SARAH.
You will live yet, Naum. You will live yet.
NAUM.
Almost crying.
Why don't they allow me to dance? I want to dance. I have looked for credit long enough, I want to amuse myself. Am I an old man to be in bed and cough there? Cough! Cough!
He coughs and cries simultaneously. Anathema whispers something to the dancing-master, who expresses compassion, nods his head, and prepares to go.
DANCING-MASTER.
Until to-morrow, monsieur Naum. I am afraid that our lesson was a little too long.
NAUM.
To-morrow—don't fail to come to-morrow. Do you hear? I want to dance.