullius, have you seen the white flame on which the moon turns dark and the sun burns like yellow straw?

_He tosses about._

Hide me, Nullius. Is there not a dark room, where the light does not penetrate? are there not strong walls through which I would not hear these voices? Whither are they calling me? I am a sick old man, I cannot endure and suffer so long--I myself had small children, and did they not die? What were their names, Nullius? I have forgotten. Who is it they call David, the man who has brought joy to mankind?

ANATHEMA.

That was your name, David Leizer. You are deceived, Leizer. You are deceived even as I am deceived!

DAVID.

_With entreaty._

Protect me, Nullius. Go out to them and tell them aloud, so they all can hear: "David Leizer is a sick old man, and he has nothing left." They will listen to you, Nullius,--you have such a respectful appearance,--and they will return to their homes.

ANATHEMA.

Yes, yes, David. You see the truth already, and you will soon proclaim it to the people. Ha, ha! Who said that David Leizer could perform miracles?

DAVID.

_Folding his arms._

Yes, yes, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

Who dares demand miracles of Leizer? Is he not a sick old man,--mortal like all the rest?

DAVID.

Yes, yes, Nullius,--a man.

ANATHEMA.

Did not love deceive Leizer? It said to him: "I shall do everything,"--and it raised only dust on the road like the blind wind from behind a corner, which bursts in noisily and lies down quietly, which blinds the eyes and stirs up the dust. Let us go, then, to Him who gave love to David, and ask Him: "Wherefore did you deceive our brother David?"

DAVID.

Yes, yes, Nullius! Of what good is love to man if it is powerless? Of what good is life if there is no immortality?

ANATHEMA.

_Rapidly._

Go out and tell this to them,--they will listen to you. They will lift their voice to Heaven--and we shall hear the answer of Heaven, David! Tell them the truth and you will stir up the earth.

DAVID.

I am going, Nullius. And I will tell them the truth--I have never lied. Open the doors, Nullius.

_Anathema quickly throws the door open and respectfully allows David to pass to the balcony. David walks slowly, with an air of importance. Then Anathema closes the door behind David. The noise suddenly subsides, a deathlike silence sets in, and David's quivering voice is heard faintly. Anathema dances about the room in a fit of ecstasy._

ANATHEMA.

Ah! you would not listen to me,--now listen to them. Ah! you forced me to crawl on my belly like a dog. You would not permit me to glimpse even through a crevice!... You laughed at me in your silence!... You tortured me by your motionlessness. Listen, then, and answer, if you can. It is not the Devil who speaks to you, it is not the son of Dawn who raises his voice,--it is man, it is your favorite son, your care, your love, your tenderness, and your proud hope, that is wriggling under your foot like a worm. Well? You are silent? Lie to him by your thunder, deceive him with your lightning,--how dares he look into the heavens? Let him, like Anathema?

_Wailing._

The poor, offended Anathema, who is crawling on his belly like a dog....

_Furiously._

Let man crawl back again to his dark hole, let him decay in silence, bury himself in gloom, where unspeakable horror dwells.

_A myriad-voiced sound is heard from outside the windows._

ANATHEMA.

Do you hear?

_Sarcastically._

It is not I. It is they. Six, eight, twenty-correct. It is always correct with the Devil....

_The door opens and David, horror-stricken, runs in. A shout is heard behind him. David closes the door and holds it with his shoulder._

DAVID.

Help, Nullius! They will soon break in--the door is not strong; they will break it.

ANATHEMA.

What do they say?

DAVID.

They do not believe me, Nullius. They ask for a miracle. But do the dead also shout?--I saw the dead they have brought here.

ANATHEMA.

_Furiously._

Then lie to them, Jew!

_David goes away from, the door and says mysteriously, with confusion and fear:_

DAVID.

Do you know, Nullius, something is going on within me,--I have nothing,--but here I went out to them, I saw them and suddenly I felt that it is not true--I do have something. And I spoke, but I did not believe it myself; I spoke, and yet I felt that I stood with them and shouted against myself, and demanded angrily.... With my lips I declare that I have nothing,'and with my heart I promise them, and with my eyes I cry out, Yes, yes, yes! What shall I do, Nullius? Tell me, are you sure that I have nothing?

