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 Komar. Here, your highness!

Hvastja. Both!

Komar. If god doesn't have more pity than you do, we are all screwed.

Hvastja. I have aged, married, I have a triplet of children. Yet, I have not kneeled before another.

Komar

Principal. Has Jerman arrived yet?

Hvastja. I do not think them arriving is a possibility.

Principal. Be welcome, sir Hvastja! We are filtering the library; one would not come to believe how resistant literary weed is and how fast and far it spreads. God knows how!

Komar. Satan's and Jerman's work!

Principal. We struggled, we all struggled to see the light of day, dear Komar! It is in the nature of our people, to from the experience most griefful create. ..

Komar. Scourge 'em! Scourge such. ..

Principal. Long story short, it is only graceful and bright to forget those days of unfortunate past – think of them as little as necessary to ever remind you of the dangers and your evils. . . For there is no book worth more than the novel of your very own suffering. Go, dear Hvastja! Go and call for Jerman to join us. You, Hvastja, are a man of brainstem, of truest heart and of wise wordings.