THE DARK CHAMBER
69
When death, the old hag, steals to our doors
We snap our fingers at her face,
And we sing in a chorus with gay flourishes
Fol de rol de rol.
Kanchi
Look over there, Koshala, who are those coming this way? A pantomime? Somebody is out masquerading as a King.
Koshala
The King of this place may tolerate all this tomfoolery, but we won’t.
Avanti
He is perhaps some rural chief.
Enter Guards on foot
Kanchi
What country does your King come from?