_Anathema smiles. Sarah's_, _voice is heard behind the door on the right; a knock at the door._

SARAH.

Let me in, David.

DAVID.

Do not open the door, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

It is your wife, Sarah.

_He opens the door. Sarah enters, leading by the hand a pale-faced woman who is carrying something in her arms._

SARAH.

_Meekly._

Forgive me, David. But this woman says that she cannot wait any more. She says that if you delay any longer, she will not recognize her child when he is revived. If it is necessary for you to know his name, it is Moishe, little Moishe. He is a dark little one,--I looked at him.

WOMAN.

_Falling down on her knees._

Forgive me, David, for breaking the line and not waiting for my turn. But there are those who died but a little while ago, while I am carrying him already three days and three nights on my breast. Perhaps it is necessary for you to take a look at him? Then I will uncover him--I am not deceiving you, David.

SARAH.

I have looked at him already, David. She let me hold him awhile. She is very tired, David.

_David retreats slowly, the palms of his hands outstretched forward. He moves thus until he reaches the wall._

DAVID.

Mercy! Mercy!

_Both women wait patiently._

DAVID.

What shall I do? I am fainting, O God! Nullius, tell them that I do not resurrect the dead!

WOMAN.

I implore you, David! Do I ask you to restore life to an old man who has lived long and who has deserved death for his evil deeds? Do I not understand whom it is possible to resurrect and whom it is not possible to resurrect? But perhaps it is hard for you because he is dead so long. I did not know this,--forgive me. And when he was dying, I promised him: "Moishe, do not be afraid to die--David, who brings joy to mankind, will restore your little life to you."

DAVID.

Show him to me.

_Looks at him, shaking his head, and weeps, wiping his eyes with his red kerchief. Sarah looks at him confidently, leaning on his shoulder._

SARAH.

How old was he?

WOMAN.

Two years, going on the third.

_David turns his tear-stained face to Anathema and says in a strange voice:_

DAVID.

Shall I make an attempt, perhaps, Nullius?

_Suddenly he bends down and cries hoarsely:_

Adenoi!... Adenoi!... Begone! Begone! The Devil has sent you here. Tell them, Nullius, that I do not resurrect the dead. They have come to mock me! Look, they are both laughing there. Begone! Begone!

ANATHEMA.

_In a low voice, to Sarah._

Go away, Sarah, and lead the woman away. David is not quite ready yet.

SARAH.

_In a whisper._

I will take her to my room. Later you may tell David that she is there.

_To the woman._

Come, woman,--David is not quite ready yet.

_They go out. David, exhausted, sits down in an arm-chair and lowers his grey head. He reads something softly._

ANATHEMA.

They have gone, David. Do you hear? They have gone away.

DAVID.

Nullius, did you see? It was a dead child. Moishe.... Yes, yes, Moishe, a dark little one; we looked at him.... (_Loudly, in despair._) What shall I do? Teach me, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

_Quickly._

Flee!

_Listens to what is going on outside the window, nods his head affirmatively, and advances to David cautiously, like a conspirator; David waits for him, with his arms folded as in prayer, a confident smile on his lips. His back is bent, and he frequently takes his red kerchief from his pocket, but does not know what to do with it._

ANATHEMA.

_In a whisper._

We must flee, David, flee!

DAVID.

_Joyously._

Yes, yes, Nullius,--we must flee.

ANATHEMA.

I shall hide you in a dark room which no one knows of; when they fall asleep, tired of waiting and hungry, I shall lead you through the sleeping people--and will save you.

DAVID.

_Joyously._

Yes, yes, save me.

ANATHEMA.

And they will be waiting! In their sleep they will, wait and dream dreams of great expectations--and you will not be here any longer!

DAVID.

_Nodding his head joyously._

And I shall not be here any longer, Nullius! And I shall have fled already, Nullius!

