You are joking!
Every one of you will have it that I am joking. You keep constantly telling me so. You seem to have utterly lost the sense for what is serious.
No, it’s not a dream. They are going.
Yes, they are going. (Both listen)
You still seem to believe. What do you believe?
I believe in my destiny. (The hour begins to strike in the belfry of the monastery) Twelve.
Seven—eight—and to think that this is the hour when it should have happened—the very idea of it—(A muffled report as of a powerful explosion is heard) What was that?
Yes, what was it?
[Both rush to the window, waking Tony, who moves his head sleepily. The tread of the footsteps in the street stops momentarily. Then all begin to run. Frightened cries are heard, weeping, loud, abrupt ejaculations of “What’s the matter?” “Oh, Lord!” “Fire, fire!” “No, something has fallen down!” “Let’s run!” The word “monastery” is frequently heard.
They are running! Where are they running to? Why is nobody here?
PELAGUEYA (entering the room, half dressed)
Oh, Lord! Oh, heavens! Is it possible the monastery is on fire! Good gracious! Heavens! And you here, you drunken sot! You monster!
Oho! They are running? Faces, mugs, eh?
[The bell begins to toll the alarm. Then the strokes follow each other in more rapid succession; hasty, disquieting, uneven, they blend with the noise of the street and seem to creep through the window.
Good God, I don’t know where to turn.
[She runs out. The cries in the street grow louder. Someone yells in one prolonged note “Oh-oh-oh!” until the sound is drowned in the general noise, excitement, and ringing.
LIPA (moving away from the window, very pale, stupefied) What does it mean? It cannot be. It is impossible. Tony, Tony, get up. Tony, brother, what does it mean? Tony!
It’s nothing. They are all faces.
SAVVA (leaving the window, calm and stern, but also pale) Well, sister?
LIPA (flinging herself about the room)
I want to run with the rest. I’ll run. Where is my scarf? Where is my scarf? My God, My God! Where is my scarf?