He whirls around, madly laughing.
Ah, where shall I go with my joy? Ah, where shall I go with my tidings? the earth is too small for it! East and West! North and South! Look and listen. David, who has brought joy to mankind, is put to death by mankind and by God. And upon his ill-smelling corpse I—Anathema—will put my foot.
To heaven.
Do you hear? Answer, if you can.
He tramples upon David's body. Then a groan is heard, and David's grey, blood-stained head lifts itself, quivering strangely.
ANATHEMA.
Retreating.
You are still alive? You have lied even this time.
DAVID.
Crawls.