—Indeed, how do they live? I don’t comprehend it.
—To work.
—To glorify God and be confirmed in the consciousness that life—
—Well, I don’t suppose they exalt Him.
—It were better if he were dead.
—A rather wearisome old fellow. And what style of trousers!
—Listen! Listen!
King Hunger (rising, speaks aloud):—Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will feign to meditate. Honorable judges, I beg you to simulate a meditative air.
(The judges for a brief period appear in deep thought—they knit their brows, gaze up at the ceiling, prop up their noses, sigh and obviously endeavor to think. Venerable silence. Then with faces profoundly solemn and earnest, silent as before, the judges rise, and simultaneously they turn around facing Death. And all together they bow low and lingering, stretching themselves forward.)