Drunkard. What have the dogs got to do with it?
Prostitute. They are people laden with sins. People who died without the Holy Sacrament, and who were buried outside of the fence. At night they roam about the market in the shape of dogs. They run about in the stalls of the butchers. The devil, too, stays there, but when the first of May comes and the prayers begin, the Holy Mother walks through the market-place. The souls of the damned cling to her dress, and she takes them with her to Heaven.
[Pause for a minute.]
Beggar [turning in his sleep]. Strong vinegar bursts the cask. Her soul must be black indeed.
Drunkard. It's awful to look into it. You'll be among them yet....
Prostitute. I'm not afraid of that. The mercy of God is great. It will reach even me. But all of you will be among the dogs too. Those who live in the street come back to the street after death.
Beggar. The street is the home of the beggar. Poverty is no sin.
[Stretches himself and sleeps on. There is a pause. The Fool comes out of the darkness. He is tall, with a vacant, good-humored face, dressed in a soldier's hat, with a wooden toy-sword in his girdle. He grins kindly.]
Drunkard. Ah, good evening, Napoleon. [He salutes the Fool.] Where do you hail from?
Fool [grins and chuckles]. From Turkey. I have driven out the Turk.