STRANGER. To think I've been so duped... so...
BEGGAR. Feasts of Belshazzar always end in one way a hand's stretched out—and writes a bill. And another hand's laid on the guest's shoulder and leads him to the police station! But it must be done royally!
POLICEMAN (laying his hand on the STRANGER). Have you talked enough?
THE WOMEN and RAGGED ONES. The alchemist can't pay. Hurrah! He's going to gaol. He's going to gaol!
SECOND WOMAN. Yes, but it's a shame.
STRANGER. You're sorry for me? I thank you for that, even if I don't quite deserve it! You felt pity for me!
SECOND WOMAN. Yes. That's also something I learnt from you.
(The scene is changed without lowering the curtain. The stage is darkened, and a medley of scenes, representing landscapes, palaces, rooms, is lowered and brought forward; so that characters and furniture are no longer seen, but the STRANGER alone remains visible and seems to be standing stiffly as though unconscious. At last even he disappears, and from the confusion a prison cell emerges.)
[On the right a door; and above it a barred opening, through which a ray of sunlight is shining, throwing a patch of light on the left-hand wall, where a large crucifix hangs.]
[The STRANGER, dressed in a brown cloak and wearing a hat, is sitting at the table looking at the patch of sunlight. The door is opened and the BEGGAR is let in.]