Part 4 (1/2)

STRANGER (to himself). He wants to fool me into saying the death-watch beetle. So I won't. You mean a burglar?

SECOND MOURNER. No. (The clock is again heard ticking.)

STRANGER. Are you trying to frighten me? Or does the dead man work miracles? In that case I'd better explain that my nerves are good, and that I don't believe in miracles. But I do find it strange that the mourners wear brown. Why not black? It's cheap and suitable.

THIRD MOURNER. To us, in our simplicity, it looks black; but if Your Honour wishes it, it shall look brown to you.

STRANGER. A queer company! They give me an uneasy feeling I'd like to ascribe to the wine I drank yesterday. If I were to ask if that were spruce, you'd probably say--well what?

FIRST MOURNER. Vine leaves.

STRANGER. I thought it would not be spruce! The cafe's opening, at last!

(The Cafe opens, the STRANGER sits at a table and is served with wine.

The MOURNERS sit at the other tables.) They must have been glad to be rid of him, if the mourners start drinking as soon as the funeral's over.

FIRST MOURNER. He was a good-for-nothing, who couldn't take life seriously.

STRANGER. And who probably drank?

SECOND MOURNER. Yes.

THIRD MOURNER. And let others support his wife and children.

STRANGER. He shouldn't have done so. Is that why his friends speak so well of him now? Please don't shake my table when I'm drinking.

SECOND MOURNER. When I'm drinking, I don't mind.

STRANGER. Well, I do. There's a great difference between us! (The MOURNERS whisper together. The BEGGAR comes back.) Here's the beggar again!

BEGGAR (sitting down at a table). Wine. Moselle!

LANDLORD (consulting a police last). I can't serve you: you've not paid your taxes. Here's your name, age and profession, and the decision of the court.

BEGGAR. Omnia serviliter pro dominatione! I'm a free man with a university education. I refused to pay taxes because I didn't want to become a member of parliament. Moselle!

LANDLORD. You'll get free transport to the poor house, if you don't get out.

STRANGER. Couldn't you gentlemen settle this somewhere else. You're disturbing your patrons.

LANDLORD. You can witness I'm in the right.

STRANGER. No. The whole thing's too distressing. Even without paying taxes he has the right to enjoy life's small pleasures.

LANDLORD. So you're the kind who'd absolve vagabonds from their duties?

STRANGER. This is too much! I'd have you know that I'm a famous man.

(The LANDLORD and MOURNERS laugh.)

LANDLORD. Infamous, probably! Let me look at the police list, and see if the description tallies: thirty-eight, brown hair, moustache, blue eyes; no settled employment, means unknown; married, but has deserted his wife and children; well known for revolutionary views on social questions: gives impression he is not in full possession of his faculties.... It fits!