Komar. They did not come to us to avow; nor for us to do so. They did not come to eavesdrop or overhear the conversation we have going. Our phrases, barely spoken, are written down line to line – only god knows to whom we will confess them one day.
Hvastja. (drinks up and turns around). You will confess them to me, and you will ask me for a pardon, only when you plead for it, kneeling. (Retreats to the exit and leaves the place.)
Lojzka. There was no need to insult!
Komar. This dark spying soul! . . . What? Honest people meet up at a fair time . . . At a celebratory time . . . Hearts filled with both hope and fear . . . with the word of liberty in their mouth. Out of no-where, this shadow-cleric in their long black suit appears. My dear, I myself am inflamed and I feel no shame. Let those insects drown in their cajolery and fawning paragraphs.
Minka. Certainly . . . The very presence of their black suit and their bible in this sacred moment . . .
Geni. I adore them, for they are ludicrous.
Lojzka. Shall we say a word or two about freedom of religion, of belief?
Komar. What belief? Belief is one sad story . . . Let his wife command him to break one of his beliefs for breakfast, one for lunch and one for supper, and he shall!
Lojzka. Who said so?
Komar. It is written all over his face.
Geni. As jolly as they are, they are no caitiff.
Komar. Who says they are not a caitiff? Not a caitiff? If they are not a caitiff, then I am one!
10