_Laughs._

ANATHEMA.

_Laughing._

And you will not be here any longer! You will have fled! Let them speak to Heaven then.

_They look at each other and laugh._

ANATHEMA.

_In a friendly tone._

Wait for me, David. I shall go out at once and see whether the house is still surrounded. They are such madmen!

DAVID.

Yes, yes, look. They are such madmen! Meanwhile I shall prepare myself, Nullius.... But I ask you, do not leave me here all alone for a long time.

_Anathema goes out. David goes cautiously on tiptoe to the window and wants to look out, but he dares not; he goes to the table and is frightened by the scattered sheets of paper; he moves cautiously to the corner where his clothes are. He dresses hastily, mixing up his clothes. For a long time he does not know what to do with his beard; suddenly he pushes it under his coat and hides it with his collar._

DAVID.

_Muttering._

Yes, yes. I must hide my beard. All the children know my beard.... But why did they not tear it out? Yes, yes, my beard.... But what a black coat! It does not matter, you will hide it. That's the way. Rosa had a mirror.... But Rosa ran away, and Naum also died, and Sarah--oh, but why does not Nullius come? Does he not hear how they are shouting?...

_A knock on the door._

DAVID.

_Frightened._

Who is there? David Leizer is not here.

ANATHEMA.

It is I, David; let me in.

_Anathema enters._

DAVID.

Well, Nullius,--it is possible to recognize me now, is it not?

ANATHEMA.

Very good, David. But I don't know how we can get out. Sarah has filled the house with guests: in every room the blind and the maimed are waiting for you with a pleasant smile; there are also dead people there, David. Your Sarah is a splendid woman, but she is too much of a hostess, David, and she intends to build up a fine household on miracles.

DAVID.

But she must not do it, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

Many people are already sleeping at your doors, smiling in their dreams,--self-confident, lucky people, who have managed to outstrip the others.... And in the garden and in the yard....

DAVID.

_With fear._

What is there in the yard?...

ANATHEMA.

Not so loud, David. Look and listen.

_He puts out the light in the room and draws aside the draperies; the windows are lit up with a red light; it is dark in the room, but David's head, and the paper on the floor, are tinted a pale crimson hue._

DAVID.

_Frightened, in a whisper._

Where does this fire come from, Nullius? I am afraid.

ANATHEMA.

_Also in a whisper._

'Tis a cold night, and they have started bonfires. Sarah told them that they would have to wait a long time yet, so they have taken precautions.

DAVID.

Where did they get the wood?

ANATHEMA.

They broke certain things. Sarah told them that you ordered them to start bonfires, and they are humbly burning whatever wood they find.... And there, David, farther away....

DAVID.

_In despair._

What is it, Nullius? What else can there be, there yonder?...

ANATHEMA.

I do not know, David. But from the upper window, which was wide open, I heard something like the roaring of the ocean when the rocks tremble with pain from the beating of the breakers; it was as though the roaring of brass trumpets that I heard, David,--they are shouting to the sky and to you, and they are calling you.... Do you hear?

_In the muffled noise and chaos of sounds, ring out the sounds: Da-vid! Da-vid! Da-vid!_

DAVID.

I hear my name. Who is calling? What do they want?

ANATHEMA.

I don't know. Perhaps they want to crown you as their king.

DAVID.

Me?

ANATHEMA.

You, David Leizer. Perhaps they are bringing you might and power--and the power of performing miracles--do you not want perhaps to become a God, David? Look and listen.

_He throws the windows wide open. The sounds of the voices calling "Da-vid, Da-vid, Da-vid!" grow louder and are mingled with the blowing of trumpets._

_David at first moves to the wall, then he slowly advances to the window. He straightens himself, looks out of the window, and pushing Anathema aside, outstretches his arms to the poor of the earth._

DAVID.

_Calling._

Come this way! Come here! To me! I am here! I am with you!

ANATHEMA.

_Astonished._

What? You are calling them? You--are--calling--them? Bethink yourself, Leizer!

DAVID.

_Angrily._

Be silent! you do not understand me! We are all human beings and we shall go together.

