Your pouches shall burst with the gold of their Secret.—
Follow me!—Yonder heads are our mascots to fortune!
[Striking their instruments and running through the gate, they all disappear within. As their tinklings die away, the two beggars reënter, from the left]
THE YOUNGER BEGGAR
[Prostrating himself again before the white bearded head, rises with up-lifted arms]
Father!—O slaughtered King of Astrakhan,
Timur, my father!—
THE OLDER BEGGAR
[Furtively]
Calaf! Have more care;