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ANATHEMA 
 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
 ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 
 
 LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
ANATHEMA 
 
 & Gfrage&i? in &>tbtn Scenes; 
 
 BY 
 
 LEONID ANDREYEV 
 
 AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY 
 
 HERMAN BERNSTEIN 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1910 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 V\ 
 
lO-XX^-71 
 
 \1 
 
 *«& 
 
 Copyright, 1909, 
 
 By HERMAN BERNSTEIN. 
 
 Copyright, 1910, 
 
 By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1910. 
 
 Norfoooto ^reas 
 
 J. S. Cushing Co. — Berwick <fc Smith Co. 
 
 Norwood, Mass., U.8.A. 
 
 (gCI.D 22284 
 
11 1 myself shall bring them bread and milk. 
 . . . Children are so tender. . . . They need 
 so little; they eat a little crust of bread and 
 they have enough; they drink a cup of milk 
 and they know no thirst any longer. Then 
 they Sing. ..." -David Leber. 
 
 To 
 
 NATHAN STRAUS 
 
 WHO SO GENEROUSLY SAVED THE LIVES OF 
 
 THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN 
 
 THE TRANSLATION OF THIS WORK 
 
 IS HEARTILY DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 HERMAN BERNSTEIN 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Guardian of the Entrances 
 
 Anathema 
 
 tradespeople 
 
 David Leizer 
 
 Sarah, his wife 
 
 Naum ] t . 
 
 \ their children 
 Rosa j 
 
 Ivan Bezkrainy 
 
 Sonka Zitron 
 
 purikes j 
 
 Dancing-master 
 
 Young Man 
 
 Pale Man 
 
 Organ-grinder 
 
 Wanderer 
 
 Abraham Khessin 
 
 Weeping Woman 
 
 Woman with Child in her Arms 
 
 Drunkard 
 
 Sonka's Little Girl 
 
 Leibke 
 
 Musicians, Blind People, Crowd 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
ANATHEMA 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The scene represents a wild, deserted place, the slope of a 
 mountain rising to infinite heights. In the rear of 
 the stage, halfway up the mountain, huge iron gates, 
 tightly closed, indicate the boundary of the world as we 
 conceive it. Beyond the iron gates, which oppress the 
 earth with their enormous weight, in silence and in 
 mystery, dwells the Beginning of every being, the 
 Supreme Wisdom of the universe. 
 
 At the foot of the Gates stands Someone guarding the entrances, 
 leaning upon a long sword, perfectly motionless. 
 Garbed in wide clothes, which are like stone in the 
 motionlessness of their folds and creases, He hides 
 His face beneath a dark cover, and is Himself the 
 greatest of mysteries. Standing on the boundary 
 separating two worlds, he is dual in his make-up; — in 
 appearance a man, in reality a spirit. An arbitrator 
 between two worlds, He is like unto a huge shield, 
 which gathers all bolts, — all looks, all entreaties, 
 all expectations, reproaches, and curses. The bearer of 
 two elements, He wraps his speech in silence, which is 
 like the silence of the iron gates, and sometimes in 
 human words. 
 
 Amidst the rocks, looking around on all sides strangely and 
 shyly, appears Anathema, someone accursed. Cling- 
 3 
 
ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 ing to the grey rocks, himself grey, cautious and flexible, 
 like a serpent seeking a hole, he goes stealthily and quietly 
 to the Guardian of the Entrances, desiring to strike him 
 with an unexpected blow. But he is frightened by his 
 own audacity and, jumping to his feet, laughs defiantly 
 and maliciously. Then he sits down on a rock, with 
 an air of freedom and independence, and throws small 
 cobblestones at the feet of the Guardian of the En- 
 trances; — cunning, he conceals his fear beneath the 
 mask of raillery and slight audacity. In the faint, 
 grey, almost colorless light, the head of the accursed one 
 seems enormous; especially large is his high forehead, 
 which is furrowed by wrinkles of fruitless reflections and 
 unsolvable eternal problems. Anathema's thin beard 
 is perfectly grey; his hair, once jet black, is also 
 greyish, rising on his head in disordered tufts. Rest- 
 less in his movements, he is vainly trying to conceal 
 his alarm and his purposeless haste, which are 
 forever devouring him. Endeavoring to emulate 
 the proud stillness of the Guardian of the En- 
 trances, he grows quiet for an instant in the pose 
 of proud majesty, but the very next moment, in 
 painful quest after the eternally elusive, he wriggles 
 in mute spasms, like a worm under foot. And in his 
 questions he is rapid and impetuous like a whirlwind, 
 drawing strength and fury in his mad whirl. . . . 
 
Anathema. 
 
 You are still here on guard? And I thought 
 you were away, — even a chained dog has his 
 moments of rest or sleep, even though the whole 
 world be his kennel and Eternity his master! 
 Is Eternity afraid of thieves ? But do not be angry. 
 I have come to you as a good friend and I implore 
 humbly : Open the heavy Gates for an instant and 
 allow me to have a glimpse of Eternity. You dare 
 not ? But perhaps the mighty gates have cracked 
 from age, and the unfortunate, honest Anathema 
 could peep into the narrow cleft, without disturb- 
 ing any one, — show me it with a sign. Softly, 
 on my belly, will I crawl over, I will glance at it 
 and crawl back, — and He will not know. But 
 I shall know and become a God, become a God, a 
 God! I have so long wanted to become a God — 
 and would I be a poor God ? Look ! 
 
 He assumes a haughty pose, but immediately bursts into 
 laughter. Then he sits down calmly on a flat rock 
 and, folding his legs under him, takes out dice. He 
 mutters something to himself, yet loud enough to be 
 heard by the Guardian of the Entrances. 
 S 
 
6 ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 If you don't want to you need not do it, — 
 I shall not fight with you. Have I come here 
 for that purpose? I simply roamed about the 
 world and came here by mere accident — I have 
 nothing to do, so I roam about. And now I 
 am going to throw dice. If. He were not so seri- 
 ous, I would have invited Him, too, — but He is 
 too proud, too proud, and He does not understand 
 the pleasure of the game. Six, eight, twenty — 
 correct ! It's always correct when the Devil 
 plays, even when he plays honestly. . . . David 
 Leizer . . . David Leizer . . . 
 
 Turning to the Guardian of the Entrances, he speaks freely. 
 
 Do you know David Leizer ? You surely do not 
 know him. He is a sick and foolish old Jew, 
 whom no one knows, and even your Master has 
 forgotten about him. So says David Leizer, and 
 I cannot help believing him — he is a foolish, but 
 honest man. He is the man I have won just 
 now with my dice — you saw it : six, eight, twenty. 
 . . . One day I met David Leizer by the seashore, 
 when he was questioning what the waves were 
 complaining of ; and I liked him. He is a foolish, 
 but honest man, and if he should be well 
 tarred and lighted, he would make a brilliant 
 torch for my feast. 
 
prologue] ANATHEMA 7 
 
 Chatting with feigned ease, he steps over softly to the rock 
 nearest the Guardian. 
 
 No one knows David Leizer, but I shall make him 
 famous, I shall make him mighty and great — it is 
 very possible that I shall even make him immortal ! 
 You do not believe me ? No one believes the wise 
 Anathema, even when he speaks the truth — and 
 who loves the truth more than Anathema does? 
 Perhaps you ? You silent dog, you who have stolen 
 the truth from the world, you who have barred the 
 entrances with iron! . . . 
 
 He rushes furiously toward the Guardian of the Entrances, 
 but retreats from the stern, motionless Guardian, with a 
 shriek of horror and pain. And he speaks plaintively, 
 falling with his grey chest upon the grey rock. 
 
 Oh, the Devil's hair is grey ! Weep, you who 
 have grown fond of Anathema! Wail and grieve, 
 you who are striving toward Truth, who are 
 honoring wisdom — Anathema's hair is grey ! 
 Who will help the son of Dawn? He is alone in 
 the universe. Wherefore, O Great One, have you 
 frightened the fearless Anathema — he did not 
 intend to strike you, he only wanted to approach 
 you. May I come over to you ? Tell me. 
 
 The Guardian of the Entrances is silent, but to Anathema 
 it seems that he hears something in the silence. Out- 
 stretching his serpentine neck, he shouts passionately. 
 
3 ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 Louder ! Louder ! Are you silent, or did you 
 speak? I do not understand. The accursed one 
 has a sensitive ear and discerns the shades of certain 
 words in your silence ; he feels a vague movement 
 of thoughts in your motionlessness, — but he does 
 not understand. Did you speak or are you silent ? 
 Did you say: " Come," or did it only sound so 
 to me? 
 
 The Guardian. 
 Come. 
 
 Anathema. 
 You said it, but I dare not come up to you. 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 Come. 
 
 Anathema. 
 I am afraid. 
 
 He advances toward the Guardian irresolutely, in zigzag 
 movements; lies down on his belly and crawls, wailing 
 with longing and fear. 
 
 Oh, I the prince of darkness, wise and powerful, 
 and yet you see — I am crawling on my belly like 
 a dog. And I am doing it because I love you, 
 I want to kiss the hem of your cloak. But why 
 
prologue] ANATHEMA q 
 
 does my old heart ache so much? Tell me, 
 Omniscient. 
 
 Guardian. 
 The accursed one has no heart. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Advancing. 
 
 Yes, yes. The accursed has no heart, his chest is 
 mute and motionless like the grey rock which does 
 not breathe. Oh, if Anathema had a heart, you 
 would have destroyed him long ago by his suffer- 
 ings, even as you destroy the foolish man. But 
 Anathema has a mind that is searching for the 
 Truth, unprotected against your blows — spare it. 
 . . . Here I am at your feet, reveal your face to 
 me. Only for an instant, as brief as the flash of 
 lightning, — reveal your face to me. 
 
 He cringes servilely at the feet of the Guardian, not daring, 
 however, to touch his cloak. He is vainly endeavoring 
 to lower his eyes, which are quick and searching, 
 sharp, flashing like coals beneath grey ashes. The 
 Guardian is silent and Anathema continues his fruit- 
 less and persistent entreaties. 
 
 Do you not want to do it ? Then call the name 
 of Him who is beyond the Gates. Call it in a soft 
 voice, and no one will hear it ; only I will know 
 
io ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 it, the wise Anathema, longing for Truth. Is it 
 not true that it consists of seven letters? Or of 
 six ? Or of one ? Tell me. Only one letter — 
 and you will save the accursed one from eternal 
 tortures, and the earth, which I am tearing with my 
 nails, will bless you. You may say it softly, softly, 
 you may only breathe it, and I shall understand it, 
 and I shall bless you. . . . Tell me. 
 
 The Guardian is silent, and Anathema, after some hesitation, 
 full of fury, crawls away slowly, growing bolder 
 with every step. 
 
 It is not true that I love you. ... It is not true 
 that I wanted to kiss the hem of your cloak. '. . . 
 I feel sorry for you, if you believed me. ... I 
 simply have nothing to do, so I roam about in the 
 world. ... I have nothing to do, so I question 
 the passers-by about this and that, — about things 
 I know myself. ... I know everything ! 
 
 He rises, shakes himself like a dog that has just come out of 
 the water, and choosing the highest rock, stands up 
 there in a haughty, actorlike pose. 
 
 I know everything. With my wisdom I have pene- 
 trated the meaning of all things, the laws of num- 
 bers are known to me, and the book of Fates is 
 open to me. At one glance I embrace life, I am the 
 axis in the circle of time, which whirls rapidly. 
 
prologue] ANATHEMA ii 
 
 I am great, I am mighty, I am immortal, and man 
 is in my power. Who will dare struggle with the 
 Devil ? The strong, I kill, and the weak I force 
 to whirl about in an intoxicating dance, a mad 
 dance, a devilish dance. I have poisoned all the 
 sources of life, on all its roads I have built ambus- 
 cades. ... Do you hear the voice of those who 
 curse? The voice of those who are exhausted 
 under the burden of evil? Of those who dare in 
 vain? Of those who long endlessly and terribly ? 
 
 Guardian. 
 I do. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Laughing. 
 
 The name ! Call the name ! Illumine the way 
 for the Devil and for man. All in the world want 
 goodness, but know not where to find it; all in 
 the world want life, but meet only death. The 
 name ! Call the name of goodness, call the name 
 of eternal life. I am waiting ! 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 There is no name for that which you ask, Anathema. 
 There is no number by which to count, no measure 
 
12 ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 by which to measure, no scales by which to weigh 
 that which you ask, Anathema. Every one who 
 has said the word, Love, — has lied. Every one who 
 has said the word, Wisdom, — has lied. And even 
 he who has uttered the word, God, — has lied 
 with the greatest and most terrible lie. For there 
 is no number, no measure, no scale, no name for 
 that which you ask, Anathema. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Where shall I go ? Tell me. 
 
 Guardian. 
 Where you are going. 
 
 Anathema. 
 What shall I do ? TeU me. 
 
 Guardian. 
 What you are doing. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You speak through silence — can I understand the 
 language of your silence ? Tell me. 
 
prologue] ANATHEMA 13 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 No. Never. My face is open, but you see it not. 
 My speech is loud, but you hear it not. My 
 commands are clear, but you know them not, 
 Anathema. And you shall never see, and you shall 
 never hear, and you shall never know, Anathema, 
 unfortunate spirit, deathless in numbers, eternally 
 alive in measures and in weights, but as yet unborn 
 to life. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Tormented. 
 
 Never ? 
 
 Guardian. 
 Never. 
 
 Anathema leaps down from the rocks, and tosses about madly, 
 devoured by grief. Clinging to the rocks, he embraces 
 them tenderly and then pushes them away angrily; 
 he moans bitterly. He turns his face to West and 
 East, to North and South of the earth, flourishing his 
 arms, as if calling the earth to wrath and vengeance. 
 But the grey rocks are silent, West and East are 
 silent, North and South are silent, and in stern 
 motionlessness , heavily leaning on his sword, stands 
 the Guardian of the Entrances. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Rise, O Earth ! Rise, O Earth, and gird your 
 sword, O man. There will be no peace between 
 
14 ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 you and Heaven ; the earth is becoming the abode 
 of darkness and death, and the Prince of Darkness 
 ascends to his throne upon it — from now on and 
 forever. I am going to you, David. I will hurl 
 your sad life towards the proud heaven like a 
 stone from a sling — and the foundations of the 
 high heavens will tremble. My slave, David ! 
 With your lips I will proclaim the truth about the 
 fate of man. 
 
 He turns to the Guardian of the Entrances. 
 And you ! . . . 
 
 He becomes silent, bashfully, confused by the Silence. He 
 stretches himself lazily, as from tediousness, and mut- 
 ters in a voice loud enough to be heard by the Guardian 
 of the Entrances. 
 
 But am I not roaming about, because I have 
 nothing to do ? I have been here, and now I shall 
 go there. Are there not plenty of roads for the 
 gay Anathema, who is fond of healthy laughter 
 and a carefree jest ? Six. . . . That means that 
 I bring to David a fortune which he does not ex- 
 pect. . . . Eight. . . . That means that David 
 Leizer is healing the sick and reviving the dead. 
 Twenty. . . . Correct ! That means . . . That 
 means that David and I come to express our grati- 
 tude. David Leizer, the great, the powerful, the 
 immortal David Leizer and I. . . . I am going. 
 
prologue] ANATHEMA 15 
 
 Anathema departs. 
 
 Silence. The rocks are silent; the mute Gates, pressing 
 the earth with their enormous weight, are silent; the 
 Guardian, petrified, is silent. 
 
 Silence. But did not Anathema's footsteps awaken an 
 alarming, resounding echo? One, two — some heavy 
 steps are heard coming. It is like one footstep, 
 but many people are coming; they are silent, but 
 the silence is already quivering. A momentary 
 confusion of sounds, of helplessness and tremulous 
 outbursts, and suddenly the silence breaks out in 
 high yellow flames of fire: somewhere below, in the 
 invisible distance, on earth, long trumpets, carried by 
 hands uplifted high, are blaring in rebellious, brass- 
 like tones, — their defiant cry of revolt is turned both 
 to earth and to Heaven. 
 
 One, two, — now it is clear that a crowd is moving; its 
 monstrous voice, its blended and separate sobs, its 
 noisy and stormy speech is heard; and below, in 
 the labyrinth from broken and dark passages, the first 
 distinct sound rings out : " Da-a-vid! " 77 grows more 
 distinct, rises higher, and now it soars overhead — 
 on the wings of this brass fanfare, above the heavy 
 stamping of the marching feet. 
 
 " Da-a-vid ! Da-a-a-vid ! Da-a-a-vid ! ' ' 
 
 The sounds blend harmoniously. They become the song of 
 millions of people. The trumpets are blaring, 
 exhausted ; they call hoarsely with their brass voices- 
 Does the Guardian of the Entrances hear them? The grey 
 rocks are covered with moans; passionate sobs rise to 
 His feet, but the Guardian is motionless, the Guardian 
 is speechless, and the iron Gates are mute. 
 
j6 ANATHEMA [prologue 
 
 The abyss crashes. 
 
 With one blow, as if splitting the earth, a brass roar and shout 
 breaks forth, — and out of the fragments, like a spring 
 from a rock that is split by lightning, a soft, harmoni- 
 ous, bright melody comes forth. 
 
 Then it dies out. 
 
 Silence. Immobility. Expectation, expectation, expectation. 
 
 Curtain 
 
ACT ONE 
 
 The south of Russia. A hot summer midday. A wide 
 road near the end of a large, thickly populated city. 
 Starting from the left corner of the stage, the road 
 crosses it diagonally, turning in the rear of the stage 
 to the right. Two high stone posts, of ancient 
 construction, dilapidated and slightly bent, indicate 
 the boundary of the city. On the side of the city line, 
 at the right post, there is a deserted, once yellow 
 sentry-box, the plaster fallen of in spots and the 
 windows tightly boarded and nailed up. On the 
 sides of the road there are several small shops made 
 of cheap wood, separated from one another by narrow 
 passages — in the desperate and ineffectual struggle 
 for existence the little shops seem to be clambering 
 stupidly upon one another. The people are dealing 
 in all sorts of merchandise : candies, sunflower seeds, 
 cheap sausages, herrings; each shop has a small, 
 dirty counter, through which a pipe with two faucets 
 stands out prominently — one of them for soda-water, 
 at a penny a glass, — the other for seltzer. One of the 
 little shops belongs to David Leizer; the others — to the 
 Greek Purikes, to the young Jewess Sonka Zitron, and 
 to the Russian, Ivan Bezkrainy, who, in addition to 
 his business, mends shoes and rubbers; he is the only 
 one who has "real noblemen 7 s " cider for sale. 
 c 17 
 
18 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 The sun is burning mercilessly and the jew small trees, with 
 their leaves curled up from the heat, are pining 
 for rain; the dusty road is deserted. Beyond the 
 posts, where the road is turning toward the right, 
 there is a high precipice — the dust-covered tops of 
 trees are seen here and there in the descending dis- 
 tance. And embracing the entire horizon, the sea 
 has stretched itself in a smoky blue strip, sleeping 
 peacefully in the heat and glare of the sun. 
 
 Sarah, David Leizer's wife, an old Jewess, exhausted by life, 
 is seated in front of her little shop. She is mending 
 some rags and is chatting languidly with the other 
 shopkeepers. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 No one is buying anything. No one is drinking 
 any soda-water ; no one is buying any sunflower 
 seeds or any fine candies which melt in the mouth. 
 
 Purikes. 
 Like an echo. 
 
 No one is buying anything. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 One might think that all the people have died so 
 as not to buy anything. One might think that we 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 19 
 
 remained alone with our stores in the whole world 
 — we alone in the whole world. 
 
 Purxkes. 
 Like an echo. 
 
 We alone. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 The sun has burnt all the customers — only the 
 shopkeepers remained. 
 
 Silence. The soft sobbing of Sonka is heard. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Sonka, yesterday you bought a chicken. Did you 
 kill or rob anybody that you can afford to buy 
 chickens? And if you are so rich and you hide 
 your money, why do you deal here and hinder us 
 from making a living ? 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 Like an echo. 
 
 And hinder us from making a living ? 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 Sonka, I am asking you, — is it true that you 
 
20 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 bought a chicken yesterday ? Don't lie, I know it 
 from trustworthy people. 
 
 Sonka maintains silence, weeping. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 When a Jew buys a chicken, it is because either the 
 Jew is sick or the chicken is sick. Sonka Zitron's 
 son is dying ; yesterday he commenced to die and 
 to-day he will end it — the boy is tenacious and he 
 is dying slowly. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 Why did she come here if her son is dying ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 Because it is necessary to trade. 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 It is necessary to trade. 
 
 Sonka is weeping. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Yesterday we ate nothing, we waited for to-day; 
 and to-day we will eat nothing, waiting that 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 21 
 
 to-morrow will bring us customers and happiness. 
 Happiness ! Who knows what is happiness ? All 
 people are equal before God, and yet one sells two 
 cents' worth, while another sells thirty cents' worth. 
 And one always two cents' worth, while the other 
 always thirty cents' worth, and no one knows why 
 happiness is given to a person. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 I used to sell thirty cents' worth, and now I sell only 
 two cents' worth. At that time I had no "noble- 
 men's" cider, and now I have it, and yet I sell only 
 two cents' worth now. Luck is changeable ! 
 
