[By this time the drunkards have all departed, and their places been taken by the Old Women. The light has been growing steadily fainter, until only the form of the Being in Grey and the white, drooping head of the Man stand out clearly under shafts of light fatting upon them from above.]
Dialogue of the Old Women alone.
Good evening to you!
And to you! What a glorious night it is!
We are all here, are we not? How are you?
I have caught a little cold, I think.
[The Old Women chuckle.]
This time we shall not have very long to wait. Death and the Man have nearly met.
See the candle! See its thin, blue, ragged flame! It has almost no wax now—only wick.
Yes; but it seems reluctant to go out?