Awaken, Sarah, sleep has enmeshed you in nets of cunning and your heart is poisoned with the madness of love. It is I, David!...
With fear.
And I did not command to bring bread.
SARAH.
If you are not quite ready, David, they can wait. But order lamps lighted and give bedding for the women and the children,—for night will soon set in and the earth will grow cold. And order them to give milk to the children—they are starved. There, in the distance, we have heard the sound of innumerable footsteps: are those not herds of cows and goats, full of milk, driven here at your command?
DAVID.
Hoarsely.
Oh, my God, my God!...
ANATHEMA.
In a low voice, to Sarah.