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 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?