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.
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._