 Purikes. 
 Luck is changeable. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Yesterday my son Naum came and asked me: 
 "Mother, where is father?" So I said to him: 
 " What for do you want to know where father is ? 
 David Leizer, your father, is a sick, unfortunate 
 man, who is going to die soon ; and he goes to the 
 seashore to commune in solitude with God about 
 his fate. Don't disturb your father, he is going to 
 
22 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 die soon — you had better tell me what you want 
 to say." And Naum answered : "I will tell .you, 
 mother, — I am beginning to die ! " That is what 
 Naum answered. When David Leizer, my old 
 husband, came home, I said to him : " You are 
 still steadfast in your uprightness ! Blaspheme 
 God and die ! For your son Naum is already 
 beginning to die." 
 
 Sonka is weeping more loudly. 
 
 PuRIKES. 
 
 Suddenly looks around, frightened. 
 
 But what — But what if people should stop buying 
 things altogether ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 With ever growing fear. 
 
 What if people should suddenly stop buying things 
 altogether ? What are we to do then ? 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 With alarm. 
 
 How is it possible that people should stop buying 
 things altogether ? That's impossible ! 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 23 
 
 Sarah. 
 That's impossible. 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 It is possible. Suddenly everybody may stop buy- 
 ing things. 
 
 All are seized with horror,; even Sonka stops weeping, and 
 pale-faced, she surveys the deserted road with her 
 frightened, dark eyes. The sun is burning merci- 
 lessly. Anathema appears in the distance, at the turn 
 of the road. 
 
 A customer ! 
 
 A customer ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 A customer ! A customer ! 
 
 She cries again. Anathema comes nearer to them. Not- 
 withstanding the heat, he wears a black coat of fine 
 cloth, a black silk hat, black gloves; only his necktie 
 is white, lending a solemn air to his costume. He is 
 tall, and, though grey-haired, straight and stately. 
 The face of the accursed one is of a swarthy-grey color; 
 his features are stern and of peculiar beauty. When 
 
24 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Anathema takes of his hat, his enormous forehead is 
 revealed, furrowed by wrinkles. His head is unusually 
 large and his greyish black hair is dishevelled. Anath- 
 ema's neck is wiry and strong, but it is rather thin 
 and long, and in his nervous contortions he carries his 
 head like a heavy weight, giving it the appearance of 
 strange inquisitiveness, restlessness and malignily. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Do you want perhaps a glass of soda-water, sir? 
 It is as hot as in Hell, and if you don't drink, 
 you may die of a sunstroke. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 Real noblemen's cider ! 
 
 Purikes. 
 Violet soda ! My God, violet soda ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 Soda, seltzer ! 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Don't drink her soda-water. From her water rats 
 are dying and roaches stand up on their hind legs. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 25 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Ivan, aren't you ashamed to take away a cus- 
 tomer? I am not saying anything about your 
 noblemen's cider, which is fit only for mad dogs 
 to drink. 
 
 Purikes. 
 
 Joyously. 
 
 A customer ! A customer ! Please don't buy 
 anything from me, you needn't buy anything 
 from me, — all I want is to look at you. Sonka, 
 do you see ? A buyer ! 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 I don't see anything. I can't see. 
 
 Anathema lifts his hat, and bows to all kindly. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Thank you. I will drink a glass of soda-water 
 with pleasure, and perhaps even a glass of your 
 noblemen's cider. But I should like to know 
 where David Leizer's business place is. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Surprised. 
 
 It is here. Do you want David ? I am his wife, 
 Sarah. 
 
26 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes, madam Leizer, I want to see David, David 
 Leizer. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Suspiciously. 
 
 You have come with bad news : David has no 
 friends that wear clothes of such fine cloth as 
 you wear. If that is so, you had better go away. 
 David is not here, and I will not tell you where 
 he is. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Heartily. 
 
 Oh, no, madam, don't be uneasy ; I am not bring- 
 ing you any bad news. But how pleasant it is 
 to see such love. — Do you love your husband 
 very much, madam Leizer ? He must be a very 
 strong and healthy man, earning much money. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Frowning. 
 
 No, he is sick and old and unable to work. But 
 he has not sinned against God or man in any 
 way, and even his enemies dare not say anything 
 bad about him. Here is some seltzer, sir, it is 
 better than soda. And if you are not afraid of 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 27 
 
 » 
 the heat, I would ask you to sit down and wait 
 
 a while; David will soon be here. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Sitting down. 
 
 Yes, I have heard many good things about your 
 husband, but I did not know that he was so 
 feeble and old. Have you any children, madam 
 Leizer ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 We had six, but the first four died .... 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Nods his head compassionately. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Yes, we lived miserably, sir. And we have only 
 two left. Our son Naum . . . 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 A good-for-nothing, who makes believe that he 
 is sick and saunters about the city all day long. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Stop, Ivan, aren't you ashamed to slander honest 
 people? Naum is going around because he has 
 
28 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 to get credit. Then, sir, we have a daughter, and 
 her name is Rosa. But unfortunately she is too 
 beautiful, too beautiful, sir. Happiness — what 
 is happiness ? One person dies of smallpox, while 
 another person needs smallpox, but it would not 
 come, and the face is as pure as a flower leaf. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Feigning amazement. 
 
 Why are you so sorry about it ? Beauty is a gift 
 from God, which He has bestowed upon man, 
 whom he has thus elevated and brought nearer 
 to Himself. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Who knows? It may be a gift from God, and 
 it may be a gift from somebody else of whom I 
 would not speak. But there is one thing I do not 
 know; why has a man beautiful eyes, if he must 
 hide them ? Why has he a white face, if he must 
 cover it with soot and filth? Beauty is a too 
 dangerous treasure, for it is easier to hide money 
 from a robber, than beauty from a wicked man. 
 {Suspiciously.) Did you come perhaps to see Rosa ? 
 Then you better go away, — Rosa is not here, and 
 I will not tell you where she is. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 29 
 
 PlJRIKES. 
 
 A buyer. Sarah, look, a buyer is here. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Yes, yes, Purikes. But he will not buy that 
 which he has come for, and he will not find that 
 which he is seeking. 
 
 Anathema smiles good-naturedly and listens attentively to 
 the conversation ; every time some one begins to speak, 
 he stretches his neck and turns his head to the speaker, 
 holding it slightly bent on one side. He makes 
 grimaces like an actor, expressing now amazement, 
 now sorrow or indignation. He laughs, inappropri- 
 ately, thereby frightening and surprising the people. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Sarah, you are making a mistake in valuing your 
 goods too highly and not selling when people are 
 ready to buy. Every article loses its value if 
 you keep it too long. 
 
 Sarah 
 
 Tearfully. 
 
 What a wicked man you are, Ivan. I gave you 
 credit for ten copecks, and you are forever slander- 
 ing us. 
 
3 o ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Don't pay any attention to me, Sarah, — I am 
 wicked because I am hungry. You, sir, in that 
 black coat, go away : Sarah is an honest woman 
 and she will not sell her daughter to you, even 
 if you offered her a million. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Hotly. 
 
 That's right, Ivan, thank you. But who told 
 you, sir, that our Rosa is beautiful? It is not 
 true — don't laugh, it isn't true, she is as ugly as 
 deadly sin. She is as filthy as a dog that has 
 just crawled out of the coal-hole of a ship ; her face 
 is furrowed by smallpox and it looks like a field 
 where people dig lime and sand ; there is on her 
 right eye a cataract as large as on an old horse. 
 Look at her hair — it is like faded wool, half 
 torn away by birds; and when she walks, she 
 stoops, — I swear to you, she stoops when she 
 walks ! If you take her, everybody will laugh at 
 you, everybody will spit at you, the street urchins 
 will give you no rest . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Surprised. 
 
 But, madam Leizer, I have heard — 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 31 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Sorrowfully. 
 
 You have heard nothing ! I swear to you, you 
 have heard nothing. 
 
 Anathema. 
 But you yourself — 
 
 Sarah. 
 Imploringly. 
 
 Have I said anything? My God, women are so 
 talkative, sir; and they love their children so 
 dearly that they always consider them beautiful. 
 Rosa — beautiful ! {Laughs.) Just think of it, 
 Purikes, — Rosa is beautiful ! 
 
 She laughs. Rosa comes over from the direction of the city. 
 Her hair is disheveled, almost covering her black, 
 flashing eyes; her face is smeared with something 
 black, and she is dressed wretchedly. She walks with 
 a youthful and stately gait, but on noticing the strange 
 man, she stoops like an old woman. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Here, here is Rosa; look, sir ! My God, how 
 ugly she is. David cries every time he sees 
 her. 
 
32 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Of eitded, straightens herself. 
 
 There are uglier women than I am. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Persuasively. 
 
 What are you saying, Rosa ? There is no uglier 
 girl than you in the whole world. (Whispers 
 entreatingly.) Hide your beauty, Rosa. A robber 
 has come, Rosa, — hide your beauty ! At night I 
 will wash your face myself, I will comb your 
 braids myself, and you will be as beautiful as a 
 heavenly angel, and we will all pray to you. A 
 robber has come, Rosa. (Aloud.) Did they throw 
 stones at you again ? 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Hoarsely. 
 
 Yes, they did. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 And the dogs attacked you, too? 
 
 Rosa. 
 Yes, they did. 
 
 Sarah. 
 So you see, sir ? Even the dogs ! 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 33 
 
 Anathema. 
 In a friendly tone. 
 
 Yes, it seems that I have made a mistake. To 
 my regret, your daughter is really not pretty and 
 it is painful to look at her. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Of course, there are uglier girls than she is, but — 
 Go, Rosochka, go over there, take your work — 
 What is there for a poor and ugly girl to do but 
 work ? Go, my poor Rosochka, go. 
 
 Rosa takes some rags to mend and disappears behind the 
 counter. Silence. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Is it long since you have this store, madam Leizer ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Calmed down. 
 
 Thirty years already, ever since David became sick. 
 A misfortune happened to him when he served 
 in the army, — he was trampled by horses and 
 they crushed his chest. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Was David a soldier? 
 
34 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Interposing. 
 
 David had an older brother, and he was a scoun- 
 drel, and his name was Moses. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With a sigh. 
 
 And his name was Moses. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 And when the time came for Moses to serve in 
 the army, he ran off on an Italian steamer. And 
 David was taken in his place. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With a sigh. 
 David was taken. 
 
 Anathema. 
 What injustice ! 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 Have you ever met justice in the world ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Of course I have. You are no doubt an un- 
 fortunate man, and everything appears to you 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 35 
 
 in dark colors. But you will see, you will soon 
 see, that justice does exist. {Freely.) The devil 
 take it, I have nothing to do, so I always roam 
 about the world, and I have not seen anything 
 so plentiful as justice. How shall I say it, madam 
 Leizer? There is more justice on earth than 
 fleas on a good dog. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 But what if it is just as hard to catch justice as 
 to catch fleas. . . . 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 And what if it bites just as the fleas do ? 
 
 All laugh. From the side of the city appears an organ- 
 grinder, exhausted, half-blinded from dust and 
 perspiration. He wants to pass by, but suddenly 
 he pauses in despair, and begins to play a terrible 
 tune. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Pass on, please, pass on. We need no music. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Playing. 
 
 Neither do I need it. 
 
36 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Sarah. 
 We have nothing to give you. Pass on. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Playing. 
 
 Then I will die to the strains of music. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Generously. 
 
 Please, madam Leizer, give him something to eat 
 and water — I will pay for everything. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 What a kind-hearted man you are. Go, musician, 
 eat and drink. But for the water I will not take 
 anything from you — let the water be mine. 
 
 The organ-grinder sits down and eats ravenously. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Friendly. 
 
 Is it long you have been roaming over the world, 
 
 musician ? 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Morosely. 
 
 I used to have a monkey before — music and a 
 monkey. The monkey was eaten up by the fleas, 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 37 
 
 and my music box started to screech, and I am 
 looking for a tree on which to hang myself. That 
 is all. 
 
 A little girl runs in. She looks curiously at the organ- 
 grinder, then turns to Sonka. 
 
 Little Girl. 
 Sonka, Ruzya died. 
 
 Sonka. 
 Already ? 
 
 Little Girl. 
 Yes, he died. May I take some seeds ? 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 Closing her store. 
 
 You may. Sarah, if a customer comes, tell him that 
 I will attend to business to-morrow again, other- 
 wise he may think that my store is closed for good. 
 Have you heard it? Ruzya died. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Already ? 
 
38 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Little Girl. 
 
 Yes, he died. Is the musician going to play ? 
 
 Anathema whispers to Sarah and puts something into her 
 hand. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Sonka, here is a rouble for you; you see, a rouble ? 
 
 Bezkralny. 
 
 There is luck ! Yesterday a chicken, to-day a 
 rouble. Take it, Sonka. 
 
 All look greedily upon the rouble. Sonka and the little girl 
 go out. 
 
 Sarah. 
 You are very rich, sir. 
 
 Anathema. 
 With self-satisfaction. 
 
 Yes. I have a large practice — I am a lawyer. 
 Sarah. 
 
 Quickly. 
 
 David has no debts. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 39 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Oh, I haven't come for that at all, madam Leizer. 
 When you know me better, you will see that I 
 bring, but do not take, that I make gifts, but do 
 not take them back. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With fear. 
 
 Do you come from God ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 It would be too much honor for me and for you, 
 madam Leizer, if I came from God. No, I have 
 come of my own accord. 
 
 Naum comes over, looks at the customer with amazement, and 
 sits down, exhausted, upon a rock. Naum is a tall, 
 thin young man, with a narrow chest and a large, 
 pale nose. He looks around on all sides. 
 
 Naum. 
 Where is Rosa ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 In a whisper. 
 
 Not so loud, — she is there. {Aloud.) Well, how 
 was it, Naum? Did you get any credit? 
 
40 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Naum. 
 Slowly. 
 
 No, mother, I did not get any credit. I am begin- 
 ning to die, mother, — everybody feels hot, while 
 I am very cold ; and I am perspiring, but my 
 perspiration is cold. I met Sonka — Ruzya died 
 already. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 You will live yet, Naum, you will live yet. 
 
 Naum. 
 Slowly. 
 
 Yes, I will live yet. Why isn't father coming? 
 It is time for him to be here. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Clean a herring, Rosa. This gentleman is waiting 
 for David a long time already, and David isn't 
 here. 
 
 Naum. 
 What does he want ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 I don't know, Naum. Since he came, I suppose it 
 was necessary. 
 
 Silence. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 41 
 
 Naum. 
 
 Mother, I am not going for credit any more. I 
 will go with father to the sea. The time has 
 come when I must go and ask God about my fate. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Do not ask Him, Naum, do not ask. 
 
 Naum. 
 I will ask Him. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Entreatingly. 
 
 Don't do it, Naum, don't ask. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Why not, madam Leizer ? Do you fear that God 
 will give him a bad answer ? You should have more 
 faith, madam Leizer. If David heard you, he 
 would not approve your words. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Raising his head. 
 
 Is it you, young man, who wants to speak to God ? 
 
42 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Naum. 
 Yes, it is I. Every man can speak with God. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Do you think so ? Then ask for a new organ. Tell 
 Him that this one is screeching. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Compassionately. 
 
 He might add that the monkey was eaten up by 
 the fleas — that he needs a new monkey. 
 
 He laughs. All look at him in perplexity; the organ-grinder 
 rises and takes up his organ silently. 
 
 Sarah. 
 What do you want to do, musician ? 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 I want to play. 
 
 Sarah. 
 What for ? We don't need any music. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 I must thank you for your kindness. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 43 
 
 He plays something weird: the organ screeches, breaks off, 
 wheezes. Anathema, with eyes lifted dreamily to the 
 sky, keeps time with his hand, and whistles. 
 
 Sarah. 
 My God, how badly it sounds. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 This, madam Leizer {whistles), — this is called the 
 world harmony. 
 
 The conversation dies away for some time : only the screeching 
 of the organ and the whistling of Anathema are heard. 
 The sun is still shining mercilessly. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I have nothing to do, so I wander over the world. 
 
 He is carried away by the playing of the organ. Suddenly 
 the organ breaks of with a screech, which rings in 
 the ears for a long time, and Anathema remains as 
 petrified with uplifted hand. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Perplexedly. 
 
 Does it always end like this ? 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 Sometimes even worse. Good-by. 
 
44 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Feeling his vest pocket. 
 
 No, no, you mustn't go away like that. . . . You 
 have afforded us genuine pleasure, and I do not 
 want you to hang yourself. Here is some change 
 for you, and live on. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Pleasantly surprised. 
 
 Who could ever think, by looking at your face, that 
 you are such a cheerful and kind-hearted man ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Flattered. 
 
 Oh, do not embarrass me with your praise, madam 
 Leizer. Why shouldn't I help a poor man who 
 would otherwise hang himself ! The life of man 
 is a precious thing, madam Leizer, — and I always 
 carry change with me. . . . But isn't that ven- 
 erable man I see there David Leizer ? 
 He looks in the direction where the road turns to the right. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Also looking at the road. 
 Yes, that is David. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 45 
 
 All wait silently. On the dust-covered road appears David 
 Leizer, walking slowly. He is tall, bony, with long, 
 grey locks and a grey beard; on his head he wears 
 a high, black cap; in his hand a staff with which 
 he seems to measure the road. He looks down from 
 under his heavy eyebrows; and thus, without lifting 
 his eyes, he advances slowly and seriously to the 
 people, and stops, leaning upon the staff with both 
 hands. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Rising respectfully. 
 
 Where were you, David? 
 
 David. 
 
 Not lifting his eyes. 
 I was by the sea. 
 
 Sarah. 
 What did you do there, David? 
 
 David. 
 
 I looked at the waves, Sarah, and asked them 
 whence they came and whither they were going. 
 I was thinking of life, Sarah — whence it came 
 and whither it is going. . . . 
 
46 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Sarah. 
 What did the waves tell you, David ? 
 
 David. 
 
 They did not tell me anything, Sarah. . . . They 
 come and go away again, and the man by the sea 
 is waiting in vain for an answer from the sea. 
 
 Sarah. 
 With whom did you speak, David? 
 
 Daved. 
 
 I spoke with God, Sarah. I asked Him about 
 the fate of David Leizer, the poor Jew who is 
 going to die soon. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With emotion. 
 
 And what did God tell you ? 
 
 David is silent, his eyes lowered. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Our son Naum also wants to go with you to the 
 sea and ask about his fate. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 47 
 
 David. 
 
 Lifting his eyes. 
 
 Is Naum going to die soon ? 
 
 Naum. 
 Yes, father, — I have already commenced to die. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 But, pardon me, gentlemen. . . . Why should 
 you speak of death, since I have brought you life 
 and happiness ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Turning his head to him. 
 
 Do you come from God? Sarah, who is he who 
 dares to speak like this? 
 
 Sarah. 
 I don't know. He has been waiting for you a 
 long time. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Bustling about joyously. 
 
 Oh, ladies and gentlemen, smile. Attention for 
 one minute and I will make you all laugh. Atten- 
 tion, gentlemen. Attention! 
 
 All look with tense attention at Anathema's mouth. 
 
48 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Taking out a paper, solemnly. 
 
 Are you not David Leizer, the son of Abraham 
 Leizer ? 
 
 Leizer. 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 Well, yes, I am. But there may be another David 
 Leizer. I don't know — ask the people. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Interrupting him with a gesture. 
 
 Didn't you have a brother, Moses Leizer, who fled 
 to America thirty-rive years ago on the Italian 
 steamship Fortuna? 
 
 All. 
 
 Yes, he did. 
 
 David. 
 But I did not know that he was in America. 
 
 Anathema. 
 David Leizer, your brother Moses died ! 
 Silence. 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 49 
 
 David. 
 I have long forgiven him. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 And before he died he bequeathed all his fortune, 
 amounting to two million dollars (to the people sur- 
 rounding him), which means four million roubles, 
 — to you, David Leizer. 
 
 A deep sigh goes through the crowd and all seem as petrified. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Outstretching the paper. 
 Here is the document, you see — the seal. 
 
 David. 
 
 Pushing the paper aside. 
 
 No, don't ! Don't do that ! You were not sent 
 by God. God would not make sport of man in 
 this way. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Heartily. 
 
 This is not a jest. Upon my honor, it is the 
 truth, — four millions. Allow me to be the first 
 to congratulate you and to shake your honest 
 hand warmly. (Takes David Leizer' s hand and shakes it.) 
 
50 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Well, madam Leizer, what have I brought you ? 
 And what will you say now ? Is your daughter 
 Rosa beautiful now or is she ugly ? Aha ! Are 
 you going to die so soon, Naum ? Aha ! (Tearfully.) 
 That's what I have brought you, people, and 
 now permit me to step aside — and not to disturb 
 you — 
 
 Lifts a handkerchief to his eyes and steps aside, apparently 
 agitated. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Wildly. 
 Rosa! 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Also wildly. 
 
 What is it, mamma? 
 
 Sarah. 
 Wash your face ! Wash your face, Rosa ! My 
 God, quicker, quicker, — wash your face ! 
 
 As though insane, she drags Rosa, washes her, splashing the 
 water with trembling hands. Naum clings to his 
 father's arm, hanging on to it, as though he is about 
 to lose consciousness. 
 
 David. 
 Take back your paper ! (Firmly.) Take back 
 your paper! 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 51 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Have you lost your mind, David? Don't listen 
 to him. Wash yourself, Rosochka, wash your- 
 self ! Let all the people see your beauty ! 
 
 Naum. 
 Seizing the paper. 
 
