King Hunger (with bent head):—What is your pleasure?
Death (swiftly rising, wrathfully strikes the table with his clenched fist and speaks in a grating voice):—Condemned—in the name of Satan!
(Then as quickly he sits down and sinks into a malicious inflexibility. The judges resume their places.)
King Hunger:—Starveling, you’re condemned.
Old Man:—Have mercy!
King Hunger:—Put the muzzle over him. Bring the next starveling....
(The next starveling is led into the room. She is a graceful, but extremely emaciated young woman, with a face pallid and tragic to view. The black, fine eyebrows join over her nose; her luxuriant hair is negligently tied in a knot, falling down her shoulders. She makes no bows nor looks around, is as if seeing nobody. Her voice is apathetic and dull.)
King Hunger:—What’s your offense, Starveling?
Young Woman:—I killed my child.
(Spectators.)