[The procession disappears through the door on the left. A pause of silence. The music plays less loudly, and the dancers begin gradually to fill the hall.
—Where did they go?
—I believe they went to the dining-room, where supper is being served.
—I suppose they'll soon invite us in. Do you see anybody looking for us?
—Yes, it's time for supper. If you eat too late, you can't sleep well.
—I always serve supper early.
—A late supper lies heavy on your stomach.
—And the music is still playing.
—And they're still dancing.
—I wonder they don't get tired.
—How rich!
—How magnificent!
—Do you know for how many guests they have prepared the supper?
—I didn't get a chance to count all the covers. The caterer came in, and I had to get out.
—Could they possibly have forgotten us?
—Man is so proud, and we are so unimportant.
—Don't say that. My husband says we do him an honor by accepting his invitation. We are rich, too.
—When you consider the reputation of his wife—
—Do you see anyone looking for us? Maybe he's looking for us in the other rooms.
—How rich!
—If you are not careful with other people's money, it's easy to get rich, I think.
—Oh, now, it's only his enemies who say that.
—Well, after all, there are some very respectable people among them.
I must admit that my husband—
—It is late, though.
—It's clear there must be a mistake somewhere. I can't believe we've simply been forgotten.
—Evidently you know people and life very little if you think so.
—I am surprised. We are rich enough ourselves.
—It seems to me someone called us.
—You're mistaken, no one called us. I don't understand it. To be quite frank—why did we come to a house like this, with such a reputation? One should be very careful of the friends one chooses.
A LIVERIED LACKEY (appears at the door)
Man and his Wife beg the honored guests to step into the dining-room.
GUESTS (rising quickly)
—What a livery!
—He asked us to come in!
—I said there must be a mistake somewhere.
—Man is so good. I'm sure he hasn't had a chance to sit down at table himself.
—Didn't I say someone was looking for us?
—What a livery!
—They say the supper is grand.
—Everything at Man's is done in a grand style.
—What music! What an honor to be at Man's ball!
—Let those envy us who—
—How grand!
—How magnificent!
—What an honor!
[They go out one after the other, repeating the last phrases. One couple after the other stop dancing and follow the Guests in silence. For some time a single couple remain circling on the floor, but they too join the others at last. The musicians, however, continue to play, making the same desperate effort. The lackey turns out the electric lights, leaving only one light in the farthest chandelier. The figures of the musicians are vaguely seen in the dim light, swaying to and fro with their instruments. The outline of Someone in Gray is sharply visible. The flame of the candle flickers, illuminating His stony face and chin with a garish, yellow light. He turns around without raising his head, walks slowly and calmly through the whole length of the room, and disappears through the door through which Man passed out.
THE FOURTH SCENE
MAN'S MISFORTUNE
A large, gloomy, quadrangular room, with dark watts, dark floor, and dark ceiling. There are two high, curtainless windows with eight panes in the rear watt, and between them a small, low door. Two similar windows appear in the right wall. Night glooms through the windows, and when the door opens, the same deep blackness of night stares into the room. In general, however bright Man's rooms may be, the vast darkness of the windows engulfs the light.
On the left wall there is nothing but a small, low door leading to the rest of the house. At the window on the right stands a broad sofa covered with dark oilcloth. Man's desk is very simple and poor. On it are seen a dimly burning, shaded lamp, a sheet of yellow paper with a sketch drawn on it, and a lot of toys—little peaked cap, a wooden horse without a tail, and a red, long-nosed clown with bells. Between the windows there is an old dilapidated bookcase entirely empty. The visible lines of dust left by the books show that they must have been removed recently. The room has only one chair.
In the darkest corner stands Someone in Gray called He. The candle in his hand is now no longer than it is thick. The wax is running over a little. The stump burns with a reddish, flickering light, and casts a red sheen on His stony face and chin.
The only remaining servant of Man, an Old Woman, is sitting on the chair. She speaks in an even voice, addressing an imaginary companion._
OLD WOMAN
There! Man has slipped back into poverty. He had a lot of valuable things, horses and carriages, and even an automobile. Now he has nothing. Of all his servants I am the only one left. There are still some good things in here and in two other rooms. There's the sofa and the bookcase. But in the other twelve rooms there's not a thing. They are dark and empty. Rats run around in them day and night and fight and squeak. People are afraid, but I'm not. It's all the same to me.
An iron sign has been hanging on the gate for ever so long, saying the house is for sale. But no one wants to buy it. The sign's rusty already, and the rain
