[ACT FOUR]
A large, high, somewhat dark room—David's study in the rich villa where he spends his last days. Two large windows in the room: one overlooking the road to the city; the other, on the left, overlooking the garden. Near this window, a large writing-table, covered with papers in disorder—sheets of paper of various sizes, and large books. Under the table, and near it, paper torn into small bits. A large Bible, bound in old leather, lies on the floor, open, with its back upward, resembling the roof of a house which is falling apart. Notwithstanding the heal, there is a fire in the fireplace. David Leizer feels cold and feverish.
It is growing dark. Through the lowered blinds, faint sunlight comes in, but it is already dark in the room. Only the small lamp on the table brings out into bold relief the white heads of David and Anathema.
David is sitting by the table. His hair and beard, unkempt for some time, lend him a savage and terrible appearance; his face is emaciated, his eyes are wide open; clasping his head with both hands, he stares fixedly through his large spectacles, examines a paper, throws it aside, takes up another paper, and nervously turns the leaves of a heavy volume.
Anathema stands near him, holding the back of his arm-chair. He is motionless, thoughtful, and stern.
The windows are closed, but through the dosed windows comes the muffled noise of many voices. It increases slowly, wavering in force and impassionateness. Those who had been called by David are now besieging his house. Silence.
DAVID.
It has crumbled away into dust; Nullius! The mountain that reached the sky has split into rocks, the rocks have turned into dust, and the wind has carried the dust away. Where is the mountain, Nullius? Where are the millions which you brought me? Here I have been looking for an hour through my papers for one copeck, only one copeck, that I may give it to him who asks for it, but I cannot find it. What is lying around there?
ANATHEMA.