"In God's name must we hang ourselves?" cried Lukash.
Pan Serafin measured the chamber a number of times with his steps yet, and spoke on, as if it were to himself, and not to the Bukoyemskis,--
"Through the length and the breadth of this Commonwealth there is one immense feast, and on the wall an unknown hand is now writing: 'Mane--Tekel--Fares.' Wine is flowing, but blood and tears also are flowing. I am not the only person who sees this, I am not the only man predicting evil, but it is vain to put a light before the sightless, or sing songs to those who have no hearing."
Silence followed. The four brothers stared now at one another, and now at Pan Serafin with increasing confusion; at last Lukash said in a low voice to the other three,--
"May I split, if I understand anything!"
"And may I split!"
"And may I!"
"If we could drink a couple of times--"
"Quiet, do not mention it--"
"Let us go home."