Pastor. Belief, orientation, dialectics, faith, and as many of such words one can list, are all nothing to me. I do not ask you of them. There is only one subject, so alive and known; reign. It has lived through the ages; it was the first of all words and will be the last to perish. Subdue; do not resist – that is the key commandment. Everything else is a kitschy detail and a sloppy filter. Whoever follows this commandment will have their sins pardoned; who breaks it shall have their neck broken . . . I have come to warn you before the sentence you call for is carried out. My soul has thus been extricated.
Jerman. I thank you from within my heart. Did you not name me an honest man? I am truly not born to serve. I like being fed and cared for; yet my ankles and my knees are rigid; though I command them. There was no need to declare what I had knowledge of. I do not have the strength to be a martyr; I do not have the gift to be a hero. Let the future bring its command. Stick feathers on a dog and it will be no pigeon. Let the pigeon turn around nine times – it won't ever bark. I thank you. (Stands up.) You have shown me what my job is; transform serfs into human beings. Having hands and the mind of a single of them be unbound will be enough of a payment.
Pastor. You have made your assessment. (Puts their cup on the table to stand up. At that moment, the doors open.)
Pisek. (Steps in limping awkwardly.) Greetings! Viva! I have come! Let's shake hands! (Tauts his arm to Jerman and swings it.) Flies, black, where are, are there black
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