_Enthusiastically._

And we shall go together! Come here, brethren, come! Look, Nullius,--they have lifted their heads, they are looking, they hear me. This way! this way!

ANATHEMA.

Will you perform miracles?

DAVID.

_Angrily._

Be silent--you are a stranger. You speak as an enemy of God and mankind. You know neither pity nor compassion. We are tired, we are exhausted,--even the dead have grown tired of waiting. Come here--and we shall go together. This way!

ANATHEMA.

_Looking at David._

Are not the blind showing the way to them?

DAVID.

Who needs eyesight if not the blind? This way, blind!

ANATHEMA.

Are not the lame making the road and swallowing the dust there?

DAVID.

Who needs the road if not the lame? This way, maimed!

ANATHEMA.

Are they not carrying the dead on the stretchers, swaying with measured steps? Look, David, and dare to say: "Come this way, to me. I am he who resurrects the dead!"

DAVID.

_Tormented._

You know no love, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

"I am he who restores sight to the blind"--

_Loudly, through the window._

This way! Nations of the earth, seeking God,--come together, at the feet of David--he is here!

DAVID.

Not so loud.

ANATHEMA.

Eh, this way! Suffering mothers,--fathers who have lost their reason in grief,--brothers and sisters who devour one another in the convulsions of hunger--come this way, to David, who has brought joy to mankind!

DAVID.

_Seizing him by the shoulder._

You have lost your mind, Nullius. They may hear you and may break into the house.... What are you doing, Nullius? Be more cautious.

ANATHEMA.

_Shouting._

David is calling you!

DAVID.

_Dragging him away from the window forcibly._

Be silent! I'll choke you if you utter another word. You dog!

ANATHEMA.

_Releasing himself._

You are as foolish as a human being. When I call you to flee from here, you curse me. When I call you to love--you want to choke me.

_With contempt._

Man!

DAVID.

_Enfeebled._

Oh, do not ruin me, Nullius. Oh, forgive me if I have angered you, foolish old man that I am, with a memory that fails me. But I cannot--I cannot perform any miracles!

ANATHEMA.

Let us flee from here.

DAVID.

Yes, yes, let us flee.

_Irresolutely._

But where? Where do you want to lead me, Nullius? Is there a place on earth where God is not present?

ANATHEMA.

I shall lead you to God.

DAVID.

No, I don't want to go to Him. What will God tell me? And what shall I answer Him? Be considerate, Nullius. Can I say anything in answer to God now?

ANATHEMA.

I shall lead you to the desert. We shall leave here these wicked and vicious people, who are seized with the itch of suffering and who break down posts and fences like hogs that scratch themselves.

DAVID.

_Irresolutely._

But they are human beings, Nullius.

ANATHEMA.

Renounce them, and, pure, stand up in the desert before the face of God. Let the rock be your bed, let the howling jackal become your friend, let only the sky and the sand hear the penitent moans of David--not a single stain of another's sin shall come upon the pure snow of his soul. He who remains with lepers becomes a leper himself--only in solitude will you see God. To the desert, David, to the desert!

DAVID.

I shall pray.

ANATHEMA.

You will pray.

DAVID.

I shall exhaust my body with fasting.

ANATHEMA.

You will exhaust your body with fasting.

DAVID.

I shall cover my head with ashes.

ANATHEMA.

What for? Unfortunate people do that. But you will be happy, David, in your sinlessness. To the desert, David, to the desert!

DAVID.

To the desert, Nullius, to the desert!

ANATHEMA.

_Quickly._

Let us run. There is a cellar here of which no one knows. There are old barrels there, and there is the smell of wine. I shall hide you. And when they fall asleep--

DAVID.

To the desert! To the desert!

_They rush out quickly. Disorder and silence in the room.. Through the open window soon comes in the noise of voices and of brass trumpets, moans and sobs of the mob,--"Da-a-a-vid!"_

_And with its pages bent under it, like a house that is falling apart, lies the Bible, with its back upward._

SLOW CURTAIN.