And then I can always withdraw again.
I'm in no way bound; it's a simple matter—;
The whole thing is private, so to speak;
I can go as I came; there's my horse ready saddled;
I am master, in short, of the situation.
Anitra.
[Approaching the tent-door.]
Prophet and Master!
Peer.
What would my slave?
Anitra.
The sons of the desert await at thy tent-door;
They pray for the light of thy countenance
Peer.
Stop!
Say in the distance I'd have them assemble;
Say from the distance I hear all their prayers.
Add that I suffer no menfolk in here!
Men, my child, are a worthless crew,—
Inveterate rascals you well may call them!
Anitra, you can't think how shamelessly
They have swindI mean they have sinned, my child!—[1]
Well, enough now of that; you may dance for me, damsels!
The Prophet would banish the memories that gall him.
The Girls.
[Dancing.]
The Prophet is good! The Prophet is grieving
For the ill that the sons of the dust have wrought!
- ↑ In the original, "De bar snydthm; jeg mener syndet,
mit barn!"
