Every rouble in your pocket is a knife which you thrust into the heart of the hungry. Distribute your fortune to the poor, give bread to the hungry, and you will conquer Death. DAVID. No one gave a crust of bread to David when he was hungry. By satisfying their hunger, will I still the hunger that is in my bones? ANATHEMA. In them your own hunger will be stilled. DAVID. Shall I get back my health and my strength? ANATHEMA. In them you will be strong. DAVID. Shall I drive out death, already in my blood, which is as thin as water, which is already in my veins, that have become hard like dried-up cords? Shall I recover life? ANATHEMA. By their life you will prolong your life. Now you have but one heart, David,--but then you will have a million hearts. DAVID. But I shall die! ANATHEMA. No, you will be immortal! _David retreats in horror._ DAVID. Your lips have uttered a terrible word. Who are you that you dare promise immortality? Are not life and death in the hand of God? ANATHEMA. God said: Reestablish life through life. DAVID. But people are wicked and vicious, and the hungry one is nearer to God than the well-fed. ANATHEMA. Remember Hannah and Benjamin.... DAVID. Be silent! ANATHEMA. Remember Raphael and little Moishe.... DAVID. _Grief-stricken._ Be silent, be silent! ANATHEMA. Remember your little birds who died upon the cold branches of winter-- _David cries Utterly._ ANATHEMA. When the lark sings in the blue sky, will you say to it: "Be silent, little bird, God does not need your song"--And will you not give a kernel to it when it is hungry? And will you not cover it upon your breast when it is cold, that it may feel warm and save its voice for Spring? Who are you, then, unfortunate man, who has no pity on birds and who turns children out into the storm? Remember how your little Moishe died. Remember, David, and say: "The people are vicious, wicked, and unworthy of my kindness!" _David bends his knees as under a heavy weight and lifts his hands, as though warding off from his head a blow from the sky. He speaks hoarsely._ DAVID. Adenoi! Adenoi! _Anathema, with arms folded on his breast, looks at him in silence._ DAVID. Mercy! Mercy! ANATHEMA. _Quickly._ David, the poor are waiting for you. They will go away soon. DAVID. No, no! ANATHEMA. The poor are always waiting, but they grow tired of waiting and they go away. DAVID. They will not go away from me. Oh, Nullius, Nullius!... Oh, wise Nullius! Oh, foolish Nullius! Is it possible that you did not understand that I have long been waiting for the poor and that their voice is in my ears and in my heart? When wheels are riding along a dust-covered road, on which rain had just fallen, they think as they turn and leave a trace: Here we are making a road. But the road was there before, Nullius, the road was there before! _Gayly._ Call the poor over to me. ANATHEMA.