 It is ours, father. Father, — this is how God 
 has answered you. Look at mother, look at Rosa 
 — look at me : I was already commencing to die. 
 
 Ptjrikes. 
 Shouts. 
 
 Ai, Ai, look out, they'll tear the paper. Ai, Ai, 
 take away the paper from them, quick ! 
 
 Naum cries, Rosa, radiantly beautiful, her hair wet, but 
 no longer covering her eyes, comes over to her father, 
 laughing. 
 
 Rosa. 
 It is I, father ! It is I ! It is — I ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Wildly. 
 
 Where were you, Rosa ? 
 
 Rosa. 
 I wasn't — I've just been born, mamma ! 
 
52 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 See, David, see — a human being has just been 
 born ! Oh, look at her, every one of you ! Oh, 
 open the doors of your vision, throw open the 
 gates of your eyes — look at her, every one of you ! 
 
 Suddenly David realizes the meaning of what has happened. 
 He throws his cap from his head, tears his clothing, 
 which seems to suffocate him, and pushing everybody 
 aside, rushes to Anathema. 
 
 David. 
 
 Sternly. 
 
 Why have you brought this? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Meekly. 
 
 But, pardon me, Mr. Leizer, I am only a lawyer. 
 I am sincerely glad. 
 
 David. 
 Why have you brought this ? 
 
 He pushes Anathema aside, and reeling, goes to the road. 
 Suddenly he stops, turns around and shouts, flourish- 
 ing his hands. 
 
 Davtd. 
 
 Drive him away — that is the Devil. Do you 
 think he brought me four million roubles? 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 53 
 
 No, he brought me four million insults. Four 
 million mockeries he hurled upon the head of 
 David . . . Four oceans of bitter tears have I 
 shed over life, my sighs were four winds of the 
 earth, my four children were devoured by hunger 
 and diseases — and now, when I must die, he 
 brings me four millions. Will they return to me 
 my youth which I passed in privation, oppressed 
 with grief, wrapped with sorrows, crowned with 
 anguish ? Will they repay me for one day of my 
 starvation, one tear that fell upon a rock, one 
 insult hurled at my face ? Four million curses — 
 that's what your four million roubles are — oh, 
 Hannah, oh, Benjamin, and Raphael, and my 
 little Moishe, — you, my little birdies, who died 
 of hunger upon the naked branches of winter — 
 what will you say if your father should touch 
 this money? No, I don't need any money. I 
 am telling you — I, an old Jew, dying of hunger. 
 I don't need any money. I don't see God in 
 this. But I shall go to Him, I shall tell Him : 
 What are you doing with David ? — I am going. 
 
 Goes away , brandishing his hands. 
 Sarah. 
 
 Crying. 
 
 David, come back, come back. 
 
54 ANATHEMA [act i 
 
 PlIRIKES. 
 In despair. 
 
 The paper, pick up the paper. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Turns around. 
 
 Calm yourself, madam Leizer, he will come back. 
 It is always thus at first. I have wandered a 
 great deal over the world and I know it. The 
 blood rushes to the head, the feet begin to quiver, 
 and man curses. That's nonsense ! 
 
 Rosa. 
 What a crooked mirror, mother ! 
 
 Natjm. 
 Cries. 
 
 Mamma, where is father going ? I want to live. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Throw away that piece of glass, Rosa. Man- 
 kind will reflect your beauty, the world will re- 
 flect your beauty — you will see yourself in the 
 world . . . Ah, you are still here, musician. Play 
 something for us, please. Such a holiday must 
 not pass without music ! 
 
act i] ANATHEMA 55 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 Shall I play the same? 
 
 Anathema. 
 The same. 
 
 The organ wails and wheezes. Anathema whistles furiously, 
 waving his hands, as though blessing everybody with the 
 music and the whistling. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
ACT TWO. 
 
 David Leizer lives richly. At the urgent request of his wife 
 and his children he has hired a rich villa, by the sea- 
 shore, engaged numerous servants, bought horses and 
 carriages. Anathema, under the pretext that he had 
 grown tired of his law practice, remained with David 
 as his private secretary. Rosa is taking lessons in 
 languages and deportment. Naum, who has grown 
 very sick, near to death, is learning how to dance. The 
 money has not yet arrived from America, but to David 
 Leizer, the millionaire, a large credit has been ex- 
 tended. 
 
 The stage represents a rich parlor, white marble here and there, 
 with large Italian windows and a door leading to a 
 veranda. It is midday. Beyond the open windows, 
 semi-tropical plants are visible, and the deep blue 
 sea in the distance; through one of the windows, a 
 view of the city is seen. 
 
 David Leizer is seated by the table, greatly depressed. A short 
 distance away, on a divan, Sarah is seated, dressed 
 richly, but without taste; she watches Naum learn- 
 ing how to dance. Naum is very pale, he coughs and 
 almost falls from weakness, especially when, accord- 
 ing to the rules of the dance, he must stand on one foot ; 
 but he is studying diligently! He is dressed rather 
 richly, but his bright-colored vest and necktie spoil 
 56 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 57 
 
 the elegance of his appearance. Near Naum, the 
 dancing-master, with a fiddle and bow, is bustling 
 about, balancing himself, rising up and down. He is a 
 man of unusual refinement and grace; he wears a white 
 vest, patent-leather slippers, and a smoking jacket. 
 And Anathema, standing at the veranda door, looks upon all 
 this with an air of sadness and reproach. 
 
 Dancing-master. 
 One — two — three ; one — two — three. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Look, David, see how successful our Naum is in 
 his dancing. I could not hop like that for any- 
 thing — poor boy ! 
 
 David. 
 I see. 
 
 Dancing-master. 
 
 Monsieur Naum is very talented. Please, one — 
 two — three ; one — two — three. Pardon me, 
 pardon me, this isn't exactly right. You must 
 make the step more precise, neatly rounding the 
 motion of the right foot. This way — this way. 
 Shows him how to do it. 
 
 Madam Leizer, dancing is quite like mathematics, 
 a circle is necessary. 
 
58 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 Sarah. 
 Do you hear, David ? 
 
 David. 
 I hear. 
 
 Dancing-master. 
 Please, monsieur Naum. One — two — three. 
 
 Plays on his violin. 
 
 Naum. 
 Out of breath. 
 
 One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, 
 three. 
 
 He turns around, and then, suddenly, almost jails down. 
 He stops. His face is exhausted, deathly pale ; he is 
 seized with a fit of coughing. Then he resumes danc- 
 ing. 
 
 Naum. 
 One, two, three. 
 
 Dancing-master. 
 
 That's the way, that's the way, monsieur Naum. 
 Please, more neatly! More neatly, please ! One, 
 two, three. 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 59 
 
 He plays. Anathema walks over to Sarah cautiously and 
 says in a low voice, yet loud enough to be heard by 
 David: 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Madam Leizer, does it not seem to you that Naum 
 is rather tired? This dancing-master knows no 
 mercy. 
 
 David. 
 
 Turning around. 
 
 Yes, it is enough. Sarah, you are willing to torture 
 the boy. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Confusedly. 
 
 What have I to do with it, David? Don't I 
 see that he is tired, but he wants to dance? 
 Naum, Naum f 
 
 David. 
 Enough, Naum ! Take a rest. 
 
 Naum. 
 
 Out of breath. 
 
 I want to dance. 
 
 Stops and stamps his foot hysterically. 
 
60 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Why am I not allowed to dance ? Or do you all 
 want me to die soon ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 You will live yet, Naum. You will live yet. 
 
 Naum. 
 Almost crying. 
 
 Why don't they allow me to dance? I want to 
 dance. I have looked for credit long enough, 
 I want to amuse myself. Am I an old man to He 
 in bed and cough there ? Cough ! Cough ! 
 
 He coughs and cries simultaneously. Anathema whispers 
 something to the dancing-master, who expresses com- 
 passion, nods his head, and prepares to go. 
 
 Dancing-master. 
 
 Until to-morrow, monsieur Naum. I am afraid 
 that our lesson was a little too long. 
 
 Naum. 
 
 To-morrow — don't fail to come to-morrow. Do 
 you hear ? I want to dance. 
 
 The dancing-master goes out, bowing. Naum follows him. 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 61 
 
 i 
 
 Naum. 
 
 To-morrow, without fail. Do you hear? With- 
 out fail. 
 They go out. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 What are you thinking of, David? Allow me 
 to be not only your private secretary — although 
 I am proud of this honor — but also your friend. 
 Since the time when you received the money 
 you are oppressed by a dark sorrow, and it pains 
 me to look at you. 
 
 David. 
 What is there that I should rejoice over, Nullius ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 And Rosa ? Do not sin against God, David ! Do 
 not our eyes rest upon her beauty and youth? 
 Before even the silent moon dared not look at her, 
 one star dared not whisper about her to any other 
 star, — while now she is riding about in a carriage, 
 and everybody looks at her, and horsemen gallop 
 after her. Just think of it, Nullius, horsemen 
 gallop after her ! 
 
62 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 David. 
 
 And Naum ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 What about Naum? He has long been ill, you 
 know it, and death upon a soft bed is not worse 
 than death upon the pavement. And perhaps he 
 will live yet, he will live yet {cries). David, 
 Abraham Khessin and Sonka's girl are waiting 
 for you in the yard. 
 
 David. 
 
 Morosely. 
 
 What do they want, money? Sarah, give them 
 a few pennies and let them go. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 In the end they will draw out all the money we 
 have, Nullius. I have given to Khessin twice 
 already. He is like sand, — no matter how much 
 water you pour into it, it is always dry and greedy. 
 
 David. 
 
 Nonsense ! we have too much money, Sarah. 
 But it pains me to look at the people, Nullius. 
 Since the time when you brought us this fortune — 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 63 
 
 Anathema. 
 Which you earned by your sufferings, Leizer. 
 
 David. 
 
 Since that time, the people have changed so much 
 for the worse. You like to have the people bow 
 to you very low, Nullius ? I do not like it — 
 human beings are not dogs that they should crawl 
 on their bellies. And you like to have the people 
 tell you, Nullius, that you are the wisest, the 
 most magnanimous, the best of all living beings 
 
 — whereas you are only an ordinary old Jew, 
 like many another Jew. I do not like it, Nullius, 
 
 — for the sons of the God of truth and mercy 
 it is unbecoming to lie, even while dying of the 
 cruelties of truth. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Thoughtfully. 
 
 Riches are a terrible power, Leizer. No one 
 asks you where your money came from; they 
 see your might and they worship it. 
 
 David. 
 
 Might? And Naum? And I, Nullius? Can 
 I buy for all the money even a single day of 
 health and life? 
 
64 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Anathema. 
 You look considerably fresher now. 
 
 David. 
 
 Smiling gloomily. 
 
 Yes? Should I, perhaps, also engage a dancing- 
 master? What do you advise me, Nullius? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Don't forget Rosa, father. Is it not a great sin 
 against God to hide the beauty of the face? It 
 is given as a joy and a pleasure to the eyes ; God 
 Himself reveals His beauty in a beautiful face, 
 and did we not lift our hands against God Him- 
 self when we stained our Rosa's face with coal 
 and soot, when we made her terrible and sorrow- 
 ful to look upon ? 
 
 David. 
 Beauty is withering. Everything is dying, Sarah. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 But the lily also withers, and the narcissus dies, 
 the petals of the yellow rose fall apart — would you, 
 David, trample all flowers under foot and heap 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 65 
 
 abuse upon the yellow rose? Do not doubt, 
 David, — the God of righteousness has given you 
 riches — will you who were so firm in misfortune 
 that you did not blaspheme God even once — 
 will you grow weak in your happiness? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You are perfectly right, madam Leizer. Rosa 
 has so many suitors that all she needs is to choose. 
 
 David. 
 
 Rising angrily. 
 
 I will not give Rosa to any of them. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Why not, David? 
 
 David. 
 
 I will not give Rosa to any of them. They are 
 like dogs that want to eat out of the golden bowl 
 — I will drive the dogs away. 
 
 Enter Rosa. She is dressed richly, but simply. She is 
 somewhat pale and fatigued, but very beautiful. She 
 tries to speak and to move gracefully, but at times 
 she forgets herself and becomes rude and vociferous. 
 She feels tormented by this. Rosa is accompanied by 
 two horsemen. The older man is very pale and he 
 
66 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 frowns angrily. Naurn clings to Rosa, as 
 seeking protection in her youth, strength, and beauty, 
 and he walks faintly after her. 
 
 David. 
 
 In a rather loud voice. 
 
 Sarah, here are the suitors. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Waving her hand. 
 
 Oh, be silent, David. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Kissing her mother carelessly. 
 
 How tired I am, mamma. Good afternoon, father. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Take care of yourself, Rosochka; you mustn't 
 
 study so much. 
 
 To the older of the two cavaliers. 
 
 Please tell her that she mustn't work so hard — 
 what does she need to work for now ? 
 
 Young Ruder. 
 In a low voice. 
 
 People should pray before your daughter, madam 
 Leizer. Soon a temple will be erected in her honor. 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 67 
 
 Older Rider. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 And near the temple, a cemetery. Madam Leizer, 
 there are always cemeteries near the temples. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Good-by. I am tired. If you are disengaged, 
 come in to-morrow morning — I may go out with 
 you again. 
 
 Older Rider. 
 
 Shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 Disengaged ? Oh, yes, of course, we are entirely 
 free. 
 
 Harshly. 
 
 Good-by. 
 
 Young Rider. 
 
 With a sigh. 
 
 Good-by. 
 
 They go out. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Uneasily. 
 
 Rosochka, I think you have offended him. Why 
 did you do it? 
 
68 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Rosa. 
 That doesn't matter, mamma. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 To David. 
 
 These are not suitors, David. 
 
 David laughs morosely. Anathema runs over to Rosa and 
 offers her his arm. He leads her, half-dancing, 
 merrily whistling the same tune that the organ had 
 played. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Oh, Rosa, were it not for my age {whistles) and not 
 for my illness {whistles), I would be the first to 
 ask your hand. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Laughing haughtily. 
 
 Better illness than death. 
 
 David. 
 You are a very gay man, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Whistling. 
 
 The absence of wealth and, then, a clear con- 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 69 
 
 science, David, a clear conscience. I have noth- 
 ing to do, so I walk arm in arm with Rosa. You 
 spoke of death, Rosa? 
 
 Rosa. 
 Yes. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Stopping. 
 
 You are indeed beautiful, Rosa. 
 
 Thoughtfully. 
 
 And what if. ... If. . . . But no; duty above 
 all. Listen to me, Rosa : don't give yourself away 
 to any one less than a prince, even though the 
 prince of darkness. 
 
 Naum. 
 
 Rosochka, why did you go away from me? I 
 feel cold when you do not hold my hand. Hold 
 my hand, Rosochka. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Hesitating. 
 
 But I must go to change my dress, Naum. 
 
 Naum. 
 I will accompany you as far as your room. You 
 
70 ANATHEMA . [act n 
 
 know, I danced again to-day and danced very 
 well. I am not so short of breath now any longer. 
 
 With a feeling of adoration and slight envy. 
 
 How beautiful you are, Rosochka ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Wait, Rosochka, I will comb your hair myself. 
 Will you allow me? 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 You do it very badly, mamma ; you kiss it more 
 than you comb it — my hair gets entangled from 
 your kisses. 
 
 David. 
 Is that how you answer your mother, Rosa? 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Stopping. 
 
 Why do you despise my beauty, father? 
 
 David. 
 Before, I used to love your beauty, Rosa. 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 71 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With indignation. 
 
 What did you say, David? 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, Sarah. I love the pearl when it is on the 
 bottom of the sea; but after it is taken out of 
 the sea, it becomes blood — and then I do not 
 like pearls, Sarah. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Why do you despise my beauty, father ? Do you 
 know what another girl in my place would have 
 done? She would have lost her mind and would 
 have whirled about on earth like a dog that 
 swallowed a pin. But what am I doing? I 
 am studying, father. I am studying by day 
 and night, father. 
 
 In great agitation. 
 
 I don't know anything. I don't know how to 
 speak, I don't even know how to walk — I stoop, 
 I stoop as I walk. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 That isn't true, Rosa. 
 
72 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Agitated. 
 
 Here I have forgotten myself for a while, and I 
 am shouting, I am croaking hoarse] y, like a crow 
 that has caught cold. I want to be beautiful — 
 that's what I was born for. You laugh? It 
 is in vain. Do you know that your daughter 
 will be a duchess, a princess? I want to add 
 a scepter to my crown ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Oho! 
 
 All three go out. David jumps from his seat angrily and 
 paces the room quickly. 
 
 David. 
 
 What a comedy, Nullius ! Yesterday she begged 
 Heaven for a herring, and to-day a crown is not 
 enough for her. To-morrow she will take the 
 throne away from Satan and will sit upon it, 
 Nullius, and she will sit firmly ! What a comedy ! 
 
 Anathema has changed the expression of his face; he is 
 stern and morose. 
 
 Anathema. 
 No, David Leizer, it is a tragedy. 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 73 
 
 David. 
 
 Tis a comedy, Nullius, a comedy. Don't you 
 hear the laughter of Satan in all this ? 
 
 Pointing at the door. 
 
 You saw a corpse dancing — I see it every 
 morning. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Is Naum so dangerously ill ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Dangerously ill ? Three physicians, three serious 
 gentlemen, examined him yesterday and told me 
 quietly that in a month from now Naum will die, 
 that he is already more than half a corpse. And 
 every morning I see in this white marble parlor 
 a corpse jumping to the tune of music — is it not 
 a dream, Nullius ? Is it not the laughter of 
 Satan ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 And what did they say about your health, David ? 
 
 David. 
 I did not ask them. I don't want them to tell me. 
 
74 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 You may also jump to the tune of music, David. 
 How would you like it, Nullius : two corpses danc- 
 ing in a white marble hall? 
 He laughs bitterly. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You frighten me, my friend. What is going on 
 within your soul? 
 
 David. 
 
 Do not touch my soul, Nullius — there is horror 
 in it! 
 
 Clasps his head. 
 
 Oh ! what shall I do ? What shall I do ? I am 
 alone in the whole world. 
 
 Anathema. 
 What ails you, David? Calm yourself. 
 
 David. 
 
 Stopping before Anathema, horror-stricken. 
 
 Death, Nullius, death ! You have brought us 
 death. Was I not mute before the face of Death ? 
 Did I not wait for it as for a friend ? But here 
 you have brought us riches — and I want to dance. 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 75 
 
 I want to dance, yet death clutches at my heart ; 
 I want to eat, for hunger has entered my very 
 bones, — but my old stomach refuses to accept 
 any food ; I want to laugh, but my face is sobbing, 
 my eyes are weeping, and my soul is crying with 
 mortal fear. Hunger has crept into my bones, 
 and poison is already in my blood — there is no 
 salvation for me; Death has overtaken me. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Significantly. 
 
 The poor are waiting for you, David. 
 
 David. 
 What matters it ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 The poor are waiting for you, David. 
 
 David. 
 The poor are always waiting. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Sternly. 
 
 Now I see that you are really lost, David. God 
 has forsaken you. 
 
76 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 David stops and looks at him, surprised and angry. Anath- 
 ema, with head thrown back haughtily, meets his look 
 calmly and sternly. Silence. 
 
 David. 
 You say this to me, Nullius? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes, I say this to you, David Leizer. Beware, 
 David Leizer, you are in Satan's hands. 
 
 David. 
 
 Terrified. 
 
 Nullius, my friend, you frighten me. What 
 have I done to deserve your anger and these 
 cruel, terrible words of yours ? You have always 
 treated me and my children so kindly. . . . Your 
 hair is just as grey as mine, in your face I have 
 long observed a hidden grief, and — I respect you, 
 Nuliius ! Why are you silent ? A terrible fire 
 is burning in your eyes. — Who are you, Nullius ? 
 But you are silent. — No, no, do not lower your 
 eyes, I am even more terrified when they are low- 
 ered, for then upon your brow appear fiery letters 
 of some vague — of some terrible — fatal truth. 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 77 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Tenderly. 
 
 David! 
 
 David. 
 
 Joyously. 
 
 You have started to speak, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Be silent and listen to me. From madness I 
 will bring you back to wisdom, from death to life. 
 
 David. 
 I am silent and I am Hstening. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Your madness consists of this, David Leizer, — 
 you have sought for God all your life, and when 
 God came to you, you said : " I do not know You." 
 Your death consists of this, David Leizer, — 
 blinded by misfortunes, like a horse that is turning 
 around in the darkness, you failed to notice the 
 people and you remained in their midst alone, with 
 your illness and your riches. There in the yard 
 Life is waiting for you — and you, blind man, you 
 close the door against it. Dance, David, dance, — 
 
78 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Death has lifted the bow and is waiting for you. 
 Be more graceful, David Leizer, more graceful; 
 round out your steps more neatly ! 
 
 David. 
 What do you want of me ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Return to God that which God has given to you. 
 
 David. 
 
 Darkly. 
 
 Has God given me anything? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 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. 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 79 
 
 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 lif e ? 
 
 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 
 
80 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 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 bitterly. 
 
act h] ANATHEMA 81 
 
 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 of 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. 
 
82 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 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 Nul- 
 lius! 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. 
 
 Consider, David, whom you are calling. 
 
 Darkly. 
 
 Do not deceive me, David. 
 
act h] ANATHEMA 83 
 
 David 
 I have never deceived any one, Nullius. 
 
 Resolutely and majestically. 
 
