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Ficsur
Then he tells you what time it is.
Liliom
Suppose he don't come?
Ficsur
[Coming down the steps.] Nonsense! He's got to come. He pays off the workmen every Saturday. And this is Saturday, ain't it? [Liliom has ascended to the top of the stairway and is gazing along the tracks.] What are you looking at up there?
Liliom
The tracks go on and on—there's no end to them.
Ficsur
What's that to stare about?
Liliom
Nothing—only I always look after the train.
When you stand down there at night it snorts past
you, and spits down.
Ficsur
Spits?
Liliom
Yes, the engine. It spits down. And then the
whole train rattles past and away—and you stand
