relations, who've committed unexpiated sins. Those angels, who've taken
the depravity of others on themselves, really resemble bandits. What do
you say to that?

STRANGER. I don't know who you are; but you're the first to answer
questions that might reconcile me to life. You are....

TEMPTER. Well, say it!

STRANGER. The deliverer!

TEMPTER. And therefore....?

STRANGER. Therefore you've been given a vulture.... But listen, have you
ever thought that there's as good a reason for this as for everything
else? Granted the earth's a prison, on which dangerous prisoners are
confined--is it a good thing to set them free? Is it right?

TEMPTER. What a question! I've never really thought about it. Hm!

STRANGER. And have you ever thought of this: we may be born in guilt?

TEMPTER. That's nothing to do with me: I concern myself with the
present.

STRANGER. Good! Don't you think we're sometimes punished wrongly, so
that we fail to see the logical connection, though it exists?

TEMPTER. Logic's not missing; but all life's a tissue of offences,
mistakes, errors, that are comparatively blameless owing to human
weakness, but that are punished by the most consistent revenge.
Everything's revenged, even our injudicious actions. Who forgives? A
magnanimous man-sometimes; heavenly justice, never! (A PILGRIM appears
in the background.) See! A penitent! I'd like to know what wrong he's
done. We'll ask him. Welcome to our quiet meadows, peaceful wanderer!
Take your place at the simple table of the ascetic, at which there are
no more temptations.

PILGRIM. Thank you, fellow traveller in the vale of woe.

TEMPTER. What kind of woe is yours?

PILGRIM. None in particular; on the contrary, the hour of liberation's
struck, and I'm going up there to receive absolution.

STRANGER. Listen, haven't we two met before?

PILGRIM. I think so, certainly.

STRANGER. Caesar! You're Caesar!

PILGRIM. I used to be; but I am no longer.

TEMPTER. Ha ha! Imperial acquaintance. Really! But tell us, tell us!

PILGRIM. You shall hear. Now I've a right to speak, for my penance is at
an end. When we met at a certain doctor's house, I was shut up there
as a madman and supposed to be suffering from the illusion that I was
Caesar. Now the Stranger shall hear the truth of the matter: I never
believed it, but I was forced by scruples of conscience to put a good
face on it.... A friend of mine, a bad friend, had written proof that I
was the victim o