bigger and bigger. Has that morrow rolled for ever beyond the bounds of the possible? It has rolled down the slope of my mortal wisdom. Oh! Ah! Ugh! (Twists for the last time, extends, and dies. The Doctor weeps. Harlequin, with a laugh, gets up and applauds himself.) No! Not so dies Harlequin!
Doctor (weeping): What must I do?
Harlequin (holds out his hand): For the advice, please. I take in advance.
Doctor: How much?
Harlequin: As much as you.
Doctor (gives back his fee): Well?
Harlequin (with importance): Go and live. Nothing else.
Doctor: What does that mean?
Harlequin: Well, if you don’t understand, you’re incurable. I tell you, go and live, but live, not like an immortal, but like a man that may die to-morrow.
Doctor (shakes his head doubtfully): H’m. I’ll try it. (Wipes his eyes.) Good-bye, Mr. Harlequin.
Harlequin: Good-bye, Mr. Doctor. (Exit Doctor, finger on brow.) Well, what have you got to say of it, Pierrot?
