[The Devil pulls up the chair close; their knees touch. He leans forward, staring into Agnus’s eyes. The luminosity grows brighter about Agnus’s head, rises little by little, flickers and flutters. Meanwhile a dull crimson light has glowed over The Devil’s head, and now it grows steadily and moves across the space until it rests on Agnus’s head, where it settles and sinks downward, disappearing.
THE DEVIL (rising, in Agnus’s body)
Take the Dutchman’s body, doctor—I’ve got yours—(A second luminosity glows at window) Quick! Here comes the Dutchman back. Take his body, or you’ll be homeless. It’s not much but it’s the only one I’ve got to give you. Quick! I need you!
[Each of the two luminosities dart toward the senseless body. One settles and disappears. The other flies viciously around and around the head. The Devil lets up the shades, shaking with laughter.
THE DEVIL
I hardly dare ask so impertinent a question—but which soul won?
AGNUS (in the Dutchman’s body)
You scoundrel! You fiend! You blackguard!
THE DEVIL
That might be either! The language of men is strikingly similar under great loss. Who are you? The rightful owner or an usurper?