The Beloved (askance):
With us? We are all in all to each other.
The Lover (with the same gesture):
We need nobody. The old fool!
Pieris (in bitter perplexity):
No, I am not a fool. I am old, but I am not a fool—surely I am not a fool.
The scene is changed by the projected image of bare highways. The star bursts into a yellowish light. Enter a tattered and curly-haired man of somewhat southern appearance, encumbered with a knapsack. He is closely followed by a woman pushing a child’s pram filled with paltry chattels. She carries a child on her back. A second child follows whimpering.
The Man in a Hurry:
Good God! good God! Confound it! Hurry up a little! Do look sharp! Come along quicker!
The Wife of the Man in a Hurry:
I can’t go any quicker than that.
The Man in a Hurry:
My God! my God! what a cursed burden, a wife and children like that! At this rate we’ll never reach the New Land. Everybody else will be there before us, and then there’ll be nothing left for us.
