CHABRIS. Then give me your bottle.
OZIAS. What bottle?
CHABRIS. I saw you put it from your lips as I came.
OZIAS. It behoves you to understand, old man, that my solemn duty as
governor is to maintain my own strength, for if I fell the city would
fall. Without me to inspire them the populace would yield in a moment.
What is the populace? Poltroons, animals, sheep, rabbits, insects, lice!
CHABRIS. Give me the bottle.
OZIAS. It is as empty as the cisterns.
CHABRIS. Give it to me, or I will cry through the streets that you are
concealing water. (Ozias _gives him the bottle_. Chabris _drinks_. Ozias
_snatches the bottle away and conceals it_.) Ah!
(_A figure is glimpsed in the tent on the roof of_ Judith's _house_.
Ozias _starts_.)
CHABRIS. What is that up yonder?
OZIAS. Nothing.
CHABRIS. Whose house is this?
OZIAS. It is the house of Judith, the daughter of Merari.
CHABRIS. Ah! Merari, the son of Ox, the son of Oziel--Oziel and I were
little playful boys together--the son of Elcia, the son of Raphaim, the
son of Eliab, the son of Nathanael, the son of----
OZIAS. Old man, your memory is terrible.
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