Drunken Man. Can’t you get a drink?
Unknown Man. No, how can I?
Second Drunken Man. Say, what are you talking about? How can he get a drink? The man is about to die and you tempt him and try to get him excited. Listen, up there, we have been drinking your health right along. It won’t hurt you, will it?
First Drunken Man. Ah, go on! What are you talking about? How can it hurt him? Why, it will only do him good. It will encourage him. Listen, honest to God, we are very sorry for you, but don’t mind us. We are going to the café to have another drink. Good-bye.
Second Drunken Man. Look, what a crowd.
First Drunken Man. Come, or he’ll fall and then they’ll close the café.
(Enter a new crowd of tourists, a very elegant gentleman, the chief correspondent of European newspapers at their head. He is followed by an ecstatic whisper of respect and admiration. Many leave the café to look at him, and even the waiter turns slightly around, glances at him quickly, smiles happily and continues on his way, spilling something from his tray.)
Voices. The correspondent! The correspondent! Look!
Lady. Oh, my, and my husband is gone again!
Tourist. Jimmie, Mary, Aleck, Katie, Charlie, look! This is the chief correspondent. Do you realize it? The very highest of all. Whatever he writes goes.