 You spoke and I was silent, and I listened; now 
 be silent and listen to me : I have given my soul 
 not to man but to God, and His power is over 
 me. And I command you : Call my wife Sarah 
 over here, and my children Naum and Rosa, and 
 all the people in my household, whoever they 
 may be. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Obediently. 
 
 I shall call them. 
 
 David. 
 
 And call the poor who are waiting for me in the 
 yard. And when you go out on the street, see 
 whether there are any poor people waiting for me, 
 and if you see them, call them also. For my lips 
 are burning with their thirst, their hunger torments 
 my body with insatiable hunger, and I am hasten- 
 ing to announce to the people my last, unchange- 
 able will. Go ! 
 
84 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Obediently. 
 
 Your will is upon me. 
 
 Anathema goes to the door. Silence. 
 
 David. 
 
 The spirit of God has come over me. Adenoi. 
 Adenoi. . . . Who was the terrible one that spoke 
 through the voice of old Nullius, when he spoke 
 about my little children who died? Only an 
 arrow out of the bow of the Omniscient strikes 
 the very heart with such good aim. My little 
 birds. . . . Verily, You have saved me upon the 
 edge of the abyss, and You have torn my spirit 
 away from the clutches of the Devil. He who 
 looks straight at the sun may grow blind, but 
 with the lapse of time the light may come back 
 to the revived eyes ; but he who looks into dark- 
 ness grows blind forever. My little birds. . . . 
 
 Suddenly he laughs softly and joyously, and he whispers. 
 
 I myself shall bring them bread and milk, I shall 
 hide myself behind the bed-curtain that they should 
 not see me — children are so tender and easily 
 frightened and they are afraid of unfamiliar peo- 
 ple ; and I have such a terrible beard. {Laughs.) 
 I shall hide myself behind the bed-curtain and will 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 85 
 
 watch how the children are eating. They need 
 so little ; they eat a little crust of bread and they 
 have enough; they drink a cup of milk and they 
 know no thirst any longer. Then they sing — 
 But how strange! does not the night pass away 
 when the sun comes? do not the waves, at the 
 end of the storm, lie down calmly and quietly 
 like lambs resting in the pasture? Whence 
 came the alarm, the slight confusion, and the 
 fear? Shades of unknown woes are passing over 
 my soul and soaring noiselessly over my thoughts. 
 Ah, if I remained poor, if I remained un- 
 known, under the shade of the fence where the 
 refuse is cast away ! You have lifted me to the 
 peak of the mountain and You show my old, 
 sorrowful face to the world. But such is Your will. 
 You will command — and the lamb will become 
 a lion ; You will command — and the furious Hon 
 will stretch out her powerful breasts to her little 
 ones; You will command — and David Leizer, 
 who has grown white in shade, will fearlessly 
 rise to the sun. Adenoi ! Adenoi ! 
 Sarah, Nauru, and Rosa enter, alarmed. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 David, what is it you have called us for? And 
 why was your Nullius so strict when he told us 
 
86 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 of your command? We have not sinned against 
 you, and if we have sinned, investigate it, but 
 do not look at us so sternly. 
 
 May I sit down? 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 David. 
 
 Be silent and wait. All those whom I have called 
 are not here yet. Be seated, Rosa, if you are 
 tired, but when the time comes, rise. You, too, 
 may sit down, Naum. 
 
 The servants enter irresolutely ; a lackey, resembling an Eng- 
 lish Minister; a chamber-maid ; a cook; a gardener; 
 a dish-washer, and others. They move about in confu- 
 sion. Soon about fifteen or twenty poor people enter, 
 in groups. Among them are: Abraham Khessin, an 
 old man; Sonka?s girl; Joseph Kritsky, Sarah Lepke, 
 and several other Jews and Jewesses. But there 
 are also Greeks, and Little Russians, and Russians 
 and other paupers whose nationality has been lost 
 in rags and filth; two drunkards. Purikes, Ivan 
 Bezkrainy, and the Organ-grinder, with the same 
 outworn instrument, are also here. But Anathema 
 is still away. 
 
 David. 
 Please, please. Come in more boldly, don't stop at 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 87 
 
 the threshold, — others are coming behind you. 
 But it would be well if you wiped your feet first ; 
 this rich house is not mine, and I must return 
 it as clean as when I took it. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 We have not yet learned how to walk on rugs, 
 and we have not yet any patent leather shoes, 
 as your son Naum has. How do you do, David 
 Leizer ? Peace be upon your house. 
 
 David. 
 
 Peace unto you, too, Abraham. But why do you 
 call me David Leizer, when you used to call me 
 simply David before ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 You are now such a mighty man, David Leizer. 
 Yes, I used to call you merely David before, 
 but here I was waiting for you in the yard, 
 and the longer I waited, the longer your name 
 grew, Mr. David Leizer. 
 
 David. 
 
 You are right, Abraham : when the sun sets, the 
 shadows become longer, and when a man becomes 
 
88 ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 smaller, his name grows longer. But wait another 
 while, Abraham. 
 
 Lackey. 
 
 To drunkard. 
 
 You better move away from me. 
 
 Drunkard. 
 
 Keep quiet, fool ! You are a servant here, while 
 we are the guests. 
 
 Lackey. 
 
 Ruffian ! You aren't in a car here, that you spit 
 on the floor. 
 
 Drunkard. 
 
 Mr. Leizer, a certain man, who looked like an old 
 devil, caught me by the collar and said : " David 
 Leizer, who received an inheritance, is calling you." 
 I asked him, "What for?" So he answered: 
 "David wants to make you his heir," and he began 
 to laugh. And now that I came here, your servant 
 is chasing me away. 
 
 David. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 Nullius is a gay man and he never misses an 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 89 
 
 opportunity for jesting. But you are my guest, 
 and I ask you to wait. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 After some hesitancy. 
 
 Well, how is your business getting along, Ivan? 
 You have fewer competitors now. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 It's bad, Sarah ; we have no customers. 
 
 Purikes. 
 Like an echo. 
 
 No customers. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Compassionately. 
 
 Ai — Ai — Ai ! It's bad, if there are no customers. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Don't speak, mamma. Do you want, perhaps, to 
 smear my face again with soot ? 
 
 Pushing several paupers into the door, Anathema enters, ap~ 
 parently fatigued. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Well, David, meanwhile receive these. Your mil- 
 
go ANATHEMA [act n 
 
 lions frighten the poor, and nobody wanted to 
 follow me, thinking that some deception is hidden 
 here. 
 
 Drunkard. 
 This is the man who caught me by the collar. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Ah, is that you ? How do you do ? How do you 
 do? 
 
 David. 
 
 Thank you, Nullius. Now take ink and paper 
 and sit down near me, by the table ; bring me my 
 old counting-board. ... As everything I am 
 about to say is very important, I ask you to write 
 it correctly and to make no errors — we shall give 
 an account of every word before God. I ask you 
 all to rise and listen attentively, striving to under- 
 stand the great words which I am about to utter. 
 
 Sternly. 
 
 Rise, Rosa. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 God, have mercy on us ! What are you going to 
 do, David? 
 
act h] ANATHEMA 91 
 
 David. 
 Be silent, Sarah. You will come with me. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Ready. 
 
 All listen, standing. 
 
 David. 
 
 Solemnly. 
 
 Upon the death of my brother, Moses Leizer, I 
 received an inheritance (on the counting-board) of 
 two million dollars. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Nervously, lifting four fingers. 
 
 Which means four million roubles. 
 
 David. 
 
 Sternly. 
 
 Do not interrupt me, Nullius. Yes, it does mean 
 four million roubles. And now, submitting to the 
 voice of my conscience and the command of God, 
 and also in memory of my children, Hannah, 
 Benjamin, Raphael, and Moses, who died of hunger 
 and disease in their childhood. . . . 
 
 He lowers his head and weeps bitterly. Sarah also cries 
 bitterly. 
 
92 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Oh, my little Moishe! David, David, our little 
 Moishe is dead. 
 
 David. 
 
 Wiping his eyes with a large red handkerchief. 
 
 Be silent, Sarah. What was I going to say to 
 them, Nullius? . . . Well, write, Nullius, write. 
 I know. 
 
 Firmly. 
 
 I have resolved, in accordance with the command 
 of God, who is Truth and Mercy, to distribute 
 all my possessions to the poor. Am I speaking 
 properly, Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 I hear God in your words. 
 
 At first no one believes David; but soon joyous doubts and 
 unexpected fear come over them. As though in sleep 
 the people repeat: u Four millions, four millions!" 
 and they hide their faces with their hands. The 
 Organ-grinder comes forward. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Morosely. 
 
 Will you buy me a new organ, David ? 
 
act n] ANATHEMA 93 
 
 Anathema. 
 Hush, musician ! Back ! 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 Retreating. 
 
 I want also a new monkey. 
 
 David. 
 Let your hearts rejoice, O unfortunate people, and 
 with a smile on your lips answer the mercy of 
 Heaven. Go from here to the city, like heralds 
 of happiness, — go through all its streets and 
 squares, and shout everywhere: " David Leizer, 
 the old Jew, who is to die soon, received an inherit- 
 ance and now distributes it among the poor." 
 And if you will see a man weeping, and a child 
 whose face is bloodless and whose eyes are dim, 
 and a woman whose breasts are shrunken like 
 those of an old goat, — tell them also : " Go, David 
 is calling you." Do I speak properly, Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Yes, yes. But have you called all those who 
 should be called? 
 
 David. 
 And if you should see an intoxicated man slumber- 
 ing amidst his vomitings, wake him and tell him : 
 
94 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 "Go, David is calling you." And if you should 
 see a thief thrashed in the market-place by those 
 he had robbed, call him also, with words of kindness, 
 yet firm enough to be regarded as a command : 
 "Go, David is calling you." And if you should 
 see people who in their misery have become irri- 
 tated and furious and who are beating one another 
 with sticks and bits of brick, announce to them 
 also in words of peace : " Go, David is calling you." 
 And if you should see a bashful man, who while 
 walking in the wide street lowers his eyes before 
 the eyes of others, but who stares greedily when no 
 one looks at him, tell him also in a low voice, 
 without offending his pride : "Are you not looking 
 for David? Go, he has long been waiting for 
 you." And if in the evening, when the Devil 
 sows the seeds of night over the earth, you should 
 see a woman, hideously painted, just as the heathen 
 paint the bodies of their dead, and who stares 
 boldly, for she has lost all shame, and who lifts 
 her shoulders, for fear of a blow, tell her also : 
 " Go, David is calling you." Do I speak properly, 
 Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes, David. But have you called all who should 
 be called ? 
 
act h] ANATHEMA 95 
 
 David. 
 
 And whatever form of aversion or fear poverty 
 may assume, and in whatever colors misery may 
 paint itself, and by whatever words suffering may 
 fence itself around, rouse with a loud call those 
 who are fatigued, in words of life return life to those 
 who are dying ! Do not trust the silence and the 
 darkness if they obstruct your way like a wall: 
 Shout more loudly into the silence and the darkness, 
 for there dwells unspeakable horror. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 That's right, David, that's right ! I see how your 
 spirit climbs to the peak of the mountain and 
 how you knock loudly at the iron gates of eternity : 
 Open ! I love you, David, I kiss your hand, 
 David, — like a dog I am ready to crawl before 
 you and to obey your commandments. Call, 
 David, call ! Rise, O earth ! North and South, 
 East and West, I command you, by the will of 
 David, my master, answer the call of him who calls 
 you, and stop at his feet like four oceans of tears. 
 CaU, David, call ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Lifting his hands. 
 
 North and South. 
 
9 6 
 
 
 ANATHEMA 
 Anathema. 
 
 East and West. 
 
 . . . 
 
 
 
 David. 
 
 Dav 
 
 id is calling 
 
 you all. 
 
 [act II 
 
 Anathema. 
 David is calling you all. 
 
 Confusion, tears, laughter, — for all believe him now. Anath- 
 ema kisses David's hand, springing about delightedly. 
 He drags the Organ-grinder by the collar to the center. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Look, David, here's a musician ! 
 
 Laughs and shakes the Organ-grinder. 
 
 So you don't want your old music, eh ? You need 
 a new monkey, eh? Perhaps you will ask for a 
 powder that destroys the fleas? Ask; we shall 
 give you everything. 
 
 David. 
 
 Be quiet, Nullius, be quiet. We must work. You 
 are an expert at counting, Nullius, are you not ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I ? Oh, Rabbi David ! I am myself Numbers, I 
 am myself — Measures and Weights. 
 
act h] ANATHEMA 97 
 
 David. 
 
 Be seated, then; write and count. But there is 
 one more thing, my dear children : I am an old 
 Jew, who can divide a piece of garlic into ten 
 portions. I know not only the need of man, but I 
 saw also how a roach was starving — yes, — I saw 
 also how small children died of hunger. .... 
 Lowers his head and heaves a deep sigh. 
 
 Therefore do not deceive me, and remember that 
 there is a number and a measure for everything. 
 And where ten copecks are needed, do not ask for 
 twenty, and where one measure of grain is needed, 
 do not ask for two, for what is superfluous for 
 one is always essential to another. Like brothers 
 having one mother whose breasts are full but are 
 quickly exhausted, do not abuse one another, and 
 do not offend the generous but careful mother. . . . 
 You may begin. Nullius, is everything ready ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 You may begin. I am waiting, David. 
 
 David. 
 Stand in line, then, I beg you. I have not received 
 the money yet; it is still in America, but I shall 
 write down exactly how much each one of you 
 is to get according to his need. 
 
9 8 ANATHEMA [act ii 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 David, David, what are you doing with us? 
 Look at Rosa, look at poor Naum. 
 
 Naum is dumfounded — he wants to say something, but is 
 unable; he clutches the air with outstretched fingers. 
 A little distance away from him, alone in her youth, 
 strength, and beauty, amidst all these poor people, with 
 emaciated faces and flat breasts, stands Rosa, who looks 
 at her father defiantly. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Are we less your children than these who have 
 been picked up in the street ? And are we not 
 brother and sister to those who died? 
 
 David. 
 
 Rosa is right, mother, — everybody will get the 
 proper share. 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 Yes ? But do you know, father, what is the proper 
 share for everybody ? 
 
 She laughs bitterly and wants to go away. 
 
 David. 
 
 Gently and sadly. 
 Stay here, Rosa ! 
 
act ii] ANATHEMA 99 
 
 Rosa. 
 
 I have nothing to do here. I have heard you 
 call everybody. . . . Oh, you called very loudly ! 
 . . . But did you call the beautiful? I have 
 nothing to do here. 
 
 Goes out. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Rising irresolutely. 
 
 Rosochka ! . . . 
 
 David. 
 
 As gently as before, with a smile. 
 
 Stay here, mother. Where will you go ? You will 
 come with me. 
 
 Naum makes a few steps after Rosa, then he returns and sits 
 down near Sarah. 
 
 David. 
 
 Ready, Nullius? Come over, then, honorable 
 man, you who stand first in the line. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Advancing. 
 
 Here I am, David. 
 
ioo ANATHEMA [act u 
 
 David. 
 
 What is your name ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 My name is Abraham Khessin. ... But have 
 you forgotten my name? You and I played 
 together when we were children. 
 
 David. 
 
 Hush ! It is necessary for the sake of maintaining 
 order, Abraham. Write the name clearly, Nullius. 
 This is the first who waited for me and upon whom 
 the will of my God has manifested itself. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Writes carefully. 
 
 Number one. ... I'll rule the paper later, 
 David. Number one : Abraham Khessin. . . . 
 
 Naum. 
 In a low voice. 
 
 Mamma, I will not dance any more. 
 Curtain. 
 
ACT THREE 
 
 The same dust-covered road, with the bent posts and the old, 
 deserted sentinel-box; the same little shops. The sun 
 is burning as mercilessly as when Anathema first 
 appeared there. 
 
 A large number of poor people are gathered there to welcome 
 David Leizer, who had distributed his fortune among 
 the poor. The air is rent by shouting, motion, and 
 merry bustling. Purikes, Bezkrainy, and Sonka, 
 happy now, and proud of their shops, are doing a 
 brisk business in soda-water and candies. Sarah 
 Leizer is sitting as before near her little shop, dressed 
 neatly but poorly. 
 
 A solemn welcome is arranged for David and Anathema, 
 who had gone to the seashore. All the little shops, 
 even the posts and the deserted sentinel-box, are 
 decorated with parti-colored rags and with branches 
 of trees; on the right side of the road, upon the 
 scorched grass, an orchestra is preparing to meet 
 David — several Jews with various instruments, 
 among which there are: a good violin, cymbals, a 
 broken brass trumpet, and even a drum, slightly broken. 
 The members of the orchestra are scolding one another 
 criticizing each other's instruments. 
 
 There are a number of children in the crowd. Also, little 
 babes in arms. Abraham Khessin and those who were 
 
102 ANATHEMA [act iii 
 
 in line when David started to distribute his money 
 are there; a little distance away from the crowd 
 stands the stern organ-grinder, with his organ. 
 
 Young Jew. 
 
 Blowing his crushed trumpet. 
 
 But why does it play only on one side? Such a 
 good trumpet. 
 
 Violinist. 
 
 Agitated. 
 
 What do you want to do with me ? How can you 
 welcome David Leizer with such a trumpet? 
 You might as well have brought along a cat and 
 pulled her by the tail, and think that David would 
 call you his son ' 
 
 Young Jew. 
 
 Obstinately. 
 
 It's a good trumpet. My father played it when 
 he was in the army, and everybody was thankful 
 to him. 
 
 Violinist. 
 
 Your father played it, but who sat upon it ? Why 
 is it so crushed? How can you welcome David 
 Leizer with such a crushed trumpet ? 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 103 
 
 Young Jew. 
 
 With tears. 
 
 It's a very good trumpet. 
 
 Violinist. 
 
 To a clean-shaven old man. 
 
 Is that your drum? Tell me, do you seriously 
 believe that this is a drum? Have you ever 
 seen another drum with a hole big enough for a 
 dog to crawl through ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Don't get excited, Leibke. You are a very talented 
 man, and your music will be fine, and David Leizer 
 will be greatly moved by it. 
 
 Violinist. 
 
 But I can't bear it. You are a very honorable 
 man, Abraham Khessin, you have lived long in the 
 world, but have you ever seen such a big hole in 
 a drum ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 No, Leibke, I haven't seen such a big hole, but that 
 is not at all important. David Leizer was a multi- 
 millionaire, he had twenty million roubles, but he 
 
104 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 is unspoiled and humble, and your love will afford 
 him joy. Does the soul need a drum to be able 
 to express its love? I see here people who have 
 neither drums nor trumpets, and who weep for 
 happiness — their tears are noiseless like the dew. 
 — Rise higher, Leibke, rise a little higher to the 
 sky, and you will not hear any drums there, but 
 therefore you will hear the tears falling. 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 You mustn't quarrel and darken the days of 
 bright happiness, — that would be disagreeable to 
 David. 
 
 A Wanderer is listening to their conversation ; his face is 
 stern and swarthy. His hair and his clothes are covered 
 with dust. He is guarded in his movements, but his 
 eyes, lustreless, stare ahead fixedly, like open windows 
 at night. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 He has brought peace and happiness on earth, and 
 the whole world knows of him already. I have 
 come from distant places, where the people are 
 different from you, and where the customs are 
 different from yours, and only in their suffering and 
 their misery they are your brethren. And there 
 they know already about David Leizer, who 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 105 
 
 distributes bread and happiness, and they bless 
 his name. 
 
 Khessin. 
 Do you hear, Sarah ? 
 
 Wiping his eyes. 
 
 It is of your husband they are speaking, of David 
 Leizer. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 I hear, Abraham, I hear everything. But I hear 
 no longer the voice of Naum who died ; I hear no 
 longer the voice of Rosa. Old man, you have 
 wandered much over the world, and you know even 
 the people that do not resemble us, — have you 
 not met on the road a beautiful girl, the most 
 beautiful of all girls on earth ? 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 She had a daughter, Rosa, a beautiful girl, she ran 
 away from home because she would not give up 
 her share to the poor. Did she take much money 
 along with her, Sarah ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Can there be such a thing as too much money for 
 Rosa? You may as well say that there are too 
 
io6 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 many diamonds in the Czar's crown and too many 
 rays in the sun. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 No, I have not seen your daughter : I am traveling 
 along the highways, and there you can see neither 
 the rich nor the beautiful. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 But perhaps you have seen people gathered, talk- 
 ing enthusiastically about a certain beautiful girl ? 
 That is my daughter, old man. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 No, I have not seen such people. But I have 
 seen other people gathered, speaking about David 
 Leizer, who is distributing bread and happiness. 
 Is it true that your David has healed a woman 
 who was suffering from an incurable disease and 
 was already dying ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 Smiling. 
 
 No, that is not true. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Is it true that David restored sight to a man 
 who was blind from the day of his birth ? 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 107 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Shaking his head. 
 
 No, that is not true. Some one has been deceiving 
 the people who do not resemble us. Only God 
 can perform miracles — David Leizer is only a 
 kind-hearted and worthy man, such as all men 
 who have not forgotten God should be. 
 
 PlIRIKES. 
 
 It is not true, Abraham Khessin. David is not 
 an ordinary man, and he possesses a superhuman 
 power. I know it. 
 
 The crowd that surrounded them is eagerly listening to 
 Purikes. 
 
 Ptjrikes. 
 
 I saw with my own eyes, how the one we regarded 
 as a customer came upon the deserted, sunny road, 
 but he was not a customer. I saw with my own 
 eyes how he touched David with his hand, and 
 David started to speak so terribly that I could 
 not listen to him. Do you remember it, Ivan ? 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 That's true. David is not an ordinary man. 
 
108 ANATHEMA [act in 
 
 SONKA. 
 
 Does an ordinary man throw money at people, 
 like stones at a dog ? Does an ordinary man go to 
 weep over the grave of another's child, whom he 
 did not bring forth, whom he did not fondle, and 
 whom he did not bury when death came ? 
 
 Woman. 
 
 With child in her arms. 
 
 David is not an ordinary man. Who ever saw an 
 ordinary man who was more a mother to a child 
 than his own mother? Who hides behind the 
 bed-curtain and watches how other people's 
 children are eating, and who weeps for joy at the 
 sight of them ? Of whom even the tiniest children 
 are not afraid, and they play with his venerable 
 beard as with the beard of their grandfather? 
 Did not the stupid little Rubin tear out a tuft of 
 grey hair from David Leizer's venerable beard? 
 Did David grow angry ? Did he cry out for pain, 
 did he stamp his feet ? No, he began to laugh as if 
 overcome with happiness, and he cried as though 
 for joy. 
 
 Drunkard. 
 
 David is not an ordinary man. He is a queer 
 fellow. I said to him : " Why do you give me 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 109 
 
 money ? It is true, I am barefooted and unwashed, 
 but do not think that I will buy boots and soap for 
 the money you give me. I'll spend it on drink in 
 the nearest dram-shop." That's what I had to 
 tell him, for although I am a drunkard, I am an 
 honest man. And the queer David answered me 
 jestingly, like a good-natured lunatic : " Semyon, 
 if it pleases you to drink, please drink, — I have not 
 come to teach the people but to bring them joy." 
 
 Old Jew. 
 
 There are many teachers, but there is none to bring 
 them joy. May God bless David who brings joy 
 to mankind. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 To the drunkard. 
 
 So you didn't buy any boots, did you ? 
 
 Drunkard. 
 No, I am an honest man. 
 
 Violinist. 
 
 In despair. 
 
 Well, tell me all, you who have any conscience: 
 Is this the kind of music that should greet him 
 who brings joy to mankind ? I am ashamed that 
 
no ANATHEMA [act ni 
 
 I have gotten together such a poor orchestra, and 
 I would rather die than disgrace myself before 
 David. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 To the organ-grinder. 
 
 Will you also play ? You have such a fine organ 
 now that even angels might dance to your music. 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 I will. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 But why have you no monkey ? 
 
 Organ-grinder. 
 
 I couldn't find a good monkey. All the monkeys 
 I have seen are either old, or mean, or altogether 
 untalented, and are even unable to catch fleas. 
 The fleas have already destroyed one of my mon- 
 keys, and I don't want another monkey destroyed 
 that way. - A monkey needs talent, just like a man, 
 — it isn't enough to have a tail, even to be a 
 monkey. 
 The wanderer is questioning Khessin in a low voice. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 Tell me the truth, Jew : I was sent here by my 
 
act m] ANATHEMA in 
 
 people, and I walked many miles on my old legs, 
 under the mercilessly scorching sun, for the 
 purpose of learning the truth. Who is this David 
 who brings joy to mankind. Let it be as you 
 say that he does not heal the sick. . . . 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 It is a sin and an offence against God to think 
 that a human being can heal. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Be it so. But is it not true that Leizer wants to 
 build an enormous palace of white stone and blue 
 glass and gather together all the poor of the world 
 there ? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 In embarrassment. 
 
 I do not know. Is it possible to build such a large 
 palace ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 With conviction. 
 
 It is possible. Is it true that he wants to take away 
 the power from the rich and bestow it upon the 
 poor? {In a whisper.) And to take the power 
 from those who rule, the might from those who 
 
ii2 ANATHEMA [act in 
 
 are in command, and distribute it among all the 
 people on earth, giving an equal share to each of 
 them? 
 
 Khessin. 
 I do not know 
 
 Timidly. 
 
 You frighten me, old man. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Looking around cautiously. 
 
 And is it true that he has already sent heralds 
 to the black people that they, too, shall prepare 
 themselves to accept the new kingdom, for he wants 
 to bestow the power equally upon the black as upon 
 the white, giving to each one according to his 
 desire. {In a mysterious whisper.) 
 
 In accordance with justice. 
 
 On the road appears David Leizer, walking slowly; in his 
 right hand, a staff; Anathema is holding his left arm 
 reverently. There is agitation and conjusion among 
 the waiting crowd: the musicians rush for their 
 instruments; the women pick up their children quickly. 
 They shout: "He's coming! He's coming I" They 
 call: "Moishe, Petya, Sarah/" 
 
 Wanderer. 
 And is it true . . . 
 
act hi] ANATHEMA 113 
 
 Khessin. 
 Ask him. Here he is corning. 
 
 Noticing the crowd, Anathema stops David, who is absorbed 
 in thought, and he points triumphantly to the people. 
 Thus they stand for some time: David with his grey 
 head thrown back, and Anathema clinging close to 
 him. Anathema whispers something in David's ear 
 and keeps on pointing with his left hand. Leibke, 
 bustling about desperately, gets his orchestra together 
 and they begin to play a lively wild tune which is as 
 discordant as the fluttering parti-colored rags. Shout- 
 ing, laughter, the children are rushing forward, some 
 one is crying; many people ate outstretching their 
 hands prayerfully to David. Then David moves 
 forward amidst this chaos of lively sounds. The 
 crowd makes room for him to pass ; many throw 
 branches and twigs on the ground and spread their 
 clothes before him; women tear of their head-dress and 
 throw it at his feet on the dusty road. Thus he walks 
 over to Sarah, who rises and welcomes him together 
 with the other women. The music stops. But David 
 is silent. Confusion. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Why are you silent, David ? The people you have 
 made happy are greeting you and spreading their 
 clothing before you on the ground, for their love 
 is great and their hearts cannot comprise all their 
 joy. Say a word to them — they are waiting. 
 
ii4 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 David remains standing, with lowered eyes; with both hands 
 he is leaning on his staff; his face is stern and serious. 
 Anathema looks at him, over his shoulder, with alarm. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 They are waiting for you, David. Say unto them 
 a word of joy and calm their love. 
 
 David is silent. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Why are you silent, David? You frighten us. 
 Are you not the David who brings joy to mankind ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Impatiently. 
 
 Speak, David. Their agitated ears are waiting 
 for a word of joy and by your silence, which is like 
 the dumbness of the rock, you crush their soul to 
 the earth. Speak ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Lifting his eyes and surveying the crowd sternly. 
 
 Wherefore these honors and the noise of voices, 
 and the music which plays so loudly ? To whom 
 do you render honors worthy of a prince or of one 
 who has performed a great deed ? Is it before me, 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 115 
 
 before a poor old man who must die soon, that 
 you spread out your clothes upon the ground? 
 What have I done to deserve your delight and 
 exultation, to force tears of senseless joy from your 
 eyes ? I gave you money and bread — but that 
 was the money of the Uppermost, it came from Him 
 and went back to Him through you. The only 
 thing I have done was not to hide the money like 
 a thief, I did not become a plunderer, like those 
 who have forgotten God. Do I speak properly, 
 Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 No, David, no. Your speech is not worthy of a 
 wise man and it does not come forth from the lips 
 of a humble man. 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 Bread without love is like grass without salt, — 
 the stomach may be rilled, 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 ! 
 
n6 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 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 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 117 
 
 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 laugh- 
 ing 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. 
 
n8 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 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 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 119 
 
 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. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! They are crying. Don't dis- 
 turb their crying. Hush ! hush ! 
 
 Anathema, on tiptoe, whispers : "Hush, hush!" Then he 
 goes over to the musicians and speaks to them in a 
 low voice, conducting with his hand. Little by little 
 the noise grows louder. Bezkrainy, Purikes, and 
 Sonka are waiting, holding filled glasses in their 
 hands. 
 
 David. 
 
 Returns and wipes his eyes with his kerchief. 
 
 Here is your child, woman. We don't like him 
 at all, do we, Sarah? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Weeping. 
 
 We have no children any longer, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 No, no, Sarah ! But are not all the children in 
 the world our children? He has no children 
 
120 ANATHEMA [act m 
 
 who has three, six, or even twelve, but not he who 
 knows not their number. 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 Drink a glass of soda-water, honorable David 
 Leizer — it is your water. 
 
 PURIKES. 
 
 Drink a glass of mine, David, — this will bring 
 me customers. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Drink a glass of noblemen's cider, David. Now 
 it is real noblemen's cider. I can say it frankly ; 
 with your money everything is becoming real. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Through tears. 
 
 I have always told you that your cider was bad, 
 Ivan. And now, when it is real cider, you do 
 not offer it to me. 
 
 Oh, Sarah . . 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 David. 
 
 She is jesting, Ivan. Thank you, but I cannot 
 drink so much, — I will taste everybody's. It's 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 121 
 
 very, very good water, Sonka. You have dis- 
 covered the secret and you will soon grow rich. 
 
 Sonka. 
 I put a little more soda into the water, David. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 To Anathema, in a low voice. 
 
 Is it true — you are a close friend of David 
 Leizer's, and you can tell it to me — is it true that 
 he wants to build — 
 
 Anathema. 
 Why so loud? Let us step aside. 
 
 They speak in a whisper. Anathema shakes his head nega- 
 tively. He is truthful. He smiles and pais the old man 
 on the shoulder. The old man evidently does not believe 
 him. Then Anathema gradually leads the musicians 
 away, also the Organ-grinder and the people beyond 
 the stone pillars. Only the sound of their voices, 
 their exclamations, their laughter are heard. A few 
 remain and speak with David reverently. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Is it true, David, that you and Sarah are going 
 to Jerusalem, to the Holy City, of which we can 
 only dream? 
 
122 ANATHEMA [act in 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, it is true, Abraham. Although I am stronger 
 now and I feel no longer any pain in my chest — ■ 
 
 Khessin. 
 But that is a miracle, David! 
 
 David. 
 
 Joy restores health, Abraham, and the serving 
 of God strengthens a man. But after all, Sarah 
 and I cannot live much longer, and we should like 
 to rest our eyes upon the wonderful beauty of 
 God's land. But why do you address me as a 
 stranger, old friend? Have you not yet for- 
 given me? 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 Oh, do not say that, David ! If you were to 
 tell me : Call me " thou" or kill yourself, I would 
 rather kill myself, but would not say "thou" to 
 you. You are not an ordinary man, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 I am not an ordinary man. I am a happy man. 
 But where is the gay man Nullius? I don't see 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 123 
 
 him. I suppose he is preparing some prank or 
 another — I know him. There is a man who 
 does not darken the face of the earth with gloom, 
 Abraham, who is never averse to laughter, which 
 is to life like dew upon grass, and which sparkles 
 in many colors in the rays of the sun. Of course 
 he is playing his pranks; do you hear? 
 
 Music is playing beyond the pillars; the organ, together 
 with the orchestra, is playing the same tune it had played 
 before. The sounds are discordant, somewhat wild,- 
 but strangely gay. Together with the music the 
 crowd appears in a solemn procession. At the head 
 of the procession, side by side with the Organ-grinder, 
 walks Anathema, as if dancing. He carries the organ 
 on a strap and turns the handle with one hand, keeping 
 time with the other hand, whistling shrilly, and casting 
 glances on all sides and skyward. The musicians and 
 the poor, now gay, follow him. On passing David, 
 Anathema bends his head toward him and keeps on 
 playing and whistling. David, smiling, nods his head 
 and adjusts his grey, long beard. The procession 
 disappears. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With emotion. 
 
 What beautiful music ! How fine, how solemn, 
 David! David, is all this for you? 
 
 David. 
 
 For us, Sarah. 
 
124 ANATHEMA [act m 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 What am I ? I can only love our children. But 
 you, but you — 
 
 With certain fear. 
 
 You are not an ordinary man, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 So, so . . . Well, what am I, then, — a governor ? 
 Or, perhaps, a general ? 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Do not make light of this, David. You are not 
 an ordinary man. 
 
 The Wanderer, who stood near by all the time and saw the 
 solemn procession, now listens to Sar all's words and 
 nods his head. Anathema, gay, somewhat out of 
 breath, appears. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 How was it, David? I think it was not bad. 
 They marched very well — better than I expected. 
 Only that stupid trumpet. 
 
 Dancing, he passes David again, whistling. Then he bursts 
 into laughter. 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 125 
 
 David. 
 
 Good-naturedly, 
 
 Yes, Nullius. The music was very good. I 
 never before heard such fine music. I thank 
 you, Nullius, — you have afforded great pleasure 
 to the people by your gayety. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 To the Wanderer. 
 
 Did you like it, old man ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 I liked it fairly well. But what will happen 
 when all the nations on earth will bend at the 
 feet of David Leizer? 
 
 David. 
 
 Astonished. 
 
 What is he saying, Nullius? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Oh, David, it is very touching : the people are 
 in love with you, even as a bride is in love with 
 the bridegroom. This wonderful man, who has 
 come thousands of miles — 
 
i26 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 More. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Asked me : D oes D avid Leizer perform miracles ? ' ' 
 Well, ... I laughed, I laughed. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 He asked me, too, but to me it was not laughable. 
 The ear of him who waits is keen, — even the 
 stones seem to sing to him. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Only the footsteps of the blind are short, but 
 their thoughts are long. 
 
 He steps aside and watches David. It is near sunset and the 
 earth is in the embrace of shadows. Abraham Khessin 
 bids David farewell and goes away. The shopkeepers 
 prepare to close their shops. Silence and peace. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Breathing with difficulty. 
 
 At last. We have worked quite hard, David — 
 the trumpet alone {closes his ears — what is that 
 worth ? {Candidly) My misfortune is that my ear 
 is keen, unbearably sharp, almost — yes, almost 
 like that of a dog. If I hear — 
 
act ni] ANATHEMA 127 
 
 David. 
 
 I am very tired, Nullius, and I want to rest. I 
 do not feel like seeing any more people to-day, and 
 you will not be offended, my old friend — 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I understand. I will only escort you to your 
 palace. 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, yes, to my palace. According to my con- 
 tract, I am king for six months more. Come, 
 Sarah, — with you alone I want to pass the re- 
 mainder of this great day in peace and joy. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 You are not an ordinary man, David. How 
 did you guess my desire ? 
 
 They go away towards the pillars. David pauses, looks 
 back, and says, leaning upon Sarah's shoulder: 
 
 David. 
 
 Look, Sarah ; this is the place where our life has 
 passed — how sad and poor it is, Sarah, and it 
 breathes of the homelessness of the desert. But was 
 not it here, Sarah, that I learned the great truth 
 concerning the fate of man ? I was poor, alone, and 
 
i 2 8 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 near death, a foolish old man, seeking an answer 
 from the waves. But now people have come — 
 Am I alone now? Am I poor and near death? 
 Listen to me, Nullius ; there is no death for man. 
 What death is there ? What is death ? Who 
 was the mournful one that invented this strange 
 word — Death? Perhaps it does exist, I do not 
 know — but I, Nullius — I am immortal. 
 As though struck, he bends down, but lifts his arms upward. 
 
 Oh, how terrible it is : I am immortal ! Where 
 is the end of the sky ? I have lost it. I am im- 
 mortal ! Oh, the breast of man aches from im- 
 mortality, and his joy burns him like a fire. Where 
 is the end of man ? — I am immortal. Adenoi ! 
 Adenoi ! Blessed be the mysterious name of 
 Him who has given immortality to man, forever 
 and aye. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Hastily. 
 
 The name ! The name ! Do you know the name ? 
 You have deceived me. 
 
 David. 
 
 Not listening to him. 
 
 I give the spirit of man over to the boundless 
 space of Time. May it live immortally, in the 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 129 
 
 immortality of fire. May it live immortally in 
 the immortality of light, which is life. And may 
 darkness stop before the dwelling of immortal 
 light. I am happy, I am immortal — my God ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Ecstatically. 
 
 It is a lie I Oh, how long yet will I listen to this 
 foolish man? North and South, East and West, 
 I am calling you. Quicker, come here, to the 
 aid of the Devil ! Rush over here in four oceans 
 of tears and bury man in your abyss. Come 
 here ! This way ! 
 
 No one heeds Anathema's sobs, neither David, radiant with 
 the ecstasy of immortality, nor Sarah, nor the other 
 people, who listen attentively to David. Anathema 
 moves restlessly about, alone, cursing. A shrill voice is 
 heard; a woman, terribly painted, rushes in from the 
 road. Her clothes are torn, and her beautiful face is 
 disfigured. She screams and sobs and calls wildly. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 My God ! Where is David, who is distributing 
 his fortune ? Two days and two nights, two days 
 and two nights, I have been looking for him all 
 over the city, but the houses are silent and the 
 people are laughing. Tell me, kind people, have 
 
130 ANATHEMA [act m 
 
 you not seen David, who brings joy to the people ? 
 Do not look upon my open bosom — a wicked 
 man tore my clothes and scratched my face. Oh, 
 do not look upon my open bosom : it never knew 
 the happiness of feeding innocent lips. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 David is here. 
 
 Woman. 
 Falling on her knees. 
 
 David is here? Oh, have pity on me, people! do 
 not deceive me; I am blinded by deceit, and 
 falsehoods have made me deaf. Do I hear right ? 
 Is David here ? 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 Yes, there he stands. But you are too late — 
 he has already distributed all his fortune. 
 
 Purikes. 
 He has already distributed all his fortune. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 What are you doing to me, people? Two days 
 and two nights I have been looking for him — 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 131 
 
 the people deceived me, and now I am too late. 
 I will die on the way now — I have nowhere else 
 to go. 
 
 Tearfully, flings herself about on the dust-covered road. 
 
 Anathema. 
 It seems that somebody has come to you, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Advancing. 
 
 What does this woman wish? 
 
 Woman. 
 Without lifting her head. 
 Are you David, who has brought joy to mankind ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 Yes, it is he. 
 
 David. 
 Yes, it is I. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Without lifting her head. 
 
 I do not dare glance at you. You must be like the 
 sun. 
 
 Gently and trustfully. 
 
132 ANATHEMA [act ni 
 
 Oh, David, how long I have been looking for you ! . . . 
 The people kept deceiving me all the time. They 
 told me that you went away, that you do not 
 exist at all, and that you never existed. One 
 man said to me that he was David, and he seemed 
 to be kind, but he treated me like a robber. 
 
 David. 
 Rise! 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Permit me to rest here, at your feet. Like a bird 
 that has crossed the sea, I am beaten by the rain, 
 I am exhausted by the storms, I am tired to death. 
 
 Weeps; continues trustfully. 
 
 Now I am calm, now I am happy : I am at the 
 feet of David, who has brought joy to mankind. 
 
 David. 
 
 Irresolutely. 
 
 But you have come too late, woman. I have 
 already given away everything I had, and I 
 have nothing left. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes. We have distributed all the money. Go 
 home, woman, — we have nothing left. We feel 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 133 
 
 sorry for you, but you are too late. Do you un- 
 derstand ? You are too late, — only this morning 
 we gave away the last penny. 
 
 David. 
 Don't be so cruel, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 But it is the truth, David. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Doubtingly. 
 
 That is impossible ! 
 
 Lifting her eyes. 
 
 Are you David? How kind-hearted you are. 
 Did you say that I am too late? No, he said 
 it — his face is mean. David, please give me 
 some money and save me. I am tired to death. 
 And your name is Sarah? You are his wife? 
 I have heard about you, too. 
 
 Crawls over to her and kisses her dress. 
 
 Woman. 
 Plead for me, Sarah. 
 
134 ANATHEMA [act in 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Weeping. 
 
 Give her some money, David. Get up, my dear; 
 it is very dusty here — you have such beautiful 
 black hair. Sit down here, and rest yourself. 
 David will soon give you money. 
 
 Lifts the woman and seats her near herself upon a rock, and 
 caresses her. 
 
 David. 
 
 What shall I do? 
 
 Confusedly ; wiping his face with a red kerchief. 
 
 What shall I do, Nullius? You are such a wise 
 man, — help me. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Outstretching his arms. 
 
 By God, I do not know. Here is the list — we 
 have not a cent, and I am an honest lawyer, not 
 a counterfeiter. I can't bring you every day an 
 inheritance from America. 
 
 Whistles. 
 
 I have nothing to do, so I roam about the 
 world. 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 135 
 
 David. 
 
 Indignantly. 
 
 That is cruel, Nullius. I did not expect it from 
 you. But what shall I do? what shall I do? 
 
 Anathema shrugs his shoulders. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Sit here, my dear; I will come back soon. David, 
 let us step aside; I must tell you something. 
 
 They step aside and whisper. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Did they beat you hard, woman ? Evidently the 
 man who was beating you was not skillful — he 
 did not knock your eyes out, as he wanted to do. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Covering her face with her hair. 
 Do not look upon me ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 Nullius, come over here. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Goes to her. 
 
 Here I am, madam Leizer. 
 
136 ANATHEMA [act in 
 
 David. 
 
 In a low voice. 
 
 How much money have we for our journey to 
 Jerusalem ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Three hundred roubles. 
 
 David. 
 Give it to the woman. 
 
 Smiling and crying. 
 
 Sarah does not want to go to Jerusalem. She 
 
 wants to continue in business here until death 
 
 comes. What a foolish woman, Nullius, isn't 
 
 she? 
 
 Cries restrainedly. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Does that cause you much pain, David? Were 
 you so eager to go? 
 
 David. 
 
 What a foolish woman, Nullius. She does not 
 understand that I also want to remain in busi- 
 ness here. 
 Cries, 
 
act m] ANATHEMA 137 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Moved. 
 
 You are not an ordinary man, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 It was my dream, Nullius, to die in the Holy 
 City and to join my dust to the dust of the right- 
 eous people buried there. But (he smiles) is not 
 the ground everywhere kind to its dead ? Give 
 the money to the poor woman. Well, Sarah, how 
 shall it be? We must open a store and learn 
 from Sonka how to make good soda-water. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Triumphantly. 
 
 Woman, David, who has brought joy to mankind, 
 gives you money and happiness. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 
 To Sonka. 
 
 I told you that he has not distributed all his 
 money. He has millions. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Listening. 
 
 That's right. How could David give away every- 
 thing? He only started to give away. 
 
138 ANATHEMA [act hi 
 
 The woman thanks David and Sarah; he places his hands 
 upon her head, as though blessing her. Behind him, 
 from the side of the field, something grey appears, 
 dust-covered, moving slowly. They move silently, and 
 it is hard to discern at first that they are human 
 beings. The grey dust has equalized them — their 
 distress and their suffering have made them brethren. 
 There is something alarming in their dull, inflexible 
 movement — and the people look upon them uneasily. 
 
 Bezkrainy. 
 Who is coming there on the road ? 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 Something grey is crawling along the road. If 
 they are human beings, they do not look like 
 human beings. 
 
 PURIKES. 
 
 Oh, I am afraid for David. He stands with his 
 back toward them, and does not see them. And 
 they are coming like blind people. 
 
 Sonka. 
 
 They will soon crush him. David, David, turn 
 around and look 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 It is too late, Sonka, — David can't hear you now. 
 
act in] ANATHEMA 139 
 
 PlJRIKES. 
 
 But who is that ? I am afraid of them. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 These are our people ! These are blind people 
 from our land, — they have come to David for 
 their eyesight. 
 
 Loudly. 
 
 Stop, stop! you have reached your destination. 
 David is in your midst. 
 
 The blind, almost crushing the frightened David, pause and 
 seek him with their fingers. 
 
 The Blind. 
 
 Where is David ? Help us to find David. Where 
 is David, who brings joy to mankind ? He is here. 
 I feel him already with my fingers. Are you 
 David? Where is David? Where is David? 
 Are you David? 
 
 David. 
 
 Frightened voices come out of the darkness. 
 
 It is I — I am David Leizer. What is it you 
 wish of me? 
 
140 ANATHEMA [act m 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Weeping. 
 
 David, David, where are you ? I don't see you. 
 
 The Blind. 
 
 Closing in around him. 
 
 Here is David. Are you David ? David ! David ! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
ACT FOUR. 
 
 A large, high, somewhat dark room — David's study in the 
 rich villa where he spends his last days. Two large 
 windows in the room : one overlooking the road to the 
 city; the other, on the left, overlooking the garden. 
 Near this window, a large writing-table, covered 
 with papers in disorder — sheets of paper of various 
 sizes, and large books. Under the table, and near it, 
 paper torn into small bits. A large Bible, bound in old 
 leather, lies on the floor, open, with its back upward, 
 resembling the roof of a house which is falling apart. 
 Notwithstanding the heat, there is a fire in the fire- 
 place. David Leizer feels cold and feverish. 
 
 It is growing dark. Through the lowered blinds, faint sun- 
 light comes in, but it is already dark in the room. 
 Only the small lamp on the table brings out into bold 
 relief the white heads of David and Anathema. 
 
 David is sitting by the table. His hair and beard, unkempt 
 for some time, lend him a savage and terrible appear- 
 ance; his face is emaciated, his eyes are wide open; 
 clasping his head with both hands, he stares fixedly 
 through his large spectacles, examines a paper, throws 
 it aside, takes up another paper, and nervously turns 
 the leaves of a heavy volume. 
 
 Anathema stands near him, holding the back of his arm-chair. 
 He is motionless, thoughtful, and stem. 
 141 
 
142 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 The windows are closed, but through the closed windows 
 comes the muffled noise of many voices. It increases 
 slowly, wavering in force and impassionateness. 
 Those who had been called by David are now besieging 
 his house. Silence. 
 
 David. 
 
 It has crumbled away into dust, Nullius ! The 
 mountain that reached the sky has split into 
 rocks, the rocks have turned into dust, and the 
 wind has carried the dust away. Where is the 
 mountain, Nullius ? Where are the millions which 
 you brought me? Here I have been looking for 
 an hour through my papers for one copeck, only 
 one copeck, that I may give it to him who asks 
 for it, but I cannot find it. What is lying around 
 there ? t 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 The Bible. 
 
 David. 
 
 No, no, I mean there, among the papers. Let 
 me have it. I think it is an account I haven't 
 examined yet. That would be good luck, Nullius ! 
 
 Stares intently. 
 
 No, it is all crossed out here. Look, Nullius, 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 143 
 
 look! A hundred, then fifty, then twenty, — 
 and then one copeck. But I cannot take this co- 
 peck away from him, can I? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Six, eight, twenty, — correct. 
 
 Davtd. 
 
 No, no, Nullius, — one hundred, fifty — twenty, 
 — one copeck. It has all melted away, it slipped 
 through my fingers like water. And the ringers 
 are dry already — and I feel cold, Nullius ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 It is warm here. 
 
 David. 
 
 I say it is cold here, Nullius. Throw some logs 
 of wood into the fireplace. . . . No, wait. How 
 much does a log cost ? Oh, it costs a great deal ; 
 put it away, Nullius, — this accursed fire is devour- 
 ing wood so quickly, as though it did not know that 
 every log of wood is — a life. Wait, Nullius. . . . 
 You have a splendid memory, you never forget 
 anything, like a book — don't you remember how 
 much I designated for Abraham Khessin? 
 
144 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 Anathema. 
 At first, five hundred. 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, yes, Nullius, of course, — he is an old friend 
 of mine; we used to play together. And for a 
 friend five hundred is not much at all. Of course, 
 he is an old friend of mine, and I must have pitied 
 him and left to him more than to the others in the 
 end — for our friendship is such a tender feeling, 
 Nullius. But it is bad if a man wrongs strangers 
 and distant people on account of a friend — for 
 they have no friends or protection. And we 
 will cut down Abraham Khessin's allowance, 
 we will cut it down just a little bit. . . . 
 With fear. 
 
 Tell me, how much have I now allowed for Abra- 
 ham? 
 
 One copeck. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 David. 
 
 Impossible ! Tell me that you have made an 
 error ! Have pity on me, and tell me that you 
 have made an error, Nullius ! It cannot be — 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 145 
 
 Abraham is my friend — we used to play together. 
 Do you understand what it means when children 
 play together, and then they grow up and they 
 have grey beards, and they smile together at the 
 past? You have also a grey beard, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes, my beard is grey. You allowed one copeck 
 for Khessin. 
 
 David. 
 
 Takes Anathema by the arm; in a whisper. 
 
 But she said that her child would die, Nullius, — 
 that he is dying already. Understand me, my 
 old friend, I must have money. You are such 
 a fine man, you are {pats his arm) such a kind 
 man, you remember everything, like a book, — 
 search a little more. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Bethink yourself, David; your reason is betray- 
 ing you. It is already two days that you have 
 been sitting here at this table, looking for that 
 which is no more. Go out to the people who 
 are waiting for you, tell them that you have 
 nothing left, and dismiss them. 
 
146 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 David. 
 
 Angrily. 
 
 But did I not go out ten times already to the people 
 and did I not tell them that I have nothing left ? 
 Did a single one of them go away? They stand 
 and wait there, and they are firm in their misery, 
 like a rock, obstinate like the child at the mother's 
 breast. Does a child ask whether there is milk 
 in the mother's breast ? When I speak, they are 
 silent and they listen to me like reasonable people ; 
 but when I become silent, the spirit of despair 
 and want seizes upon them and wails in a thousand 
 voices. Did I not give everything away to them, 
 Nullius ? Did I not cry out all my tears ? Did 
 I not give them away all the blood of my heart ? 
 What are they waiting for, Nullius? What do 
 they want of the poor Jew, who has already 
 exhausted his life? . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 They are waiting for a miracle, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Rising, with fear. 
 
 Be silent, Nullius, be silent, — you are tempting 
 God. Who am I that I should perform miracles ? 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 147 
 
 Bethink yourself, Nullius. Can I make two co- 
 pecks of one ? Can I come over to the mountains 
 and say : " Mountains of the earth, turn into 
 mountains of bread and satisfy the hunger of the 
 hungry " ? Can I come over to the ocean and 
 say : " Sea of water as salty as tears, turn into a 
 sea of milk and honey and quench the thirst of 
 the thirsty " ? Think of it, Nullius ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Did you see the blind ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Only once did I dare lift my eyes, — but I saw 
 strange, grey people, into whose eyes some one 
 had spat something white, and they feel the air 
 as if it were a danger, and they fear the earth 
 as though it were a horror. What do they want, 
 Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Did you see the sick and the maimed, with organs 
 of the body missing, — did you see them crawl 
 on the ground? Out of the pores of the earth 
 they come like a perspiration of blood — the earth 
 is of them. 
 
148 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 David. 
 
 Be silent, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Did you see people who are devoured by their 
 conscience : their face is dark, as though scorched 
 by fire, and their eyes are surrounded with white 
 rings, and they run about in a circle like mad 
 horses? Did you see people who look straight 
 ahead, and in their hands they hold long staffs 
 for measuring the road? These are the people 
 searching after truth. 
 
 David. 
 I dared not look any further. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Did you hear the voice of the earth, David? 
 
 Enter Sarah; she advances to David timidly. 
 
 David. 
 
 Is that you, Sarah? Shut the door tightly, do 
 not leave a crevice behind you. What is it you 
 wish, Sarah ? 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 149 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 With fear and faith. 
 
 Are you not entirely prepared yet, David ? Make 
 haste and go out to the people: they are tired 
 of waiting and many of them fear death. Dis- 
 miss these, for others are coming, David, and soon 
 there will be no place for a man to stand. The 
 water has already given out in the fountains and 
 they are not bringing any bread from the city, 
 as you have ordered, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Uplifting his hands; horrified. 
 
 Awaken, Sarah, sleep has enmeshed you in nets 
 
 of cunning and your heart is poisoned with the 
 
 madness of love. It is I, David ! . . . 
 
 With fear. 
 
 And I did not command to bring bread. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 If you are not quite ready, David, they can wait. 
 But order lamps lighted and give bedding for the 
 women and the children, — for night will soon set 
 in and the earth will grow cold. And order them 
 to give milk to the children — they are starved. 
 There, in the distance, we have heard the sound 
 of innumerable footsteps : are those not herds 
 
150 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 of cows and goats, full of milk, driven here at 
 your command? 
 
 David. 
 
 Hoarsely. 
 
 Oh, my God, my God ! . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 In a low voice, to Sarah. 
 
 Go away, Sarah : David is praying. Do not dis- 
 turb his prayer. 
 
 Sarah goes away timidly and cautiously. 
 
 David. 
 Mercy ! Mercy ! 
 
 The noise outside the windows subsides. Suddenly it is 
 heard again: Sarah had notified them that they must 
 wait. 
 
 David. 
 Mercy ! Mercy ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 In a commanding tone. 
 
 David, be a man in the face of the great fear. 
 Did you not call them here? Did you not call 
 loudly, in a voice of love, to the silence and the 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 151 
 
 darkness where unspeakable horror dwells? And 
 now they have come to you — North and South, 
 East and West, and like four oceans of tears they 
 have stretched themselves at your feet. Rise, 
 David! 
 
 Davtd. 
 What shall I do, Nullius? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Tell them the truth. 
 
 David. 
 
 What shall I do, Nullius? Shall I perhaps take 
 a rope and, hanging it upon a tree, strangle my- 
 self like the one who had once betrayed? Am 
 I, perhaps, a traitor, having called them and not 
 given anything to them, and loving them in order 
 to destroy them ? Oh, how my heart is aching ! . . . 
 Oh, how my heart is aching, Nullius ! Oh, I feel as 
 cold as the ground that is covered with ice, and 
 within it there is heat and white flame. Oh, 
 Nullius, have you seen the white flame on which 
 the moon turns dark and the sun burns like yellow 
 straw ? 
 He tosses about. 
 Hide me, Nullius. Is there not a dark room, 
 
152 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 where the light does not penetrate ? are there 
 not strong walls through which I would not hear 
 these voices ? Whither are they calling me ? 
 I am a sick old man, I cannot endure and suffer so 
 long — I myself had small children, and did they 
 not die? What were their names, Nullius? I 
 have forgotten. Who is it they call David, the 
 man who has brought joy to mankind? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 That was your name, David Leizer. You are 
 deceived, Leizer. You are deceived even as I 
 am deceived ! 
 
 David. 
 
 With entreaty. 
 
 Protect me, Nullius. Go out to them and tell 
 them aloud, so they all can hear: " David Leizer 
 is a sick old man, and he has nothing left." They 
 will listen to you, Nullius, — you have such a 
 respectful appearance, — and they will return to 
 their homes. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Yes, yes, David. You see the truth already, 
 and you will soon proclaim it to the people. Ha, 
 
act rv] ANATHEMA 153 
 
 ha ! Who said that David Leizer could perform 
 miracles ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Folding his arms. 
 Yes, yes, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Who dares demand miracles of Leizer? Is he 
 not a sick old man, — mortal like all the rest ? 
 
 David. 
 Yes, yes, Nullius, — a man. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Did not love deceive Leizer ? It said to him : "I 
 shall do everything," — and it raised only dust on 
 the road like the blind wind from behind a corner, 
 which bursts in noisily and lies down quietly, 
 which blinds the eyes and stirs up the dust. 
 Let us go, then, to Him who gave love to David, 
 and ask Him : " Wherefore did you deceive our 
 brother David ?" 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, yes, Nullius ! Of what good is love to man 
 if it is powerless ? Of what good is life if there 
 is no immortality? 
 
i 5 4 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Rapidly. 
 
 Go out and tell this to them, — they will listen 
 to you. They will lift their voice to Heaven — 
 and we shall hear the answer of Heaven, David ! 
 Tell them the truth and you will stir up the earth. 
 
 David. 
 
 I am going, Nullius. And I will tell them the 
 truth — I have never lied. Open the doors, Nul- 
 lius. 
 
 Anathema quickly throws the door open and respectfully 
 allows David to pass to the balcony. David walks 
 slowly, with an air of importance. Then Anathema 
 closes the door behind David. The noise suddenly 
 subsides, a deathlike silence sets in, and David } s 
 quivering voice is heard faintly. Anathema dances 
 about the room in a fit of ecstasy. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Ah ! you would not listen to me, — now listen to 
 them. Ah ! you forced me to crawl on my 
 belly like a dog. You would not permit me to 
 glimpse even through a crevice ! . . . You laughed 
 at me in your silence ! . . . You tortured me 
 by your motionlessness. Listen, then, and answer, 
 if you can. It is not the Devil who speaks to 
 
act rv] ANATHEMA 155 
 
 you, it is not the son of Dawn who raises his voice, 
 — it is man, it is your favorite son, your care, 
 your love, your tenderness, and your proud hope, 
 that is wriggling under your foot like a worm. 
 Well? You are silent? Lie to him by your 
 thunder, deceive him with your Hghtning, — how 
 dares he look into the heavens? Let him, like 
 Anathema — 
 Wailing. 
 
 The poor, offended Anathema, who is crawling 
 on his belly like a dog. . . . 
 
 Furiously. 
 
 Let man crawl back again to his dark hole, let 
 him decay in silence, bury himself in gloom, where 
 unspeakable horror dwells. 
 
 A myriad-voiced sound is heard from outside the windows. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Do you hear? 
 
 Sarcastically. 
 
 It is not I. It is they. Six, eight, twenty — 
 correct. It is always correct with the Devil. . . . 
 
 The door opens and David, horror-stricken, runs in. A shout 
 is heard behind him. David closes the door and holds 
 it with his shoulder. 
 
156 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 David. 
 
 Help, Nullius ! They will soon break in — the 
 door is not strong; they will break it. 
 
 Anathema. 
 What do they say? 
 
 David. 
 
 They do not believe me, Nullius. They ask for 
 a miracle. But do the dead also shout ? — I saw 
 the dead they have brought here. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Furiously. 
 
 Then lie to them, Jew ! 
 
 David goes away from the door and says mysteriously, with 
 confusion and fear: 
 
 David. 
 
 Do you know, Nullius, something is going on 
 within me, — I have nothing, — but here I went 
 out to them, I saw them and suddenly I felt that 
 it is not true — I do have something. And I 
 spoke, but I did not believe it myself; I spoke, 
 and yet I felt that I stood with them and shouted 
 against myself, and demanded angrily. . . . With 
 my lips I declare that I have nothing, and with 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 157 
 
 my heart I promise them, and with my eyes I 
 cry out, Yes, yes, yes ! What shall I do, Nullius ? 
 Tell me, are you sure that I have nothing? 
 
 Anathema smiles. Sarah's voice is heard behind the door 
 on the right; a knock at the door. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Let me in, David. 
 
 David. 
 Do not open the door, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 It is your wife, Sarah. 
 
 He opens the door. Sarah enters, leading by the hand a 
 pale-faced woman who is carrying something in her 
 arms. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Meekly. 
 
 Forgive me, David. But this woman says that 
 she cannot wait any more. She says that if you 
 delay any longer, she will not recognize her child 
 when he is revived. If it is necessary for you 
 to know his name, it is Moishe, little Moishe. 
 He is a dark little one, — I looked at him. 
 
158 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Falling down on her knees. 
 
 Forgive me, David, for breaking the line and 
 not waiting for my turn. But there are those 
 who died but a little while ago, while I am carry- 
 ing him already three days and three nights 
 on my breast. Perhaps it is necessary for you 
 to take a look at him ? Then I will uncover him 
 — I am not deceiving you, David. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 I have looked at him already, David. She let 
 me hold him awhile. She is very tired, David. 
 
 David retreats slowly, the palms of his hands outstretched 
 forward. He moves thus until he reaches the wall. 
 
 David. 
 Mercy ! Mercy ! 
 
 Both women wait patiently. 
 
 David. 
 
 What shall I do ? I am fainting, O God ! Nul- 
 lius, tell them that I do not resurrect the dead ! 
 
 Woman. 
 
 I implore you, David ! Do I ask you to restore 
 life to an old man who has lived long and who 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 159 
 
 has deserved death for his evil deeds? Do I 
 not understand whom it is possible to resurrect and 
 whom it is not possible to resurrect? But per- 
 haps it is hard for you because he is dead so long. 
 I did not know this, — forgive me. And when 
 he was dying, I promised him: "Moishe, do not 
 be afraid to die — David, who brings joy to man- 
 kind, will restore your little life to you." 
 
 David. 
 
 Show him to me. 
 
 Looks at him, shaking his head, and weeps, wiping his eyes 
 with his red kerchief. Sarah looks at him confidently, 
 leaning on his shoulder. 
 
 Sarah. 
 How old was he ? 
 
 Woman. 
 Two years, going on the third. 
 
 David turns his tear-stained face to Anathema and says in a 
 strange voice : 
 
 David. 
 Shall I make an attempt, perhaps, Nullius? 
 
 Suddenly he bends down and cries hoarsely : 
 
 Adenoi ! . . . Adenoi ! . . . Begone ! Begone ! 
 The Devil has sent you here. Tell them, Nullius, 
 
160 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 that I do not resurrect the dead. They have 
 come to mock me ! Look, they are both laugh- 
 ing there. Begone ! Begone ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 In a low voice, to Sarah. 
 
 Go away, Sarah, and lead the woman away. 
 David is not quite ready yet. 
 
 Sarah. 
 In a whisper. 
 
 I will take her to my room. Later you may tell 
 
 David that she is there. 
 
 To the woman. 
 
 Come, woman, — David is not quite ready yet. 
 
 They go out. David, exhausted, sits down in an arm-chair 
 and lowers his grey head. He reads something softly. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 They have gone, David. Do you hear ? They 
 have gone away. 
 
 David. 
 
 Nullius, did you see? It was a dead child. 
 Moishe. . . . Yes, yes, Moishe, a dark little one ; 
 we looked at him. . . . {Loudly, in despair.) What 
 shall I do? Teach me, Nullius. 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 161 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Quickly. 
 
 Flee! 
 
 Listens to what is going on outside the window, nods his head 
 affirmatively, and advances to David cautiously, like 
 a conspirator ; David waits for him, with his arms 
 folded as in prayer, a confident smile on his lips. 
 His back is bent, and he frequently takes his red kerchief 
 from his pocket, but does not know what to do with it. 
 
 Anathema. 
 In a whisper. 
 
 We must flee, David, flee ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Joyously. 
 
 Yes, yes, Nullius, — we must flee. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I shall hide you in a dark room which no one 
 knows of ; when they fall asleep, tired of waiting 
 and hungry, I shall lead you through the sleeping 
 people — and will save you. 
 
 David. 
 
 Joyously. 
 
 Yes, yes, save me. 
 
162 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 And they will be waiting ! In their sleep they 
 will wait and dream dreams of great expectations 
 — and you will not be here any longer ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Nodding his head joyously. 
 
 And I shall not be here any longer, Nullius ! And 
 I shall have fled already, Nullius ! 
 
 Laughs. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Laughing. 
 
 And you will not be here any longer ! You will 
 have fled ! Let them speak to Heaven then. 
 
 They look at each other and laugh. 
 
 Anathema. 
 In a friendly tone. 
 
 Wait for me, David. I shall go out at once and 
 see whether the house is still surrounded. They 
 are such madmen ! 
 
 Davtd. 
 
 Yes, yes, look. They are such madmen ! Mean- 
 while I shall prepare myself, Nullius. ... But I 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 163 
 
 ask you, do not leave me here all alone for a 
 long time. 
 
 Anathema goes out. David goes cautiously on tiptoe to the 
 window and wants to look out, but he dares not; he 
 goes to the table and is frightened by the scattered 
 sheets of paper ; he moves cautiously to the corner where 
 his clothes are. He dresses hastily, mixing up his 
 clothes. For a long time he does not know what to do 
 with his beard; suddenly he pushes it under his coat 
 and hides it with his collar. 
 
 David. 
 
 Muttering. 
 
 Yes, yes. I must hide my beard. All the children 
 know my beard. . . . But why did they not tear 
 it out? Yes, yes, my beard. . . . But what a black 
 coat ! It does not matter, you will hide it. That's 
 the way. Rosa had a mirror. . . . But Rosa ran 
 away, and Naum also died, and Sarah — oh, 
 but why does not Nullius come? Does he not 
 hear how they are shouting? . . . 
 
 A knock on the door. 
 
 David. 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 Who is there? David Leizer is not here. 
 
164 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 It is I, David; let me in. 
 
 Anathema enters. 
 
 David. 
 
 Well, Nullius, — it is impossible to recognize me 
 now, is it not ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Very good, David. But I don't know how we 
 can get out. Sarah has rilled the house with 
 guests : in every room the blind and the maimed 
 are waiting for you with a pleasant smile; there 
 are also dead people there, David. Your Sarah 
 is a splendid woman, but she is too much of a 
 hostess, David, and she intends to build up a 
 fine household on miracles. 
 
 David. 
 But she must not do it, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Many people are already sleeping at your doors, 
 smiling in their dreams, — self-confident, lucky 
 people, who have managed to outstrip the 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 165 
 
 others. . . . And in the garden and in the 
 yard. . . . 
 
 David. 
 
 With fear. 
 
 What is there in the yard? . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 Not so loud, David. Look and listen. 
 
 He puts out the light in the room and draws aside the dra- 
 peries; the windows are lit up with a red light; it is 
 dark in the room, but David's head, and the paper on 
 the floor, are tinted a pale crimson hue. 
 
 David. 
 
 Frightened, in a whisper. 
 
 Where does this fire come from, Nullius? I 
 am afraid. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Also in a whisper. 
 
 'Tis a cold night, and they have started bonfires. 
 Sarah told them that they would have to wait a 
 long time yet, so they have taken precautions. 
 
 Davtd. 
 Where did they get the wood? 
 
1 66 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 They broke certain things. Sarah told them 
 that you ordered them to start bonfires, and 
 they are humbly burning whatever wood they 
 find. . . . And there, David, farther away . . . 
 
 David. 
 
 In despair. 
 
 What is it, Nullius? What else can there be, 
 there yonder? . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I do not know, David. But from the upper 
 window, which was wide open, I heard something 
 like the roaring of the ocean when the rocks 
 tremble with pain from the beating of the breakers ; 
 it was as though the roaring of brass trumpets 
 that I heard, David, — they are shouting to the sky 
 and to you, and they are calling you. ... Do 
 you hear? 
 
 In the muffled noise and chaos of sounds, ring out the sounds : 
 Da-vid! Da-vidf Da-vidf 
 
 David. 
 
 I hear my name. Who is calling? What do 
 they want? 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 167 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I don't know. Perhaps they want to crown you 
 as their king. 
 
 Me? 
 
 David. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You, David Leizer. Perhaps they are bringing 
 you might and power — and the power of per- 
 forming miracles — do you not want perhaps to 
 become a God, David? Look and listen. 
 
 He throws the windows wide open. The sounds of the 
 voices calling "Da-vid, Da-vid, Da-vid! " grow louder 
 and are mingled with the blowing of trumpets. 
 
 David at first moves to the wall, then he slowly advances to 
 the window. He straightens himself, looks out of the 
 window, and pushing Anathema aside, outstretches 
 his arms to the poor of the earth. 
 
 David. 
 
 Calling. 
 
 Come this way! Come here! To me ! I am 
 here! I am with you ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Astonished. 
 
 What? You are calling them? You — are — 
 calling — them ? Bethink yourself, Leizer ! 
 
168 ANATHEMA [act rv 
 
 David. 
 
 Angrily. 
 
 Be silent! you do not understand me! We are 
 all human beings and we shall go together. 
 
 Enthusiastically. 
 
 And we shall go together ! Come here, brethren, 
 come ! Look, Nullius, — they have lifted their 
 heads, they are looking, they hear me. This 
 way ! This way ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Will you perform miracles? 
 
 David. 
 
 Angrily. 
 
 Be silent — you are a stranger. You speak as an 
 enemy of God and mankind. You know neither 
 pity nor compassion. We are tired, we are ex- 
 hausted, — even the dead have grown tired of 
 waiting. Come here — and we shall go together. 
 This way ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Looking at David. 
 
 Are not the blind showing the way to them? 
 
act rv] ANATHEMA 169 
 
 David. 
 
 Who needs eyesight if not the blind ? This way, 
 blind! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Are not the lame making the road and swallow- 
 ing the dust there? 
 
 David. 
 
 Who needs the road if not the lame ? This way, 
 maimed ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Are they not carrying the dead on the stretchers, 
 swaying with measured steps? Look, David, 
 and dare to say : " Come this way, to me. I am 
 he who resurrects the dead ! " 
 
 David. 
 
 Tormented. 
 
 You know no love, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 I am he who restores sight to the blind " — 
 
 Loudly, through the window. 
 
 This way ! Nations of the earth, seeking God, — 
 come together, at the feet of David — he is here ! 
 
170 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 David. 
 
 Not so loud. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Eh, this way! Suffering mothers, — fathers who 
 have lost their reason in grief , — brothers and 
 sisters who devour one another in the convul- 
 sions of hunger — come this way, to David, who 
 has brought joy to mankind ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Seizing him by the shoulder. 
 
 You have lost your mind, Nullius. They may 
 hear you and may break into the house. . . . 
 What are you doing, Nullius ? Be more cautious. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Shouting. 
 
 David is calling you ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Dragging him away from the window forcibly. 
 
 Be silent ! I'll choke you if you utter another 
 word. You dog ! 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 171 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Releasing himself. 
 
 You are as foolish as a human being. When I call 
 you to flee from here, you curse me. When I 
 call you to love — you want to choke me. 
 
 With contempt. 
 
 Man! 
 
 David. 
 
 Enfeebled. 
 
 Oh, do not ruin me, Nullius. Oh, forgive me if 
 I have angered you, foolish old man that I am, 
 with a memory that fails me. But I cannot — 
 I cannot perform any miracles ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Let us flee from here. 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, yes, let us flee. 
 
 Irresolutely. 
 
 But where? Where do you want to lead me, 
 Nullius? Is there a place on earth where God 
 is not present ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 I shall lead you to God. 
 
172 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 David. 
 
 No, I don't want to go to Him. What will God 
 tell me ? And what shall I answer Him ? Be con- 
 siderate, Nullius. Can I say anything in answer 
 to God now ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I shall lead you to the desert. We shall leave here 
 these wicked and vicious people, who are seized 
 with the itch of suffering and who break down 
 posts and fences like hogs that scratch themselves. 
 
 David. 
 
 Irresolutely. 
 
 But they are human beings, Nullius. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Renounce them, and, pure, stand up in the desert 
 before the face of God. Let the rock be your 
 bed, let the howling jackal become your friend, 
 let only the sky and the sand hear the penitent 
 moans of David — not a single stain of another's 
 sin shall come upon the pure snow of his soul. 
 He who remains with lepers becomes a leper him- 
 self — only in solitude will you see God. To the 
 desert, David, to the desert ! 
 
act iv] ANATHEMA 173 
 
 David. 
 I shall pray. 
 
 Anathema. 
 You will pray. 
 
 David. 
 I shall exhaust my body with fasting. 
 
 Anathema. 
 You will exhaust your body with fasting. 
 
 David. 
 I shall cover my head with ashes. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 What for? Unfortunate people do that. But 
 you will be [happy, David, in your sinlessness. 
 To the desert, David, to the desert ! 
 
 David. 
 To the desert, Nullius, to the desert! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Quickly. 
 
 Let us run. There is a cellar here of which no 
 one knows. There are old barrels there, and 
 
174 ANATHEMA [act iv 
 
 there is the smell of wine. I shall hide you. And 
 when they fall asleep — 
 
 David. 
 
 To the desert ! To the desert ! 
 
 They rush out quickly. Disorder and silence in the room. 
 
 Through the open window soon comes in the noise of 
 
 voices and of brass trumpets, moans and sobs of the 
 
 mob, — " Da-a-a-vid ! " 
 And with its pages bent under it, like a house that is falling 
 
 apart, lies the Bible, with its back upward. 
 
 Slow Curtain. 
 
ACT FIVE. 
 
 On the right, upon the slope of a mountain, a dilapidated stone 
 fence. On the left, the sea is seen. Beyond the fence, 
 a deserted garden; among the trees two tall cypress 
 trees stand out prominently. The sea is dark. It 
 is before a storm. The sky is overcast with heavy 
 clouds, which are driven rapidly by the wind. 
 
 As the curtain goes up no one is on the stage; then Anathema 
 climbs over the fence and assists David over the fence. 
 David is very weak and moves with difficulty. Their 
 dark clothes are covered with mud and torn in places. 
 Both have lost their hats on the way. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Quicker, quicker, David ! They are pursuing us. 
 In this dark garden, where it is so quiet, I heard 
 a roaring in the distance, on that side, — as though 
 there were another sea there. Quicker, David ! 
 
 David. 
 
 I can't, Nullius. Put me down here that I may 
 die. 
 
 175 
 
176 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Anathema. 
 Put your foot here, on this rock. Take care. 
 
 David. 
 
 Before my eyes are paths which turn and turn 
 and lead to the wall. Then there are more walls, 
 Nullius, and this dark ditch where a bloated dead 
 horse is lying. Where are we, Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 We are at the sea. We shall take a boat from the 
 fishermen and trust ourselves to the waves — 
 You will sooner find mercy with the senseless 
 waves, David, than with the maddened people. 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes, it is better to die. 
 
 He lies down by the fence. 
 
 I am fifty-eight years old, Nullius, and I must 
 have a rest. ... But who was the man that met 
 us on the highway and was so greatly overjoyed, 
 and ran off shouting : " Here is David, who has 
 brought joy to mankind " ? How does he know 
 me? I had never seen him before. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 177 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 As if surveying the shore. 
 
 Your fame is great, David. . . . Strange, I do 
 not find any path leading downward. 
 
 David. 
 
 Shutting his eyes. 
 
 The cypress trees have turned dark — there will 
 be a storm to-night, Nullius. We should have 
 remained at the stone pit : it was dark and quiet 
 there, and I slept like a man with clear con- 
 science. 
 
 Grumbling. 
 
 But why are you silent, Nullius? Or am I to 
 speak all alone, as if I were already in the desert ? 
 
 Nullius. 
 
 I am searching. 
 
 David. 
 
 With dissatisfaction. 
 
 What else is there to search for? We have 
 searched enough to-day, and we jumped like 
 trained dogs. I felt ashamed, Nullius, when I 
 climbed the fences like a little boy stealing apples. 
 
178 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 You had better come over here and tell me some- 
 thing about your wanderings. I am too tired to 
 sleep. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You'll not be able to sleep, David. 
 
 Advancing. 
 
 There is no way down to the sea. 
 
 David. 
 What of it? Look for it elsewhere. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Outstretching his hand in the direction of the city. 
 
 Look, David; what is that white line there in the 
 distance ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Lifting his head. 
 I don't see it. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 It is the city which is awaiting you. Now listen. 
 What is that noise in the distance ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Listening. 
 
 That — of course, Nullius, that is the echo of the 
 waves of the sea. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 179 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 No. It is the voice of the people, who will come 
 here soon and will demand miracles from you, 
 and will offer you the kingdom of the poor on 
 earth. When we were hiding in the rocks, I heard 
 two men speak as they hastened to the city : they 
 said that you had been carried away by some 
 evil one and that it was necessary to rescue you 
 from that evil one and offer you the kingdom. 
 
 David. 
 
 Am I not a sick old Jew ? Am I a piece of gold 
 that I should be stolen ? Leave me alone, Nullius; 
 you are raving like the other people. ... I 
 am sleepy. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Impatiently, 
 
 But they are coming this way. 
 
 David. 
 
 Let them come. You will tell them that David 
 is sleeping and that he does not want to perform 
 miracles. 
 
 He prepares himself for sleep. 
 
180 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Anathema. 
 Bethink yourself, David. 
 
 David. 
 
 Stubbornly. 
 
 He does not want to perform any miracles. Good 
 night, Nullius. I am old and I do not like to 
 talk nonsense. 
 
 Anathema. 
 David ! 
 
 David does not answer; he falls asleep, his hands folded under 
 his head. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Awaken, David! the people have come here. 
 
 Pushes him angrily. 
 
 Get up, I say. You make believe that you are 
 asleep — I don't believe you. Do you hear ? 
 Through his teeth. 
 You've fallen asleep — damned flesh ! 
 
 Steps aside and listens. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Ha, ha! They are coming. . . . They are coming. . . . 
 And their king is sleeping ! They are coming — 
 and their miracle-worker is sleeping the sleep of 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 181 
 
 the horse which draws water. They are carry- 
 ing a crown and death — and their victim and 
 master is catching the wind with an open mouth, 
 smacking his lips for pleasure. O miserable race ! 
 There is treachery in your bones, betrayal in your 
 blood, and falsehood in your heart ! It is better 
 to rely upon flowing waters, to walk upon the 
 waves as upon a bridge ; it is better to lean upon 
 the air as upon a rock, than to trust one's haughty 
 anger and bitter dreams to a traitor. 
 
 Goes over to David and pushes him rudely. 
 
 Get up ! Get up, David, — Sarah is here, Sarah, 
 Sarah ! 
 
 David. 
 
 Awakening. 
 
 Are you here, Sarah? I'll be up soon; I am very 
 tired, Sarah. . . . What is this? You, Nullius? 
 Where is Sarah? Didn't she call me just now? 
 How tired I am! how tired I am, Nullius ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 Sarah is coming. Sarah is carrying an infant. 
 
 David. 
 
 What infant? We have no small children. Our 
 children — 
 
i82 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Half rises, looks around, frightened. 
 
 What is that, Nullius ? Who is crying there ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Sarah is carrying a dead child. You must resur- 
 rect the dead child, David. He is dark, and 
 his name is Moishe — Moishe — Moishe! 
 
 David. 
 
 Rising. 
 
 We must flee, Nullius. We must flee. But 
 where is the road? Where have you led me to? 
 
 Seizes Anathema by the arm. 
 
 Listen how they are shouting. They are coming 
 this way, to me — oh, save me, Nullius ! 
 
 Anathema. 
 There is no way. 
 
 Holding David. 
 
 There is an abyss. 
 
 David. 
 
 What shall I do, Nullius? Shall I, ir^yhap, 
 hurl myself down and dash my head agai/ist the 
 rocks? But am I a wicked wretch that I should 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 183 
 
 come to God without His calling me ? Oh, if God 
 only called me — faster than an arrow would my 
 old soul rush to Him. . . . 
 
 Listens. 
 
 They are shouting. They are calling . . . 
 calling — Step aside, Nullius; I want to pray. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Steps aside. 
 
 But make haste, David; they are near. 
 
 David. 
 
 Do you hear? They are coming. I love them, 
 but my love is bitterer than hatred, and it is as 
 powerless as indifference. Kill me, and meet 
 them yourself. Kill me — and meet them with 
 mercy, with love. Fertilize the hungry earth 
 with my body and grow bread upon it, drown 
 sorrow with my soul and grow laughter upon it. 
 And joy, O Lord, joy for mankind. . . . 
 
 The approach of an enormous mob is heard. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Advancing. 
 
 Quicker, David, quicker, — they are approaching. 
 
184 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 David. 
 
 One moment, one moment. 
 
 In despair. 
 
 Joy . . . What else ? Only one word — only one 
 word — but I have forgotten it. 
 
 Weeping. 
 
 Oh, what a great number of words there are, 
 but one is missing. . . . But, perhaps, you need 
 no words at all? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Only one word is missing? How strange! It 
 seems that they have found their word — do you 
 hear them wailing ? " Da-a-vid ! Da-a-vid ! " 
 Rise, David, and meet them proudly; it seems 
 they are beginning to mock you. 
 
 David rises. Some one rushes in ahead of the mob, shouting 
 joyously: "David I" and runs back. The sea looks 
 in one place as though stained with blood. 
 
 David. 
 
 Retreating a step. 
 
 I am afraid, Nullius. This is the same one we 
 met on the road, with a red little beard. . . . 
 I fear him, Nullius. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 185 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Meet them proudly. Strike them with the truth, 
 David, — with the truth ! 
 
 David. 
 
 But do not leave me alone, Nullius, or I shall for- 
 get again where the truth is. 
 
 People appear on the fence. They are exhausted, mud- 
 covered, like David. They seem to be blind yet 
 their faces are radiant with joy, and they keep ex- 
 claiming: "Da-vid! Da-vid!" 
 
 David. 
 
 Outstretching his arms. 
 
 Back — 
 
 They do not listen to him and keep climbing the fence, wailing. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Audaciously. 
 
 Where are you going ? Back — back, you were told. 
 
 The people in the front rank pause in fear. 
 
 Voices. 
 
 Stop ! Stop ! Who's that ? That's David. No, 
 that's the robber. The one who has carried him 
 off. The robber. 
 
186 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 A Restless Man. 
 
 Silence ! Silence ! David wishes to speak. Listen 
 to David. 
 
 They become silent; but in the distance people are still shout- 
 ing: "Da-vidI" 
 
 David. 
 
 What is it you want ? Yes, it is I, David Leizer, 
 a Jew from the same city that you come from. 
 Why do you pursue me like a thief and frighten me 
 like a robber with your shouting ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Audaciously. 
 
 What do you want? Go away from here. My 
 friend David Leizer does not want to see you. 
 
 David. 
 
 Yes. Let me die here, for death is already ap- 
 proaching my heart ; go home to your wives and 
 your children. I cannot ease your sufferings in 
 any way, — go. Do I speak properly, Nullius ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 Yes, David. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 187 
 
 The Restless Man. 
 
 Our wives are here and our children are here. 
 Here they stand, waiting for your word of kindness, 
 David, — you who have brought joy to mankind ! 
 I have no strength left in me and I have nothing 
 to say. Go. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Move forward a little, Rubin, and bow to our master 
 David. You probably remember him, David? 
 Bow to him once more, Rubin. 
 
 The boy bows timidly and hides in the crowd again. Laughter. 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 Smiling. 
 
 He is afraid of you, David. Don't be afraid, boy. 
 
 Muffled laughter. The Wanderer comes forward. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 You have called us, David, and we have come. 
 We have long waited silently for your merciful 
 call, and now your call has reached the remotest 
 boundaries of the earth. The roads have become 
 black with people; the deserted roads have come 
 to life and the narrow paths are filled with footsteps, 
 and they will soon become highways — and even 
 
188 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 as the blood that is in the body all rushes to the 
 heart, so all the poor on earth will come to you 
 alone. Welcome to you, our master David — the 
 people are bowing before you with their life and 
 the earth. 
 
 David. 
 
 Tormented. 
 
 What do you want ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Softly. 
 Righteousness. 
 
 David. 
 What do you want ? 
 
 All. 
 
 Righteousness. 
 
 Expectation. 
 
 David. 
 
 With sudden hope. 
 
 Tell me, Nullius, tell me : Is righteousness a 
 miracle ? 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Bitterly. 
 
 There are the blind — they are innocent. There 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 189 
 
 are the dead — and they are also innocent. The 
 earth is bowing before you with its graves, and 
 it greets you with darkness. Perform a miracle. 
 
 David. 
 A miracle ? Again a miracle ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Suspiciously and sternly. 
 
 And the people do not want you to speak with him 
 whose name we dare not utter. He is an enemy 
 of mankind, and at night, when you were asleep, 
 he carried you off to this mountain — but it did not 
 occur to him to carry off the heart of the people ; 
 and, beating unceasingly, this heart has brought us 
 to you. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Audaciously. 
 
 It seems that I am superfluous here. 
 
 David. 
 
 No, no. Do not forsake me, Nullius. 
 
 Tormented. 
 
 Begone, begone from here ! You are tempting God 
 — I do not know you. Begone. . . . Begone ! 
 
190 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Anathema. 
 Begone ! 
 
 Voices. 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 David is angry. What shall we do ? The master 
 is angry. David is angry. 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 Call Sarah. 
 
 Woman. 
 Call Sarah. Sarah ! 
 
 Voices. 
 Sarah ! Sarah ! Sarah ! . . . 
 
 Davtd. 
 
 Horror-stricken. 
 
 Do you hear ? They are calling. 
 
 Joyous Voice. 
 Sarah is coming. 
 The mob grows bolder. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Bowing several times. 
 
 It is I, David, — I. Peace be with you, our 
 master David. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 191 
 
 SONKA. 
 
 Smiling and bowing. 
 
 Peace be with you. Peace be with you, David. 
 
 David turns aside and covers his face with his hands. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Indifferently. 
 
 Begone! 
 
 General confusion; interrupted smiles, muffled groans. 
 Sarah, led respectfully by the arms, advances to 
 David. A T earing him, she walks alone. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Turn around, David. . . . Sarah is here. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Peace be with you, David. Forgive me for 
 disturbing you, but the people have asked me to 
 speak with you and to find out when you intend 
 to return home to your palace. And they have 
 also asked you to make haste, David, for many 
 have died already of unbearable sufferings — and 
 the dead have already grown tired of waiting. 
 And many have already lost their reason from their 
 unbearable sufferings, and they will soon commence 
 to murder; if you will not make haste, David, 
 all the people will become enemies — and it will be 
 
192 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 hard for you to establish a kingdom upon the dead 
 earth. 
 
 Bitter waitings in the distance : "Da-vidl Da-vidI Da-vidl" 
 
 David. 
 
 With restraint. 
 Go away, Sarah. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Humbly. 
 
 Your clothes are torn, David, and I fear that there 
 are wounds upon your body. What ails you? 
 Why do you not rejoice with us ? 
 
 David. 
 
 Weeping. 
 
 Oh, Sarah, Sarah! What are you doing with 
 me ? Consider, Sarah, — consider you all. Have 
 I not given everything away to you? l have 
 nothing left. Have pity on me even as I had pity 
 on you, — and kill my unnecessary body with 
 stones. I love you — and words of anger are 
 powerless upon my lips, and wrath upon loving 
 lips does not frighten you — have pity on me. 
 I have nothing more. I have a little blood in my 
 veins, but would I not give away the last drop of 
 it, if I could only quench your bitter thirst? 
 Like a sponge I would have squeezed my heart 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 193 
 
 between the palms of my hands — and the cunning 
 heart, so greedy for life, would not dare hide a 
 single drop. . . . 
 
 He tears his clothes and scratches his chest with his 
 nails. 
 
 Here my blood is flowing — my blood is flowing — 
 has a single one of you smiled a smile of joy? 
 Here I am tearing the hair of my beard and I fling 
 the grey locks — I fling them at your feet — has 
 a single dead person risen? Here I spit into 
 your eyes — will one blind man regain his sight ? 
 Here I bite the rocks — the rocks — like a mad 
 beast — will one hungry person be satiated? 
 Here I hurl myself at you — 
 
 He makes several quick steps, and the crowd retreats in 
 horror. 
 
 Anathema. 
 That's right, David ! Strike them ! 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Retreating. 
 
 Oh, do not punish us, David. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 To the crowd. 
 
 He obeys the one who carried him off. He says : 
 
194 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 I shall not give anything to the people. He spits 
 and says he spits into the eyes of the people. . . . 
 
 Cries of horror and growing malice. But in the distance 
 there are still prayerful wailings: u Da-vid! Da-vidl 
 Da-vid!" 
 
 Someone. 
 
 He dares not spit at the people. We have done him 
 no wrong. 
 
 Another Voice. 
 
 I saw it, I saw it. He lifted stones. Defend your- 
 selves. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Be on your guard; they will soon throw stones at 
 you. They are beasts. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 To David. 
 
 You have deceived us, you Jew. 
 
 Sarah. 
 Do not dare speak like this. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Seizes the Wanderer by the chest. 
 Another word and I shall choke you. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 195 
 
 David. 
 
 Shouting. 
 
 I have not deceived any one. I have given every- 
 thing away and have nothing left. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Do you hear, fools? David has nothing. 
 Laughs. 
 Nothing. Am I not telling the truth, David ? 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Do you hear ? He has nothing. Why, then, did 
 he call us ? He has deceived us. He has deceived 
 us. 
 
 Khessin. 
 
 Perplexed. 
 
 But that is true, Sarah; he himself says that he 
 has nothing. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Do not mind David. He is ill. He is tired. He 
 will give us everything. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 With sorrow and anger. 
 
 How could you do that, David ? What have you 
 done with the people, accursed one ? 
 
ig6 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Restless Man. 
 
 Listen what David, who has brought joy to man- 
 kind, has done to me. He promised me ten roubles, 
 and then took it back and gave me one copeck, and 
 I thought that the copeck was not really a copeck — 
 I went to a store with it and demanded a great 
 deal, but they laughed and chased me away as a 
 thief. You are the thief. You are the robber; 
 you have left my children without milk. Here is 
 your copeck. 
 
 Throws the copeck at David's feet. Many other people follow 
 his example. 
 
 Sarah. 
 
 Defending David. 
 
 Do not dare offend David. 
 
 David weeps silently, his face covered with his hands. 
 
 Angry Man. 
 
 Traitor ! He raised the dead out of their graves in 
 order to make sport of them. Strike him with 
 stones. 
 
 Bends down to lift a stone. A strong wind rises; in the 
 distance thunder-peals resound. The mob is horror- 
 stricken. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 197 
 
 David. 
 
 Raising his head and baring his chest. 
 
 Stone me — I am a traitor ! 
 
 Louder thunder-peals. Anathema laughs merrily. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Traitor ! Stone him ! He has deceived us ! 
 He has betrayed us ! He has lied to us ! 
 
 Confusion. They advance towards David, lifting stones; 
 some flee, sobbing. 
 
 David. 
 Take me. I am going to you. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Where ? They will kill you ! 
 
 David. 
 You are my enemy. Leave me. 
 
 Releases himself from his grasp. 
 
 Wanderer. 
 
 Raising a stone above his head. 
 Back ! Satan i 
 
iq8 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Hastily. 
 
 Curse them, David. They will soon put you to 
 death. Quick ! 
 
 David lifts his arms and sinks down, struck by a stone. Almost 
 in silence, grumbling, they hurl stones upon his mo- 
 tionless body. Thunder-peals. Anathema is laughing. 
 Suddenly a woman screams. Then another. All are 
 shouting. The mob runs away. The last one lifts 
 a stone to throw it on David's head, but looks around 
 and finding himself alone, lets the stone fall out of his 
 hand and runs away with a wild outcry. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Swaying himself in every direction, he leaps upon a rock, 
 jumps down, then up again. 
 
 Ah, you have triumphed, David ! 
 
 Laughter. 
 
 Look ! Look how the herd you have cursed is 
 fleeing. Ha, ha ! They are falling from the rocks. 
 Ha, ha ! They are hurling themselves into the sea. 
 Ha ! They are trampling children under their 
 feet. Look, David, — they are trampling upon 
 children. You have done it. Great and mighty 
 David Leizer! Favorite son of God! You have 
 done it. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 He whirls around, madly laughing. 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 199 
 
 Ah, where shall I go with my joy? Ah, where 
 shall I go with my tidings ? the earth is too small 
 for it ! East and West ! North and South ! 
 Look and listen. David, who has brought joy 
 to mankind, is put to death by mankind and 
 by God. And upon his ill-smelling corpse I — 
 Anathema — will put my foot. 
 To heaven. 
 Do you hear? Answer, if you can. 
 
 He tramples upon David's body. Then a groan is heard, 
 and David's grey, blood-stained head lifts itself, 
 quivering strangely. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Retreating. 
 
 You are still alive ? You have lied even this time. 
 David. 
 
 Crawls. 
 
 I am coming to you. Wait for me, Sarah. One 
 
 moment. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Bending over, examines David. 
 
 You are crawling? Like myself? Like a dog? 
 After them ? 
 
200 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 David. 
 
 In the agony of death. 
 
 Oh, I cannot reach them. Carry me, Nullius. 
 Do I say that it is not necessary to stone me? 
 Oh, let them stone me. Carry me, Nullius. 
 I shall lie down quietly on the threshold, I shall 
 only look through the crevice and see how the little 
 children are eating. . . . Oh, my beard. . . . Oh, 
 my terrible beard. . . . Oh, don't be afraid, my 
 little one, — you alone are laughing. My little 
 children, my tiny little children. . . . 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Stamping his foot. 
 
 You are mistaken, David. You are dead. And 
 your children are dead. The earth is dead — dead 
 — dead. Look. 
 
 David rises with difficulty and looks into the distance, his weak 
 hands outstretched. 
 
 David. 
 
 I see, Nullius. My old friend — my old friend, 
 stay here, I beg you — and I shall go to them. 
 Do you know, Nullius . . . 
 
 Confused. 
 
 I think that I found a copeck. . . . 
 
act v] ANATHEMA 201 
 
 Laughs quietly. 
 
 I told you, Nullius, to examine that paper. Abra- 
 ham Khessin, my friend — 
 
 Firmly. 
 
 Abraham Khessin is my friend. . . . 
 
 He sinks down and dies. 
 
 Thunder in the distance. It is dark; the sun, red, is seen 
 on the horizon, near the water. It sets. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Bending over him. 
 
 Is it true this time ? Are you dead ? Or do you 
 lie again ? No — it is an honest death now. Let 
 me have your fist. Open it. You don't want to ? 
 But I am stronger than you. 
 Rises and examines what David had in his hand. 
 A copeck! 
 
 Throws it down with contempt. Pushes David with his foot. 
 Farewell, fool. To-morrow people will find your 
 body here and will bury you with pomp, according 
 to the custom of the people. -Kind-hearted mur- 
 derers, they love those they kill. - And out of the 
 rocks with which they stoned you for your love, 
 they will erect a tall, crooked, and stupid tombstone. 
 And in order to enliven the stupid, dead pile of 
 stone, they will put me on the top. 
 
202 ANATHEMA [act v 
 
 He laughs. Then he suddenly breaks of his laughter and 
 assumes a haughty pose. 
 
 Who shall wrench the victory from the hands of 
 Anathema ? The strong I kill, the weak I force to 
 whirl about in an intoxicating dance — a mad 
 dance — a devilish dance. 
 
 He strikes the ground with his foot. 
 
 Be subdued, earth, and bring me your gifts 
 humbly ! Kill, burn, betray, O man, in the name 
 of your master ! I steer my boat over a sea of 
 blood which smells so sweetly, — and my sails are 
 burning red — 
 
 To heaven. 
 
 To you, for an answer ! Not as a dog crawling 
 on his belly, but as a distinguished guest, as the 
 reigning prince of the earth, I shall come sailing to 
 your mute shores. 
 
 Majestically. 
 
 Be prepared. I shall demand an exact answer. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Disappears in the darkness, bursting into laughter. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Nothing has happened; nothing has changed. As before, 
 the earth is weighted down by the heavy iron Gates, 
 closed from time immemorial, beyond which dwells 
 in silence and in mystery the Beginning of every being, 
 the Supreme Wisdom of the universe. And the Guard- 
 ian of the Entrances is just as silent and as sternly 
 motionless as before. Nothing has happened; nothing 
 has changed. 
 
 The grey light, as grey as the rocks, is terrible; the place is 
 terrible, but Anathema likes it. And he appears 
 again; but he does not crawl on his belly like a dog; 
 nor does he hide himself beyond the rocks like a thief. 
 Like a conqueror, he is trying to seal his victory by his 
 haughty gait, by the importance of his slow movements. 
 But as the Devil can never be truthful, and as there are 
 no bounds to his doubts, he brings his duality even into 
 this: He walks like a conqueror, yet he is afraid; 
 he throws his head back high like a sovereign, and yet 
 he laughs at his exaggerated self-importance ; a gloomy 
 and malicious clown, he longs for greatness; and 
 forced to laugh, he despises laughter. 
 
 Thus, assuming important airs beyond measure, he goes* up 
 
 to the middle of the mountain and waits there in a 
 
 haughty pose. But his uncertain importance is 
 
 devoured by the silence, even as dry wood is devoured 
 
 203 
 
204 ANATHEMA [epilogue 
 
 by fire — and he begins to hurry, without holding out 
 the pause, like a poor musician, striving to conceal 
 himself and his doubts and his odious fear in a vast 
 deal of jests, in loud shouting and in rapid gestures. 
 He stamps his foot and shouts in a voice of assumed stern- 
 ness. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Why are there no trumpets here? Why no 
 celebration? Why are these old and rusty gates 
 closed ? And why does no one hand me the keys ? 
 Is it proper in decent circles to meet thus an emi- 
 nent guest, the reigning prince of the earth, which 
 is friendly to us ? Only the doorkeeper is here, ap- 
 parently asleep, and no one else. It is bad — bad ! 
 
 He bursts into laughter, and stretching himself wearily, sits 
 down upon a rock. He speaks humbly and with an 
 air of fatigue. 
 
 But I am not vainglorious. Trumpets, flowers, 
 
 and shouting — all this is useless ! I myself 
 
 heard at one time how the people trumpeted glory 
 
 for David Leizer, but what has come of it ? 
 
 He heaves a sigh. 
 
 It is sad to think of it. 
 
 He whistles mournfully. 
 
 You have surely heard of the misfortune that has 
 
 come upon my friend David Leizer ? I remember 
 
epilogue] ANATHEMA 205 
 
 when I last chatted with you, — you did not 
 know this name then. . . . But do you know it 
 now ? It is a name to be proud of ! When I 
 left the earth, the entire earth in a million of 
 hungry throats called this glorious name, shouting : 
 "David is a deceiver ! David is a traitor ! David 
 is a liar!" Then it seemed to me that some of 
 the people reproached also another one — for my 
 honest friend, who died an untimely death, did 
 not act so incautiously in his own name. 
 
 The Guardian is silent. And Anathema shouts now with 
 an air of real triumph, breathing malice. 
 
 The name ! Call the name of him who has ruined 
 David and thousands of people ! I, Anathema, 
 have no heart, my eyes have dried up from the fire 
 of Hell, and there are no tears in them, but if the 
 tears were there I would have given them all to 
 David. I have no heart, but there was an instant 
 when something live trembled in my chest, and I 
 was frightened : I wondered whether a heart could 
 be born. I saw how David was perishing and 
 thousands of people with him, I saw how his 
 spirit, grown dark, curled up piteously like a dead 
 worm in the sun, was hurled down into the abyss 
 of non-existence, into my abode of darkness and 
 death. . . . Tell me, are you not the one who has 
 ruined David ? 
 
206 ANATHEMA [epilogue 
 
 Guardian of the Entrances. 
 
 David has attained immortality, and he lives 
 forever in the deathlessness of fire. David has 
 attained immortality, and he lives forever in the 
 deathlessness of light, which is life. 
 
 Dumfounded, Anathema falls to the ground and lies motion- 
 less for an instant. Then he lifts his head, which is as 
 angry as that of a serpent. He rises and speaks 
 with the calm of boundless wrath. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You lie ! Forgive me my daring, but you lie. 
 Surely your power is immense — and you can 
 give immortality to a dead worm that has turned 
 black from the sun. But would that be just? 
 Or do the numbers lie to which you, too, must 
 submit? Or do all the scales He, and is all your 
 world nothing but one lie, — a cruel and mad 
 game of laws, a malicious laugh of a despot at 
 the dumbness and submissiveness of the slave? 
 
 He speaks gloomily, in the grief of deathless blindness. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 I am tired of searching. I have grown tired of 
 life, of aimless tortures — of the quest after 
 the ever elusive. Give me death, but do not 
 
epilogue] ANATHEMA 207 
 
 torment me with ignorance; answer me honestly, 
 even as I am honest in my uprising as a slave. 
 Did not David love? Answer. Did not David 
 give his soul away? Answer. And did they 
 not stone David, who had given his soul away ? 
 Answer. 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 Yes. They stoned David, who had given his 
 soul away. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Smiling darkly. 
 
 Now you are honest and you answer me with 
 modesty. Without having stilled the hunger 
 of the hungry, without having restored sight 
 to the blind, without having brought to life those 
 who had died innocently, — having stirred up 
 dissension and dispute and cruel bloodshed, for 
 the people have already risen against one another 
 and are committing violence, murder, and plunder 
 in the name of David, — did not David mani- 
 fest the powerlessness of love, and did he not 
 create a great evil which could be numbered and 
 weighed ? 
 
 Guardian. 
 Yes. David has done that which you say; and 
 
208 ANATHEMA [epilogue 
 
 the people have done that of which you accuse 
 them. And the numbers do not lie, and the 
 scales are correct, and every measure is what 
 it is. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Triumphantly. 
 
 You say that ! 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 But that which you do not know, Anathema, 
 is not measured with a measure, and is not cal- 
 culated in numbers, and is not weighed on scales. 
 Light has no boundaries, nor is there any bound- 
 ary for the glow of fire — there is a red fire, and 
 there is a yellow fire, and there is a white fire, 
 in which the sun burns like a yellow straw, — and 
 there is still another unknown fire, whose name 
 no one knows — for there is no limit to the glow 
 of fire. Having died in numbers, having died 
 in measures and in weights, David has attained 
 immortality in the deathlessness of fire. 
 
 Anathema. 
 You lie again ! 
 He flings himself about on the ground in despair. 
 
 Anathema. 
 Oh, who will help the honest Anathema? He 
 
epilogue] ANATHEMA 209 
 
 is being deceived eternally. Oh, who will help 
 the unfortunate Anathema? His immortality is 
 deception. Oh, weep, you who have grown fond 
 of the Devil; wail and grieve, you who strive for 
 truth, who honor wisdom, — Anathema is being 
 deceived eternally. When I win, he takes it 
 away from me. When I come out victorious, 
 he fetters the conqueror in chains, he pricks out 
 the eyes of the ruler, and to the haughty he gives 
 the traits of a dog, a wagging and quivering tail. 
 David, David, I was a friend to you, — tell him 
 that he lies. 
 
 He puts his head down on his outstretched arms, like a dog, 
 and wails bitterly. 
 
 Where is the truth ? Where is the truth ? Where 
 is the truth ? Was it not crushed with stones ? Is 
 it not lying in the ditch together with the car- 
 rion? Oh, the light has died out from the world! 
 . . . Oh, the world has no eyes! . . . The crows 
 have pecked them out. . . . Where is the truth ? 
 Where is the truth ? Where is the truth ? 
 
 Plaintively. 
 
 Tell me, will Anathema ever learn the truth? 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 No. 
 
210 ANATHEMA [epilogue 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 Tell me, will Anathema ever see the gates open? 
 Shall I ever see your face? 
 
 Guardian. 
 
 No. Never. My face is open, but you see it 
 not. My speech is loud, but you hear it not. 
 My commands are clear, but you know them 
 not, Anathema. And you will never see, and 
 you will never hear, and you will never know, 
 Anathema, unfortunate spirit, deathless in num- 
 bers, ever alive in measure and in weight, but 
 as yet unborn to life. 
 Anathema leaps to his feet. 
 
 Anathema. 
 
 You lie, — silent dog, you who have robbed the 
 world of the truth, you who have barred the en- 
 trances with iron! Farewell; I like a fair game, 
 and I pay when I lose. And if you will not pay, 
 I shall cry before the whole universe : " Help ! I 
 have been robbed ! " 
 
 He bursts into laughter. Whistling, he retreats a Jew steps, 
 and turns around. He speaks unconcernedly. 
 
 Anathema. 
 I have nothing to do, so I roam about the world. 
 
epilogue] ANATHEMA 211 
 
 Do you know where I am going now? I shall 
 go to the grave of David Leizer. Like a griev- 
 ing widow, like the son of a father who had been 
 murdered from behind the corner by a traitor's 
 blow, — I shall sit down on David Leizer's grave 
 and shall weep so bitterly, and cry so loudly, and 
 call so terribly, that not one honest soul will re- 
 main that would not curse the murderer. Insane 
 from grief, I shall point to the right and to the 
 left. . . . Was not this the one who killed him ? 
 Did not that one assist in the bloody crime? 
 Did not that one betray ? I shall cry so bitterly, 
 I shall accuse so sternly, that all on earth will 
 become murderers and hangmen, in the name of 
 Leizer, in the name of David Leizer, in the name 
 of David, who brought joy to mankind ! And 
 when from the heap of corpses, of filthy, foul- 
 smelling, and disgusting corpses I shall announce 
 to the people that you are the one who killed 
 David and the people, — they will believe me. 
 Bursts into laughter. 
 
 For you have such a bad reputation — of a liar, 
 a deceiver, a murderer. Good-by. 
 
 He goes of laughing. His laughter resounds once more 
 from the depths. And then everything relapses into 
 
 silence. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
THE NOVELS OF IVAN S. TURGENEV 
 
 In Fifteen Volumes. Translated by Constance Garnett, 
 with an Introduction by Edward Garnett. $ 18.00 
 
 " In his introduction to the final volume of this edition, containing 
 1 The Jew,' and other stories, Mr. Garnett attempts to define TurgeniefPs 
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 Thackeray, Meredith, Tolstoi, Flaubert, and Maupassant, as the supreme 
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 cleverness never suspected. 
 
 " Turgenev's cleverness is so inconspicuous that one almost doubts 
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 not personal observation. . . . Turgenev's supreme gift is that of 
 vivifying character. We know his men and his women body and 
 mind and soul. Their weakness is our weakness and their strength 
 ours. In each portrait there is a bit of our own nature, and our 
 sympathy is peculiarly personal." — Chicago Post. 
 
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