Bread without love is like grass without salt,--the stomach may be filled, but it leaves a bad taste in the mouth, and a bitter recollection. DAVID. Have I forgotten anything, Nullius? Remind me, my friend: I am old and my eyesight is poor, but do I not see musicians there, Nullius? Tell me! Do I not see flags as red as the tongues of crows over my head? Tell me, Nullius. ANATHEMA. You have forgotten the people, David. You do not see the children, David Leizer. DAVID. The children? _The women, weeping, hold out their children to David._ VOICES. "Bless my son, David!" ... "Touch my little girl with your hand, David." "Bless." ... "Touch her with your hand." ... DAVID. _Raising his hands heavenward._ Oh, Hannah, oh, Benjamin, oh, Raphael, and my little Moishe!... _Looks down, outstretching his arms to the children._ DAVID. Oh, my little birds who died on the naked branches of the winter!... Oh, children, my children, little children, tiny children!... Well, Nullius, am I not weeping? Am I not weeping, Nullius? Well, let everybody weep. Let the musicians play, Nullius--I understand everything now. Oh, children, little children, I gave you all, I gave you my old heart, I gave you my sorrow and my joy--Did I not give them all my soul, Nullius? _Crying and laughing through tears._ You have again wrenched my soul from the jaws of sin, Nullius. On the day of rejoicing I appeared mournful before the people, on the day of the people's exultation I did not raise my eyes to Heaven, but lowered them to the ground,--bad old man that I am. Whom did I want to deceive with my insincerity? Do I not live by day and night in raptures of joy, and do I not draw love and happiness with full hands? Why have I feigned sadness?... I do not know your name, woman; give me your child, the one that is laughing when everybody is crying, because he alone is sensible. _Smiling through tears._ Or are you perhaps afraid that I will steal it like a gypsy? _The woman kneels and holds out her child._ WOMAN. Take it, David! Everything belongs to you,--we and our children. SECOND WOMAN. Take mine, too, David! THIRD WOMAN. Mine, mine! DAVID. _Takes the child and presses it to his breast, covering it with his grey beard._ Hush!... It's my beard! Oh, what a terrible beard! But never fear, my little one, press to me more closely and laugh--you are the wisest of all. Sarah, my wife, come over here. SARAH. _Weeping._ I am here. DAVID. Let us step aside for a while. Woman, I will return the child to you, I will only hold it for a while.... Come, Sarah, let us step aside. Before you I am not ashamed to cry, be they tears of sorrow or tears of joy. _They step aside and cry softly. Only their stooping backs are seen, and David's red handkerchief with which he wipes his eyes, and the tear-stained face of the child._ VOICES.