CURT. Good night.
Curtain.
The same setting, but note the lamp is at the point of going out. Through the windows and the glass panes of the doors a gray morning is visible. The sea is stirring. The sentry is on the battery as before.
The CAPTAIN is lying on the couch, asleep. CURT sits on a chair beside him, looking pale and wearied from his watch.
ALICE. [In from the left] Is he asleep?
CURT. Yes, since the time when the sun should have risen.
ALICE. What kind of night did he have?
CURT. He slept now and then, but he talked a good deal.
ALICE. Of what?
CURT. He argued about religion like a schoolboy, but with a pretension of having solved all the world riddles. Finally, toward morning, he invented the immortality of the soul.