Savva and the Life of Man Part 72

--Listen, listen. Ho! Somebody! A monster is going for me. He's raising his hand. Help! Ho!

--What is it? Help! A spider!

--Help!

_[For some time they shout "Help!" hoa.r.s.ely._

--We are all drunkards. Let's call down all the people from above.

It's so disgusting up there.

--No, don't. When I leave here and go out on the street, it rampages and tears about like a wild beast and soon throws me off my, feet.

--We've all come here. We drink rum and it gives us joy.

--It gives us fright. I shiver the whole day from fright.

--Fright is better than life. Who wants to return to life?

--I don't.

--I don't. I'd rather croak here. I don't want to live.

--No one!

--Oh my! Oh my!

--Why does Man come here? He drinks little and just sits still. We don't want him.

--Let him go to his own house. He has a house of his own.

--Fifteen rooms.

--Don't touch him. He has no place to go to any more.

--He has fifteen rooms.

--They're empty. Only rats run around and fight in them.

--And his wife.

--He hasn't any. Seems she died.

_[During this conversation and the following, Old Women in strange headgear enter quietly and replace unnoticeably the Drunkards, who quietly depart. The women mingle in the conversation, but in such a way that no one notices it._

CONVERSATION OF DRUNKARDS AND OLD WOMEN

--He'll soon die, too. He can scarcely drag himself along, he's so weak.

--He has fifteen rooms.

--Listen to the beating of his heart. It's uneven and faint. It'll soon stop beating altogether.

--Hey, Man, give us an invitation to your house. You have fifteen rooms.

--It'll soon stop beating altogether, that old, sick, feeble heart of Man!

--He's asleep, the drunken fool. It's dreadful to sleep, and yet he sleeps. He might die in his sleep.

--Hey, there, wake him up!

--Do you remember how it used to beat when it was young and strong?

_[A low laugh is heard._

--Who's laughing? There are some here who have no business to be here.

--It just seems so to you. We are all alone, only we drunkards.

--I'll go out on the street and start a fight. I've been robbed. I'm stark naked, and my skin is green.

--Good evening.

--The wheel is rumbling again. Oh, Lord, they'll crush me! Help!

_[No one responds._

--Good evening.

--Do you remember his birth? I believe you were there.

--I must be dying. Good Lord! Good Lord! Who will carry me to the grave? Who will bury me? I'll be lying like a dog on the street.

People will step over me, wagons will ride over me. They'll crush me.

Oh, my G.o.d! Oh, my G.o.d! _(Cries)_

--Permit me to congratulate you, my dear friend, on the birth of your child.

--I am positive there is a mistake here. For a circle to fall out of a straight line is an absurdity. I'll demonstrate it on the spot.

--You're right.

--Oh my! Oh my!

--It's only ignoramuses in mathematics who will permit it. I won't. I won't permit it, do you hear?

--Do you remember the rosy dress and the little bare neck?

--And the flowers? The lilies-of-the-valley on which the dew never dried, and the violets, and the green gra.s.s?

--Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls.