DAVID.
Terrified.
Nullius, my friend, you frighten me. What have I done to deserve your anger and these cruel, terrible words of yours? You have always treated me and my children so kindly.... Your hair is just as grey as mine, in your face I have long observed a hidden grief, and—I respect you, Nullius! Why are you silent? A terrible fire is burning in your eyes.—Who are you, Nullius? But you are silent.—No, no, do not lower your eyes, I am even more terrified when they are lowered, for then upon your brow appear fiery letters of some vague—of some terrible—fatal truth.
ANATHEMA.
Tenderly.
David!
DAVID.
Joyously.
You have started to speak, Nullius.
ANATHEMA.