LADY. You feel all that... already?

STRANGER. Yes. I've got that far. I feel as if I lay hacked in pieces
and were being slowly melted in Medea's cauldron. Either I shall be sent
to the soap-boilers, or arise renewed from my own dripping! It depends
on Medea's skill!

LADY. That sounds like the word of an oracle. We must see if you can't
become a child again.

STRANGER. We should have to start with the cradle; and this time with
the right child.

LADY. Exactly! Wait here for me whilst I go into the church. If the cafe
were open I'd ask you please not to drink. But luckily it's shut.

(The LADY exits. The STRANGER sits down again and draws in the sand.
Enter six funeral attendants in brown with some mourners. One of them
carries a banner with the insignia of the Carpenters, draped in brown
crepe; another a large axe decorated with spruce, a third a cushion with
a chairman's mallet. They stop outside the cafe and wait.)

STRANGER. Excuse me, whose funeral have you been attending?

FIRST MOURNER. A house-breaker's. (He imitates the ticking of a clock.)

STRANGER. A real house-breaker? Or the insect sort, that lodges in the
woodwork and goes 'tick-tick'?

FIRST MOURNER. Both--but mainly the insect sort. What do they call them?

STRANGER (to himself). He wants to fool me into saying the death-watch
beetle. So I won't. You mean a burglar?

SECOND MOURNER. No. (The clock is again heard ticking.)

STRANGER. Are you trying to frighten me? Or does the dead man work
miracles? In that case I'd better explain that my nerves are good, and
that I don't believe in miracles. But I do find it strange that the
mourners wear brown. Why not black? It's cheap and suitable.

THIRD MOURNER. To us, in our simplicity, it looks black; but if Your
Honour wishes it, it shall look brown to you.

STRANGER. A queer company! They give me an uneasy feeling I'd like to
ascribe to the wine I drank yesterday. If I were to ask if that were
spruce, you'd probably say--well what?

FIRST MOURNER. Vine leaves.

STRANGER. I thought it would not be spruce! The cafe's opening, at last!
(The Cafe opens, the STRANGER sits at a table and is served with wine.
The MOURNERS sit at the other tables.) They must have been glad to be
rid of him, if the mourners start drinking as soon as the funeral's
over.

FIRST MOURNER. He was a good-for-nothing, who couldn't take life
seriously.

STRANGER. And who probably drank?

SECOND MOURNER. Yes.

THIRD M