There is no one who has suffered so much as I!
SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. What is that to speak of! I am the holy Saint
Bartholomew with the skin, who, at Emperor Pamphilii's command was
flayed alive clear down to the knees; and what miracles happened
after my death! You perhaps have never heard of the mysteries or of
the devil in woman shape and the prognostication about the volcano?
SAINT LAURENCE. What is that to speak of as compared with mine? I
have six miracles: The beam in the church, the crystal chalice, the
Nun's corpse--
PALL. [Rises up.] Oh, boast moderately of your sufferings. I am
only a pall, but for fifty years I have borne on my back so many
corpses, and have seen so much suffering--so many shattered hopes,
so much inconsolable grief, so many torn hearts that suffered in
silence and were thrust into oblivion without the solace of gilded
statues--that you would be silent had you seen one-half of it. Ah,
life is so black, so black, so black!
BROOM. [Raps on floor and rustles its straws.] What--you chatter
about life, old Pall, you who have seen only death? Life is black
on one side and white on the other. To-day I'm only a broom, but
yesterday I stood in the forest, so stout and trim, and wanted to
be something great. They all want to be great, you see, so it
happened as it happened! Now I think like this: What comes is best;
since you couldn't be great, you may as well be something else;
there is so much to choose from--One may of course be useful, and
at worst one can content oneself with being good, and when one has
not been given two legs to stand on, one must be happy anyhow and
hop on one.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77