I am going, Nullius. And I will tell them the truth—I have never lied. Open the doors, Nullius.
Anathema quickly throws the door open and respectfully allows David to pass to the balcony. David walks slowly, with an air of importance. Then Anathema closes the door behind David. The noise suddenly subsides, a deathlike silence sets in, and David's quivering voice is heard faintly. Anathema dances about the room in a fit of ecstasy.
ANATHEMA.
Ah! you would not listen to me,—now listen to them. Ah! you forced me to crawl on my belly like a dog. You would not permit me to glimpse even through a crevice!... You laughed at me in your silence!... You tortured me by your motionlessness. Listen, then, and answer, if you can. It is not the Devil who speaks to you, it is not the son of Dawn who raises his voice,—it is man, it is your favorite son, your care, your love, your tenderness, and your proud hope, that is wriggling under your foot like a worm. Well? You are silent? Lie to him by your thunder, deceive him with your lightning,—how dares he look into the heavens? Let him, like Anathema?
Wailing.
The poor, offended Anathema, who is crawling on his belly like a dog....
Furiously.
Let man crawl back again to his dark hole, let him decay in silence, bury himself in gloom, where unspeakable horror dwells.
A myriad-voiced sound is heard from outside the windows.
ANATHEMA.