Do not open the door, Nullius.
ANATHEMA.
It is your wife, Sarah.
He opens the door. Sarah enters, leading by the hand a pale-faced woman who is carrying something in her arms.
SARAH.
Meekly.
Forgive me, David. But this woman says that she cannot wait any more. She says that if you delay any longer, she will not recognize her child when he is revived. If it is necessary for you to know his name, it is Moishe, little Moishe. He is a dark little one,—I looked at him.
WOMAN.
Falling down on her knees.
Forgive me, David, for breaking the line and not waiting for my turn. But there are those who died but a little while ago, while I am carrying him already three days and three nights on my breast. Perhaps it is necessary for you to take a look at him? Then I will uncover him—I am not deceiving you, David.